Page 12 of Fixing to Be Mine

“I’m in,” I echo, and I immediately feel the shift beneath my feet, like my entire world is changing.

When that cute-as-fuck smirk spreads across his lips, I think he feels it too.

“Music to my damn ears. Welcome home, babe.”

I can’t help the smile that takes over.

CHAPTER FOUR

COLT

She says she’s in, and for a second, I forget how to breathe. Not because she said yes, but because of how she said it, like it was the only possible answer. It wasn’t a surrender or a decision made from desperation, but rather a personal challenge. Her voice carried grit, like someone who’d been clinging to the edge too long and finally found a branch.

Sunny steps forward, and she’s so damn close that I can smell her shampoo. I glance down into her green eyes, and before I can say anything, she reaches for the whiskey that’s still grasped in my hand. She doesn’t ask, doesn’t pause, but wraps her fingers around the neck of the bottle, lifts it to her plump lips, and takes a long, unbothered drink.

The sharp oak and fire always hit the hardest at first, but she takes it like a champ without wincing. This brand of whiskey burns its way down and stays in your belly awhile. She gulps it down like she wants it to hurt, or she needs it to hush whatever’s screaming inside that pretty little head of hers. The way she grabbed that bottle said what she wouldn’t. I don’t know her, but I know she’s not fine, even if she’s still standing.

It was easy for her to reach for something that wasn’t hers, and it makes me want to give her everything she’s ever wanted.

The hallway is silent, except for the faint creak of the old floor beneath her boots and the distant hum of the fridge in the kitchen. I can’t stop watching her or admiring how damn pretty she is as she takes a breath, then goes in for round two. She drinks like something inside her is unraveling and the liquid fire will keep it together.

When she hands the bottle back, our fingers brush together for a second too long.

Fuck.It’s almost too much.

I’m suddenly aware of how close we’re standing. The heat of her clings to my skin like the summer sun. She’s suddenly everywhere all at once as her eyes slide down to my lips and my chest. For once, I’m glad I didn’t bother putting a shirt back on when I got out of the shower. She looks back up at me with those sparkling green eyes, and I take a step away from her before I do something stupid, like slide my lips across hers. It’s so fucking tempting as the electricity swarms between us.

A blush hits her cheeks, and she tucks her bottom lip into her mouth, like she wants the same thing.

“I think I needed that drink,” she tells me, the smoky whiskey already on her breath.

Whatever’s got her running is braided with pride because she’s not in distress from what I can tell. I think that’s what gets me most about her. It’s obvious this woman isn’t looking for someone to rescue her. Nah, I think she’s more than capable of saving herself, which is why she’s here. But I do believe she’s trying to land somewhere without falling apart.

“Did someone hurt you?” I ask. My voice is soft, but my jaw clenches tight.

“Not physically. I’ll live. I’m pissed,” she says, nostrils flaring, and I immediately know she’s dealing with heartbreak.

I push the bottle back toward her. “Pissed I can deal with. Glad I’m not going to have to track a motherfucker down.”

Her brows pop upward. “You would?”

“Without a doubt,” I tell her.

“You’re something else.” She chuckles and takes another swig before letting out a hot breath.

I can’t believe this woman, who’s been on my mind for two days, is standing in my hallway, drinking my whiskey.

“Apologies. I’ve had too much to drink tonight,” I tell her. “Right now, I’m wondering if this is really happening.”

She reaches forward and pokes my stomach. “Yep. It’s real.”

“This is a very unexpected turn of events,” I mutter.

“I agree,” she says.

I clear my throat, trying to shake whatever the hell that was. I’m under her spell.

“This way,” I say, nodding toward my bedroom.

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