Page 4 of Fixing to be Mine (Valentine Texas #5)

CHAPTER THREE

SUNNY

M y anxiety crept in somewhere near the gas station with the taxidermy bobcat and a road called Snakebite Ridge.

When I walk up the front steps of the bed-and-breakfast, I’m barely holding it together.

The place is picture-perfect—fresh paint, blooming flowers, and a front porch that looks like it’s hosted its fair share of good conversations and glasses of sweet tea. It feels gentle, even if I don’t.

I knock because it feels more respectful.

A moment later, the door opens, and the woman from yesterday stands there.

Colt’s sister. Her dark brown hair is pulled up, and she’s wearing a soft T-shirt with some kind of faded logo over her heart.

Her expression shifts the moment she sees me. Not surprised, but more curious.

“If we keep runnin’ into one another, you’re not gonna be a stranger anymore,” she tells me, stepping aside and allowing me in.

This is the second day I’ve knocked on a random door, and she’s opened it.

“Oh, hi,” I say. “Do you work here?”

She nods. “Yep. I don’t know if we’ve officially met. I’m Remi Johnson. Was Valentine until recently.”

“Very nice to meet you,” I say, looking around this gorgeous place.

She continues the conversation. “My older brother, Beckett, and his wife, Summer, own Horseshoe Creek Ranch. I help run the bed-and-breakfast. What can I help ya with?”

“So, the motel in downtown Valentine that I was staying at the past few days doesn’t have any availability for the next two weeks.

The woman gave me this address to see if, by some miracle, you had any rooms open.

I made a few phone calls and every motel, hotel, and Airbnb within a hundred miles is fully booked. ”

Remi looks out at the pasture; the sun has already dipped below the horizon, and it will be dark soon.

“We don’t have anything tonight, but let me check the rest of the week to see if anyone has canceled. Follow me.” Remi leads me to the counter, where a computer is set up. “The rodeo’s coming to town. It starts this weekend and runs for two weeks. People started booking rooms last year.”

My timing is shit—that’s what I’ve realized.

“I didn’t know. I left the city on a whim, stupidly believing Valentine was a place to get lost.”

“Oh, it usually is,” she confirms, studying me. Her blue eyes are sharper than her tone. Remi isn’t judging me, but she’s assessing me like she’s already seen a dozen women trying to outrun their lives. I think she’s deciding whether I’m worth the risk or not.

The room smells like warm vanilla and fresh laundry.

There’s a little basket on the desk of sweet peppermints that melt in your mouth, and a wooden key rack mounted on the wall.

It feels lived in, but taken care of, like someone who remembers birthdays and still writes thank-you notes runs the place.

“Gah. I’m booked too,” she says, tapping her fingers against the counter.

“Thank you for checking.” I nod, even though disappointment is already squeezing my chest.

I’m not sure what I thought would happen, but I had hope. Maybe this is a sign I need to get my ass back to the city. If I don’t find anything by tomorrow night, I’m leaving town.

She pulls out a notepad and scribbles something on the paper before ripping it off and handing it to me. At the top is the logo for the bed-and-breakfast, a cute horseshoe with a sans serif font.

“Try this address,” she says.

I glance down at it.

“Where does this lead me?”

She grins. “To Colt’s. He lives ten miles that way in a house he’s rebuilding.

He wouldn’t offer you to stay with him because it still needs a lot of work.

But if you show up and tell him you have nowhere else to go, he’ll figure it out.

He’s a helper with a big heart. Being around him might be good for you. ”

I stare at the paper for a second too long.

“Why are you helping me?” I ask.

Remi shrugs like it’s obvious. “That’s what Valentines do. And there’s something about you I admire. A fighting spirit.”

I give her a smile, understanding what she means. “Thank you.”

Remi walks me to the door. “If something comes available, I’ll let you know, okay?”

“Thanks again,” I tell her, walking down the steps toward my car.

I’m not sure what to expect when I show up at Colt’s like a stray, but I know I’ve run out of options. And for the first time in a long time, that doesn’t scare me half as much as it should.

I plug the address into my GPS, and it says I’m fifteen minutes away.

I take the long, dark road away from the B I can see stars like I’ve never witnessed before, and a part of me wants to pull over, get out, and look up.

When I’m close to the house, it doesn’t give me that warm, welcome feeling that the B & B did.

Still, it dares me like a challenge with a slanted roofline and chipped paint, standing strong, like it’s got something to prove.

Charm might have lived here before, but it packed up long ago and left when hope did.

The wraparound porch is partially lit, casting long shadows across the yard, and I’m not sure if I’m supposed to feel invited or warned.

I cut the engine, and the silence swallows everything.

There’s no city hum. No traffic or sirens or voices.

Only the rapid pounding of my heart and a cricket or three.

I don’t move as I stare out the windshield. This house is big and broken and braver than it should be, but it’s still standing, kind of like me.

Looking over at the passenger seat, I glance at the paper with the B & B logo at the top. The ink’s smudged where I pressed too hard, folding it earlier. There’s a tiny, ridiculous smiley face at the end of the address.

Remi’s overly optimistic, or maybe she knows something I don’t. This could be a reckless decision, but one that I need.

The breeze shifts through the open window, carrying the scent of freshly cut wood and something male, like salt and smoke and earth, and then I see him.

He’s sitting shirtless on the porch swing with one hand resting on a whiskey bottle.

The other is stretched out along the back of the swing, like he’s waiting for someone to join him.

He’s silhouetted against the glow of the porch light, golden and lean, like he was cut out of stone.

It’s almost like he’s part of the house, like he’s always been waiting right there for me to arrive.