Page 26 of Fixing to Be Mine

“Colt,” I say, louder than a breath.

“Don’t deny yourself the things you want, especially not me,” he adds.

I blink a few times, tucking my emotions behind my ten-foot wall, and straighten my back. “I can’t have you.”

He smirks. “Why?”

“This conversation is ridiculous.” I stare at him.

“We both know where this is headin’. Gotta be honest though, I do have some rules if we move forward.”

He takes a step toward me and places his hand on my hip. “Forward with what, exactly?”

“This. I know you feel it too,” he says.

I open my mouth to speak but lose the ability.

“Tell me your rules,” I finally say.

“No strings attached. I want you to live your life without thinking you need to uproot your entire life to be with me.”

My brows furrow. “You act like I’m going to fall in love with you.”

“You will. And you know you will. That’s why you’re so hesitant.” His brow cocks up as he watches me. “But you also want me out of your system.”

“Seriously?” I want to deny it, but I can’t. That would be a lie, and I’ve already told enough of those since I left New York. I add a scoff at the end for good measure.

“Deny it if it’s not true,” he simply says.

I look at him—really look at him. He easily sees straight through me.

“I recently got out of a very serious four-year relationship. The last thing I need to do is have?—”

“Fun. I agree,” he says. “Especially considering what will happen if this line is crossed. That’s why you have to make that decision. Not me.”

My mouth falls open. “You’re so confident and cocky about this.”

“No, I’m just direct. Something you’re not used to handling from me,” he says. “You don’t intimidate me.”

I scoff, but it turns into laughter. “I do intimidate fragile men. I can’t deny that. But trust me when I say, I’m not going to fallin lovewith you.”

“Okay.” He says it so casually; it shouldn’t make my breath catch, but it does. “Before we move forward with this, I have a question for ya.”

“Yes?”

“If you met the perfect partner, would you want to have kids?” he asks.

I stare at him, trying to figure out why he’s asking me this. “The perfect partner doesn’t exist.”

“Darlin’, you’re wrong about that. Now, come on. Quit stallin’. Your answer determines everything. You have to be truthful,” he says, moving away from me. He pulls his dresser drawer open, slides out a shirt, then tugs it over his body.

I cross my arms tighter over my chest, trying to build some armor between us, but it’s useless. He already heard me come undone. He heard me say his name like a prayer I didn’t mean to whisper.

“If the perfect man existed, then yes,” I say, blinking up at him. “Well? Did I pass or fail?”

“Right answer. I can’t cross a line with anyone who doesn’t eventually want to have a family.” He grins, and it’s cocky, but it holds a promise.

“I understand. But if I met the perfect man and he didn’t want children, I’d make that sacrifice for true love,” I tell him.

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