Page 16 of Any Second Now
“Oh, I actually do have one more thing for you.” He jumps up and heads to his car.
“Really?” I stare at his departing back. His shoulders lift in a shrug, and he opens the back door to his red Jeep Wrangler. “Is that car even practical in the Colorado winters?” I call, watching him lean in, appreciating his t-shirt taut against his back and shoulders.
“It’s great in the snow,” he says when he gets back to the table, carrying an oversized rectangular box under his arm. Atticus flips it around so I can see the label and image. I crack up.
“A hammock?” I look up at him with a smile.
“Yeah. And you have the perfect two trees to set it up between.” He nods next to the picnic table, where he’s right—there are two perfect hammock trees with a view of the beautiful lake. “Happy housewarming. RV warming?”
“Most people bring a plant.” No one’s brought me a plant. In fact, only my mother has even seen the Pink Palace.
“You’re surrounded by plants. Want me to hang it?”
I nod and Atticus grabs the box and begins unpacking it. Sometimes my ex-husband would buy thoughtful things for the house. But he’d leave it in a box for months and months until I put it together myself, hired someone to do it, or shoved it in the back of a closet. There was a lot of that to donate after he moved out.
Divorcing that man broke my heart in a different way than my first husband had. Ryan had cheated on me. Leaving him was easy. Jacob lied to me, kept secrets, lost a ton of money, and kept at it until I filed for divorce a year ago. All those lies both suddenly and gradually pulled me out of love with him.
Seeing Atticus is a breath of fresh air. He reminds me of carefree, happier days, surrounded by friends and optimistic about the future.
“So your travel plans got cancelled for the summer, huh.”
Atticus looks at me with raised eyebrows.
“Lucy told me.” I shrug. At least it goes both ways—Lucy tells too much to both of us.
“Of course.” He turns back to the pile of materials for the hammock and bends down to pick up the directions. He takes one look before crumpling it up and tossing the paper into the empty box. “Lachlan bailed on me for his new girlfriend. A university professor.”
“Bummer.” I pull on my skinny ponytail. “Who are you going to pick up women with then?”
“Hey, I’m not like that.” He glances up and a flash of hurt crosses his face. “Not these days, anyway. And definitely not this summer. Harley’s home in Maine with his girlfriend. Kellen’s traveling with Lucy. Lachlan’s busy being in love. And I’m here.” He secures one hammock strap around the tree and pulls the materialgently across to the other tree, then wraps that strap securely around the trunk.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to imply anything bad.”
Before leaving on her trip, Lucy had told me that Atticus hasn’t really been himself the past few months, even before his injury. Kellen told her he’d not been bringing girls home when they traveled.
A flash of him kissing me against the wall in that hotel on New Year’s Eve pops into my brain in full detail. Has he thought about our kiss as much as I have? No way. I pull at the neck of my t-shirt, grateful he’s not still sitting at the picnic table where he would be observing me close up.
“There, perfect.” Atticus steps back and admires his work, then looks at me for approval.
“Thank you.” I smile at his proud expression.
“I’ll just test this out.” Atticus gracefully slides into the hammock and sighs happily, his body lying snugly horizontal. “Perfect. Care to join me?”
“What? No.” I laugh, and so does he, but I picture climbing on top of him and snuggling up to his hard, muscled body. I shake my head and he takes it as a firm no.
Oh—new cross-stitch idea.Hammocks: the worst place to hookup.Or maybe something likehammocks are a reminder being single is better.
Okay, that one’s terrible.
“How long are you staying in Fort Collins?” Atticus rolls to the side and hops out of the hammock. There’s no way I’m doing that in front of anyone. I’ll probably loop around like a fidget spinner. Atticus runs his hands over his clean-shaven chin. “Lucy’s not due back home for another month.”
“I don’t know. There’s a few things I want to get fixed on the Pink Palace, like touch up the paint—” I gesture toward the scraped and peeling pink paint next to the door. “—and reseal that window so the AC works better.”
“That shouldn’t take too long.” He crosses his arms next to the picnic table.
“I’ve also got a side hustle to catch up on.”
“Side hustle?” One eyebrow shoots up.
