Page 30 of Fixing to Be Mine

“Even if I don’t have the proper skills?”

She bites her bottom lip, and I can feel the heat building under the lightness of our conversation. The slow burn between us is warming back up like it never cooled.

“Damn right,” I admit.

She turns toward the window, her silhouette outlined in sunlight, and I don’t know what I ever did to deserve waking up to this view of her.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” I say, moving past her.

Sunny watches me disappear down the hallway. I move into my bedroom, and in the closet, next to my box of journals, I grab the extra one I bought a few months ago. It’s leather, hardcover, with a heart-shaped brass lock on the side. I didn’t know why I was drawn to that specific one, but it called out to me, and now I know why.

I move back to the kitchen and step toward her. “Close your eyes.”

“I don’t like surprises,” she admits.

“Oh well. Now, hold your hand out,” I tell her, and when she does, I put it in her palm. “You can look.”

Her pretty eyes trace over the cover, and then she flips through the blank pages. “What’s this?”

“A gift. You don’t have to write anything down. But when my head’s too full, sometimes, it helps. You write it, close the cover, lock it up, and you don’t have to carry it with you anymore. It’s a safe place for your thoughts,” I add, tapping the little lock. “No one reads it but you. No pressure. Figured it’d help.”

She stares at it like it’s too nice to touch. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

It’s not just the words; it’s how I handed her something with no strings attached. “I can see the weight you’re carrying. I want to help however I can.”

Her lips part. “I think this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

And that’s the moment I realize she doesn’t need a place to stay. She needs a place tobe.

I walk back to the counter as she slides the journal closer, running her fingers along the spine, like she’s thinking about all the things she’d write.

And when it starts to feel like the beginning of something, I hear a knock at the front door.

Sunny’s brows lift.

“Expecting someone?” she asks.

“Nope,” I say. “Are you?”

This makes her laugh. I don’t know who’s on the other side, but I’ve got a feeling that the moment I open it, this perfect morning we’ve shared is about to get complicated.

CHAPTER NINE

SUNNY

The knock hasn’t finished echoing before something shifts in Colt’s posture. He’s not tense, just overly aware, like he recognizes the cadence of whoever it is.

“That your secret girlfriend?” I offer.

“Darlin’, you’re the only woman in my life right now,” he says, and I swear his drawl thickens.

I swallow hard, my eyes trailing over his muscles. He looks good—barefoot, messy hair, coffee in hand, smirking at me like I’m the best damn thing ever to enter his kitchen. Maybe I am. I find that hard to believe though.

“Might be one of my brothers or sisters stoppin’ by on the way to town. Happens regularly,” he tells me, breaking me out of my daze.

Another knock follows, but this time it’s louder and more impatient. Whoever it is, they’re impatient as fuck.

“Well, shit. Guess I’d better go get that,” he mutters, setting his mug on the counter. “I’ll be right back.”

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