Page 53 of Fixing to Be Mine

I dip my head out of the closet. “Ya did. Now I’m gonna make sure I’m not the only one losing my mind in this house. You tease me. I’mma tease you back.”

She scoffs. “Is that a threat?”

I grab a black Western shirt with pearl buttons and slide it on over my shoulders, then grab my nice pair of boots. I move to the bed, sitting beside her as I put them on. “That’s a damn promise.”

We’re close—too close—and her smile softens as she stares at me. Sunny moves her journal onto the nightstand and swings her legs over the bed.

“Ready to go show off?” I ask.

“I suppose,” she says.

She stands slowly—boots already on, shirt on, cutoffs barely legal, and that damn hat tilted so effortlessly. I adjust her shirt, pushing the sleeves down her shoulders.

“Should be worn like this,” I tell her, noticing goose bumps trail across her arms when I touch her.

The golden light from the window cuts across her bare shoulders and legs, and for a second, I forget we’re not strangers.

I take a step back just to get a full view, like I need distance to survive it.

“Damn,” I say because it’s the only thing that makes it out of my mouth. “You’re a cowboy princess.”

She grins, tilting the brim of the hat. “Yeah?”

“You’re dressed like you belong,” I confess.

She walks toward me with lethal confidence.

“Well,” she says, stopping just shy of my chest, “that was kind of the point.”

I stare at her lips for a beat too long. “Behave.”

“No promises,” she offers as she brushes past me.

Every part of me wants to reach for her. Touch her. Say something that means more than it’s supposed to. But instead, I grab my keys and follow her out the door, trying to pretend she isn’t exactly what I’ve been waiting for my entire life.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

SUNNY

The fairground lights come into view long before we pull into the lot. Rows of trucks line the dirt road. The air is thick with dust and the kind of excitement that can’t be faked. A steady thump of country music hums through the evening heat, layered with laughter and the occasional cheer from the arena. In the distance, there’s a Ferris wheel and a few carnival rides.

Colt drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the console between us. His fingers tap out a slow rhythm like he’s at ease, but I can feel the energy rolling off him. It’s focused, a little wired, or maybe that’s only me. I try to keep my breathing even.

This isn’t the first time I’ve gone somewhere where all eyes will be on me, but I’m nervous. I want to fit in here.

Colt kills the engine, and we sit still. I’m suddenly hyperaware of everything. The cutoffs clinging to my legs. The weight of his hat on my head. Nerves flutter beneath the surface of my skin. I’ve stood in front of thousands of people before, but this is different. I care if this town likes me.

His eyes move slowly from my neck to my waist to my thighs, like he’s memorizing something. Or maybe warning himself not to.

“Are ya ready?” he asks with a lazy smile.

“Are you?” I counter.

He grins wider, and it’s easy, cocky, and unfairly hot. “I was born ready, darlin’, especially for this.”

Colt hops out of the truck and walks around the front to open my door. He’s wearing a black Stetson, and it suits him. I step out into the buzz of the small-town energy. The rodeo grounds are packed with trucks lined up like dominoes. Horse trailers are parked on the other side. The air smells like kettle corn and fried food with the faint scent of hay. Kids run wild with gigantic sticks of bright blue cotton candy while speakers blast country music. In the distance, an announcer speaks, followed by cheers from the crowd.

“This is unreal,” I whisper.

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