Page 14 of Any Second Now (Fort Collins Blizzard Hockey #2)
I’m Not Weird, I’m Unique
RALEIGH
“ A re you fucking with me, Megghen?” I stand with one hand on my hip and the other holding a warm egg that I found nestled in the hood of my hoodie on my actual bed while cleaning up before Atticus arrives.
Why was my chicken on my bed? There’s just no excuse for that. Ever. I thought I closed the door. Can chickens open doors if they try really hard?
“It was a present,” I say in what I imagine is Megghen’s chicken voice. She looks up at me from the tiny square of a kitchen floor and cocks her head.
“I don’t want this kind of present. I also don’t want you pooping on my floor anymore.
” I point to the door. “It was a perfectly nice afternoon and you refused to go outside.” I put the egg in the fridge with the others.
“But there’s still another hour and a half of daylight, so I’m sending you out. ”
“Because you want to be alone with the hot hockey player?” Megghen continues to mock me. “Your best friend’s little brother?” Megghen raises her chicken eyebrows and judges me. “And what are you wearing, anyway? Shorts and a tank top? Try harder.”
She’s so freaking judgmental. I didn’t want to look like I was trying hard for Atticus and our not-real date, so I went with super casual.
And I really don’t want to overthink why I’m having these kinds of conversation with my chicken.
I sigh as Megghen takes a cautious step toward the door.
Yesterday I’d posted in a few of the local online groups about her. I didn’t mention what kind of chicken she was—which I now know is a silkie, thanks to Lachlan—or about her white coloring. I figure if someone messages that they’ve lost a white silkie, it’d be a safe bet they’re telling the truth.
The responses I’ve received so far have ranged from annoying (can you tell me what kind of chicken she is and I can check if I’m missing one?) to creepy (where are you located?
I can come over and check if she’s mine—are you single by the way?) to hilarious (I train chickens and have an opening in my next session, if you’re interested!).
As annoying as she is, one thing’s for sure: I’m not going to give her to just anyone.
I scoop Megghen up—I had to search online for the right way to pick up a chicken, and she actually likes it when I hold her, surprisingly—and fling open the door to the Pink Palace.
Atticus Knox is standing there in a gray Blizzard hoodie, black athletic shorts, and a backwards baseball cap, wide shoulders looking like they’ll barely pass through my doorway, green eyes twinkling.
He’s got a bottle of wine in one hand and a full reusable grocery bag in the other.
The sight kinda makes a breath catch in my throat.
“Oh. Hey.” I say a quick silent prayer that he didn’t hear me speaking in Megghen’s chicken voice.
“Going somewhere with the chicken?”
“I’m going to put her outside in her enclosure until it gets dark. She’s been super grumpy all day.” The chicken reaches her head aggressively toward Atticus, who retreats a few feet so I can step out of the RV.
“Does she want me to pet her?” he asks, looking like he’d really rather not.
“No, I don’t think you pet chickens.”
I squat down to unhook the enclosure and push Megghen inside. She spins around and glares at me with an accusatory boc boc boc under her breath.
“Nothing will happen to you. I swear.” I close the door and hook it as she stalks back toward me. “We’ll come get you when it’s getting dark.” I stand and step away. Who knows what an angry chicken will do?
“Good call.” Atticus stands next to me, watching Megghen. “I don’t want to be defending her against a bear or a mountain lion.”
“Ugh, don’t say stuff like that.” I turn to him and nod at the goodies in his arms. “What do you got there?”
“Red wine.” He holds out the bottle. “And movie snacks.”
“That’s a lot of snacks. Come on in.”
Atticus follows me into the Pink Palace. It feels much smaller with his six-foot-four frame instead of only my five-foot-four one. He seems to take up more space than he did the other night.
And when I turn to him, he’s close. Really close. I know we were alone here briefly and at the restaurant, but this is where we’ll be hanging out for the night, and it’s mere feet away from my bed.
“I’ll grab the bottle opener.” I open the drawer and pull out the corkscrew he left with me last weekend.
“I brought you a pair of real wine glasses.” He pulls a box with two wine glasses out of his bag and places it on the kitchen table. “They had it at the store right next to the wine, so I thought, why not?”
“What?” I smile and shake my head. “Thank you. But that’s ridiculous. Stop buying me stuff.”
“I like how it makes you blush when I do.”
“I’m not blushing,” I lie as my face heats.
“You are. Now give me that corkscrew.” Atticus holds out his hand and I pass him the device, my fingers grazing his palm. I pause at the delightful sensation of our touch.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, saving me, kind of. I pull my hand away and look at my phone. It’s the text chain with Lucy and January.
January
Raleigh and Atticus sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g…
Lucy
First comes love…
January
Then comes… wait, we’re not letting her get married again
Lucy
Then comes situationship?
January
I don’t even know what that means
Lucy
Does anyone??
I crack up and press my phone to my chest for a second.
“Who’s that?” He fills the glasses and sets the bottle down on the table.
“No one,” I say too quickly and glance back down at my phone.
“No one?” Then he dumps the rest of the grocery bag on my table. Microwave popcorn, chocolate, and chips.
“Fine, it’s Lucy and January. They think it’s hilarious we’re hanging out together.”
“Of course they do.” Atticus snorts. “My sister is the nosiest woman I know. ”
I don’t mention that they’re singing playground songs about us.
Me
Very busy, leave me alone
January
YEAH YOU’RE BUSY
Lucy
That’s kinda gross
Me
I’m busy giving your brother a dating lesson, gotta run
January
Wait, babes… pretend you’re an exciting person and do something reckless
Me
Like?
January
If I’ve gotta explain, then…
“You know, texting while hanging out is kind of rude. Didn’t you tell me that the other night?”
I look up, and Atticus is staring at me with a smirk.
“Shit, I’m sorry, you’re right. But it’s with your sister and January, so forgive me?”
Atticus nods toward the loveseat, holding both glasses of wine. “What do they have to say, besides laughing at us?”
“Oh, you know. The usual.”
“So harassing you about your life choices?” Atticus sinks down on one side of the couch, his body turned toward the center.
Well, okay. We will be full on touching once I sit down. I never noticed how small this couch is. I’ve never sat on it with anyone else .
I lower myself next to Atticus and he watches me, a slight smile on his face. Just as I expected, our knees touch when I’m fully seated.
“Cheers.” He holds his glass toward me. “To hanging out with old friends.”
“Cheers.” I clink his and take a gigantic gulp of wine. “Damn, that’s good.”
“It’s my mom’s wine again.”
“Tell her it’s delicious.”
“Next time I talk to her, I will.” This man is staring at me and I’m not sure if I feel uncomfortable with his gaze and proximity or if I want to strip off all my clothing and mount him.
Really? Is this what it’s like to be six months out of a second divorce? Ready to mount the first hot professional hockey player I run into?
I clear my throat and look away. “What movie did you pick?” I grab the remote and click the screen on. “I can project from my phone. The campsite has remarkably good wifi.”
“You go first.”
“Well, I picked a romance, since we’re talking about dating.”
“I did not pick a romance,” he chuckles.
“Mine is Warm Bodies . You’ve probably never?—”
Atticus bursts out laughing, wine almost splattering on his knee.
“You’ve heard of it.” I bite my lip and will my face to not turn bright pink.
“Oh, I’ve heard of it.” He stops laughing but keeps the wide grin. “And I love that movie.”
“What? You do?” I let out a relieved laugh. “I thought you were going to think I was a weirdo for picking it.”
“Well yeah, I kinda do, but I guess that makes me a weirdo too.” Atticus takes off his baseball hat and then re-settles it on his head. “I picked Shaun of the Dead .”
“I love that movie too!” I laugh and push his leg with my hand. “I am obsessed with zombie movies.”
“Same.”
“But I mostly prefer when they are light hearted or funny. Shaun of the Dead is one of my favorites.”
“And it does have some romance in it.” Atticus sips his wine and nudges his knee against mine. “It’s pretty romantic how Shaun battles hordes of zombies to save the woman he loves.”
“That is very true. But in Warm Bodies , he literally becomes un-undead for her. She brings his heart back to life.” It’s actually really romantic and sweet, even though it’s a zombie movie with on-screen brain eating.
“Yeah, good point.” Atticus rubs his chin. “Let’s start with that one, and then it’ll be close to fireworks time.” He grabs peanut butter M&Ms from next to him and offers me the open bag.
“Um, yes, absolutely.” I reach in and pull out a few, popping them in my mouth while I scroll for the movie on my phone. “Peanut butter M&Ms and red wine is perfect. Ten out of ten.”
An hour and a half later, the credits roll and I lean back, eyes closed. I survived a whole movie with my leg pressed against Atticus’s and didn’t even die.
I might have missed half the movie though.
“Love that movie,” I say wistfully.
“A serious happily ever after.”
“Right?” I turn my head toward him and gulp at the intense way he’s staring at me. My words stall in my throat and I forget any commentary I was saving for the end. I gulp and try to slow my heart, which has sped up uncomfortably. “Is it fireworks time yet?”
“Yeah. Let’s go set up.” He stands. “I’ll get a few things from my car.”