Page 37 of Fixing to Be Mine

“Says the woman who stormed into my life like she had been made for it.” His voice is wrapped in that slow drawl I’m starting to crave. “It will be an adventure.”

I exhale, but I’m smiling now. He’s right; I won’t be here for very long.

Colt brushes past me to grab something from the pantry, and I love the way he smells like mountain air.

“Don’t you think we should set some ground rules?” I ask after seeing goose bumps form on my skin. I try to rub them away.

“My only rule is to be yourself,” he says with a box of pancake mix in his hands. He pulls a waffle maker from a cabinet. “The rest will figure itself out. It always does.”

I roll my eyes. “This could be a disaster.”

“Disaster?” He winks. “Nah. It’ll be a moment. Trust the process.”

He mixes batter like he doesn’t have a worry in the world.

“Okay, but I have rules too,” I say, narrowing my eyes.

“Gimme ’em.”

As soon as the batter hits the hot waffle press, the room fills with the scent of sugary sweetness.

“But know that the second you say no touching or no flirting, I’m gonna have to do those things.”

My brows furrow. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m a Valentine, babe,” he says, grinning. “We’re rule breakers. That’s why it’s safer not to have any.”

I sigh. “Okay, so what about PDA? That’s a line we shouldn’t fake.”

“You’re right. Hand-holding is innocent enough. That’ll get the point across at the rodeo.”

“The rodeo?!” I repeat. “I didn’t agree to that.”

He shrugs like it’s obvious. “Okay, but how else am I supposed to introduce my girl to the whole town at once?”

I stare at him. He called me his girl, and I like it.

“I cannot fall in love with you, Colt Valentine,” I say, mostly to myself.

“Then don’t kiss me. That’s when the curse kicks in.”

I look at him like he’s out of his mind.

“The curse?”

“Yeah, it’s a Valentine thing. I have a way of gettin’ under women’s skin and stayin’ there for a long damn time, and all it takes is one kiss. Why do you think Tessa showed up today? I’ve not been with anyone since her, and she’s threatened that I might be moving on.”

“Are you?” I ask.

“Darlin’, I think you hold the answer to that question, not me.”

He grins, and I hate what it does to me.

“I can’t answer that.”

“One day, you will,” he encourages.

As I sit in his kitchen as he makes me breakfast, this begins to feel like the start of something unraveling.

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