Page 33 of Fixing to Be Mine

“You have no idea what you’ve done,” he says, amused.

I arch a brow. “Should I be worried?”

“Depends.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, laughing under his breath. “By sunset, the whole town’s gonna think I’m in a serious relationship with an out-of-towner. Can you handle that?”

I have the urge to kiss him, to see if I experience the same sparks as I do with his hand gripped around my waist. I swallow hard, my breath growing ragged. “You don’t know what I can handle.”

“I have an idea.” He lifts my chin with his other hand, and we’re locked in a moment of time together. “Honestly, I didn’t think I’d be dealing with a girlfriend rumor this week.”

“I’m sorry about that,” I whisper.

“Don’t be. Just get ready to play the part.”

I blink out of my haze. “Excuse me?”

“You started it, and now the games have begun.”

“No, no, no. I was trying to piss her off. Make her realize what she’d lost. I didn’t volunteer myself to be your fake girlfriend,” I say as he guides me toward the kitchen.

“Sorry. That’s not how things work around here,” he says. “You confirmed a rumor. It’s an avalanche now.”

He makes me want things I haven’t wanted in a long time, things I didn’t know could exist.

I return to my seat at the table in the kitchen. Colt pours us fresh cups of coffee as I stare out the bay window. In the back pasture, I see a large yellow barn and two horses grazing.

“Do you ride?”

He grins, glancing out the window. “Yeah. I’m surprised you didn’t assume. You know, with all the Texan jokes floating around. Most think we take our horses to school.”

I snicker. “Did you?”

“We sometimes did,” he admits, handing me a fresh cup.

There’s a long pause.

“So, Tessa … she’s very pretty,” I offer because it’s true.

“So are rattlesnakes,” he replies without missing a beat. “They’ll still kill you.”

That earns a full-on laugh from me, and I notice how his eyes soften at the sound.It does something to me, and I’m suddenly aware of how natural it feels, being with him.

“Are blondes your type?” I ask, halfway teasing, but I genuinely want to know.

“Smart and confident is my type,” he says. “Wanting to know if you’re my type?”

My mouth parts, but I can’t answer. It’s too direct. He’s right, it’s not something I’m used to experiencing with men.

“You are,” he confirms. “Sassy little brunettes drive me fucking crazy.”

“When I leave, will you be running back to her now that she seems interested again?” As soon as the words are out, I wince.“Sorry. That’s none of my business. You don’t have to answer that.”

He stares at me, like he’s trying to figure me out. “And what if the answer was yes?”

My stomach tightens. I don’t like the idea of him carrying any emotions for her, especially not when he’s looking at me with so much adoration in his eyes that I can’t unsee it.

“Wait, is that jealousy?” he asks, but I have a feeling he already knows the answer.

“Maybe.” I shrug. “But she’s not the one standing in your kitchen, wearing your shirt, now is she? Or the one sleeping in your bed.”

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