Page 37 of Any Second Now
This summer I’m decidedly more nervous.
Especially about that asshole Barrett Steele.
But tonight my reward is I get to hang out with Raleigh.
As my dating coach? What the fuck. But I like her. She’s funny. And pretty. And while I used to think of her as polished and put together, now she seems to have leaned in to another side of herself.
And I like that side.
I liked her before, but I might like the cross-stitching, RV-driving chicken lady even more.
After snort-laughing at the flimsy-ass chicken coup in front of the Pink Palace, I knock on the door to the RV, my knuckles making a tinny sound.
She’s living in an oversized tuna can. How is this even safe?
Raleigh opens the door and I can’t help the smile from widening on my face. She’s wearing a sleeveless blue sundress with a low neckline that offers a hint of the swell of her breasts, and the hem stops halfway up her thighs. I try really hard not to let my eyes linger on her legs or tempting cleavage.
“Hey, I just need a few more minutes.” Raleigh’s curled her short hair away from her face. She gestures to an eye, like I’m supposed to know what that means, and glances over her shoulder back into the trailer. “Come on in, I guess.”
“Have time for that tour?”
“Sure, and it’ll take about sixty seconds.” Raleigh sighs and steps back from the doorway.
I step into the RV and look around.
“Wow, it’s actually roomier on the inside than I thought it would be,” I lie. She lives here? This place is a closet.
“It is absolutely not.” Raleigh narrows her eyes at me.
“Um, yeah, you’re right.” I shake my head. “This whole place would fit into my bedroom.”
“Shut up.” Raleigh reaches over and gently pushes me in the biceps. “It’s home for now. This is the kitchen.” She doesn’t move but points to the sink, small refrigerator, and double cabinets. “This is the dining room.”
My eyes settle on the table, where there are piles of yarn and what I’m assuming are other cross-stitch materials.
“I know, it’s a mess.” Raleigh tries to step between me and the table. “I basically move the pile from my bed to the table and back to my bed. There’s really nowhere to store it.”
It’s really not a mess. Organized clutter, more like it.
The table is next to the entrance, and on the other side is a snug two-seater sofa with a pair of comfy-looking pillows and a pink fleece blanket hung across the back.
In front of the sofa is a tiny tent with mesh sides.
And a white, fluffy chicken inside.
“And this is Megghen.”
“Wow.” I squat down and peer at the bird.
Megghen stares at me with beady little chicken eyes.
“Wow, she’s so pretty?” Raleigh suggests.
“Sure. And wow, a chicken in a tent in a pink RV is not something you see every day.”
“Ah. Yes. That.”
“To be sure I understand, she’s inside because any creature on this big beautiful green earth could break into her flimsy chicken coup?”
