Page 15 of Any Second Now (Fort Collins Blizzard Hockey #2)

I follow Atticus outside and grab Megghen from her enclosure. I tuck her into her tent in the Pink Palace right outside my bedroom door and she boc boc bocs at me .

“Relax. You’re inside so you don’t get eaten. And in this tent so you don’t poop everywhere and hide eggs.”

When I get back out, Atticus has a picnic blanket spread out in front of two fancy captains chairs, the kind that rock back and forth.

They look suspiciously new. Not like my cheap ass chair that is ripping at the side so whenever I sit it kind of leans crookedly and I wonder if today’s the day it’ll break and toss me onto the ground.

Atticus pours me wine from a new bottle.

“Did we really finish the bottle?”

“Yep.” He hands me my refilled glass.

“You’re not having one?”

“I’d love to, but I shouldn’t if I’m going to drive home.” He looks at me with alarm. “Which, of course, I am going to do.”

I sip from my glass and know I should probably not have any more either. I’m too relaxed, too giddy, too… something.

“You can always sleep it off on the couch.” I attempt to make my tone as casual as possible, but almost definitely fail. “My very tiny couch.”

“I’m not sure I’d fit.” Atticus chuckles and stares at me for a beat longer than is comfortable.

Then the fireworks start, and he finally looks away.

It takes me another few seconds to turn to the explosions of red, white, and blue light in the sky.

I sneak another look at Atticus, who looks back at me right away.

“What are you thinking about, Raleigh?”

“ Warm Bodies ,” I say immediately, the double entendre hitting me a second later.

He raises an eyebrow with a grin. “There’s a lot to think about.”

I laugh. “I’m probably thinking too deeply about a zombie movie, but it kind of represents someone completely changing who they are for someone else.”

“You don’t think people can change?” His voice sounds tight.

“I mean, that much? Probably not. ”

Definitely not. People simply don’t change that much. In reality, people are who they are. And maybe they shouldn’t change for someone else.

Once a compulsive liar, always a compulsive liar.

Once a player, always a player?

“That’s why I don’t do relationships. I’ll never be good at them. It’s in my blood.”

I swallow and turn back to the colorful display reflecting off the lake. I want to argue with him that he could definitely be good at relationships. But what do I know?

“Do you really think that’s true?” I finally say instead.

He doesn’t answer and we watch the rest of the fireworks until the big finale. I expect Atticus to head out. But instead, he glances back at the Pink Palace.

“ Shaun of the Dead? ”

“Sure,” I say, even though it’s late and I should send him home.

This time, I don’t hesitate to sit down next to Atticus. This time, our whole bodies touch. He puts his arm around the back of the couch and we watch Shaun and his friends battle zombies in England.

“I got it,” Atticus says suddenly and I almost jump. He laughs and lets his arm drop around my shoulders. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you during a zombie movie.”

“No problem. What do you got?” I turn to Atticus and we are so. Close. Together.

“You can make a whole zombie cross-stitch series. Like: I prefer zombies to people. Or: Don’t worry, zombies only like brains. ”

“Stop it, that’s amazing.” I chuckle softly.

“Yeah? I’m not sure there’s a big market for that though.”

“People love zombies.” My eyes involuntary drift to his lips.

“Mmmm, is that true?” His arm is still resting on my shoulders, like we’re meant to be snuggling on the couch just like this, and I swear he tugs me just a tad closer .

“Maybe?” I push his knee with my hand and let it linger for a few more seconds. “Or is it just us?”

Just us. I like the sound of it.

Suddenly the air in the room starts buzzing.

Or maybe the noise has been there all along, like the background noise of summer cicadas.

I’m warm and happy and laughing with Atticus Knox, and he’s looking at me like I’m his kind of weird—shit that’s another good quote, but he’s not moving, and I don’t think he will.

But the bottle of wine I’ve consumed gives me the courage and I lean forward to close the distance between us, pausing before our lips touch.

“Raleigh,” he says, his voice raspy. It’s a warning, and a question, and maybe an invitation.

“Yes.” I answer all of them.

Atticus slides his hand along my jaw and into my hair. His breath is hot on my lips. We’re frozen in space and time and anticipation.

I flash back to every party during college where we’d flirt and tease each other.

Every time I’ve insisted he’s just my best friend’s little brother.

I’m back to New Year’s Eve when we finally got to kiss.

And now? I’m getting the chance to do it all over again.

But it’s different this time.

Because we’re alone.

And it’s breaking the once and never again rule we agreed to.

Fuck it. Who cares about rules.

“Any second now, Atticus.”

Atticus smiles lazily and slowly closes the remaining inches between us, touching our lips together so gently I let out a soft sigh.

Holy hell, the feel of his mouth on mine.

I’ve missed it so much. How is that possible?

I’ve only kissed him once in my life, but I still missed him.

I press my mouth onto his and let my lips fall open.

His tongue meets mine, and it’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about for six months .

Atticus wraps his hands around my waist and tugs me until I’m sitting on his lap, allowing me to melt against his chest as our mouths come together again and again.

He has a hand on the skin of my waist where my tank top has ridden up and the other buried in the fine strands of my hair.

A little whimper escapes my throat. Atticus pauses and then pulls me even closer, his breathing sharper.

His shorts are thin and mine are ridden up so my bare thighs are pressing against his hard length. It feels so good being in his arms.

But I’m so in my head.

Is this another example of me jumping in with someone too soon after a big breakup? But this time it’s Lucy’s brother? And am I really jumping in or just overthinking kissing?

I shove the distracting thoughts out of my head and bury my hands in Atticus’s thick curls, pushing his baseball cap off and leaning into him. I can feel him smile against my lips.

He shifts his body and gently runs his tongue along my bottom lip, then nips it between his teeth. My head spins with the pleasure of it. The teasing. I could kiss him forever.

There’s so much between us. He’s not just a random guy.

This is Atticus. There’s an encyclopedia unspoken and I want us to read every page together.

Atticus’s hand drifts from my waist to the outside of my bare thigh, and he strokes a single finger inside the hem of my shorts, exploring, testing, touching.

I whimper again and shift on his lap, looking for more.

Is this me being a good dating coach?

The thought makes me pause. Literally and figuratively.

“Raleigh?” Atticus pulls back until he can focus on my eyes. His are hooded and turned dark green, like the color of a forest of pine trees as night falls. “You okay?” He lifts the hand from my leg and tucks a chunk of hair behind my ear, his fingertips grazing my sensitive earlobe.

I slowly slide my hands out of his hair. I stare at his lips, a deep red from kissing me .

Ohhhhh no.

I can’t do this. I can’t do this with him . I can’t let myself get all wrapped up. Doesn’t he like someone else? And even if that’s not a good enough reason, this is Atticus.

Atticus Knox.

Not only my friend’s little brother, but also the biggest player I’ve ever met. Not interested in relationships.

And I have no business starting something with anyone so soon after my second divorce.

Especially him.

I do a weird little rolling maneuver to remove myself from his lap and pretend I don’t see his cock tenting his shorts. What I would do to see what’s under that fabric.

“I’m not sure this is helping you learn how to date,” I say with a nervous laugh, tugging the hem of my tank down to cover bare skin.

Atticus’s brow furrows for the briefest of seconds, and then his face smooths out. He adjusts himself and I try not to watch.

“Right.” He pushes his hair off his forehead and grabs his hat from where it’s wedged between his back and the cushion. His usual flirty smile returns to his face. “Sorry about that, I got a little carried away in the moment. Inspired by your romantic zombie movie.”

Words get stuck in my throat.

“I think you’ll do just fine with Rose.” I clear my throat but it sounds like a squeak. He blinks and it reminds me of a flinch. I know I get her name right this time.

“I’ve never had a problem hooking up with women. It’s more the other stuff.”

Now it’s my turn to flinch.

“Shit, that came out wrong, Raleigh. Sorry.”

And I’ve never had a problem getting in over my head way too fast .

“But don’t worry. I understand.” I nod too enthusiastically. “You’re good at the other stuff, too.”

Like how he’s made me feel tonight. Let’s call it… overwhelmed.

God, this is embarrassing. He must have women throw themselves at him all the time. Hooking up is second nature to him.

I am not special.

And I better be careful not to let myself get too wrapped up in Atticus.

He’s not mine.

Not now, not ever.

“Good.” I nod and turn back to the movie, which we missed a bunch of. My buzz is also gone, disappeared the second I pushed myself off Atticus’s lap.

But the air is still alive between us. Charged with all that is unsaid and undone. Or maybe it’s just me being incredibly awkward. I can feel his eyes on the side of my face.

“Raleigh?”

“Yeah?” I slowly turn to him. We could just talk about this. I could tell him why I’m being weird so he understands. He’s already pleasantly surprised me with seeming to enjoy all my newfound quirkiness: the Pink Palace, Megghen, cross-stitch, zombie movies.

I can fix this. I open my mouth to say something, but he talks first.

“I’m good to drive home.” Atticus stands and I pause the movie.

Great. So I got drunk and climbed on his lap. Wait, is that what happened?

“Okay,” I say, but I don’t want him to go, I want him to stay and talk to me, to make sure things aren’t weird between us.

Atticus stands and walks the few feet to the door of my RV.

“You good here by yourself?” Atticus puts his hand on the doorknob .

“Yeah, of course.” My stomach drops. He’s really leaving. Because I fucked things up between us by initiating a kiss.

“Talk to you soon?”

I nod.

“Lock the door behind me.” He pauses for a second, as if giving me a chance to say something, but I don’t. He winks and shuts the tinny door behind him.

I hate being in this RV by myself. Usually I lock up and bury myself in my bed with a good book to forget where I am, Fred tucked next to me.

Lately, I’ve been reading that memoir about the woman who has a massive sexual awakening after she got dumped and fired.

Is that what Atticus is suggesting I do?

Nah. That one isn’t me. Tonight I’ll start the travel memoir. Maybe that’s more my style. At least I know I’m not the only woman who’s ever found herself lost and confused in the face of major life milestones.

But I think that maybe I am not, in fact, good here by myself.