“All right.”
Fuck. How did that happen?
Seriously. How did she keep that smile on her face?
A line of children were waiting at the face painting stall, and Lucie greeted each one cheerfully. It made his back teeth ache. It really couldn’t be normal. She wore a bright pink headband that had two sequined cat ears sticking out from it. There were whiskers painted on her face and a black circle on the tip of her nose. She’d pulled her black hair back in a braid, and wore a tail that sat just above her perky, cute butt.
You have no business noticing her ass.
And he definitely had no business noticing how smooth her pale skin was. Or how her smile lit up her face. Everyone seemed to gravitate towards her. Little kids would randomly hug her, and adults often stopped to chat. And she had a smile for all of them.
Just then, her gaze rose and hit his. Surprise filled her face before she gave him a wide grin that he didn’t deserve. But which, strangely, made him want to smile back. He hadn’t felt the urge to smile in years.
Not since Gemma.
She waved at him just as a man approached. He looked to be the same guy from yesterday who’d helped her start her truck. She turned her smile on him, and something in Atticus’ stomach tightened.
That smile wasn’t just for him. He didn’t know why he’d thought it was.
You’re a fool.
This interest a girl that was way too young for him was probably because he’d been alone for years. It had nothing to do with her specifically.
“Hey, there you are. Oh, you found Lucie! Have you said hi?” Rocky walked up to him with a grin before waving over at Lucie.
Atticus glowered at him. “No.”
“Lucie is a sweetheart. You two would get along well, if you’d just be nice.”
He narrowed his gaze. Was Rocky trying to matchmake? Nah, he couldn’t be. Surely, he could see how ill-suited they would be.
“She keeps bringing me food.”
“She does that for everyone,” Rocky told him. “Anyone sick or new to town, Lucie’s always there with food.”
So what he was saying was that Atticus wasn’t special. Got it.
“I’m going to say hi to her then I’m headed to the Watering Hole, it’s a bar not far from here. You want to go get a drink?”
“Yeah,” he said.
Rocky looked at him in surprise, but then nodded. Maybe a couple of beers and some company was what he needed to get his mind off his sweet, cute, annoying little neighbor.
Lucie told herself that she didn’t care.
She didn’t care that her neighbor came to the fair, stared right at her but didn’t come over to say hello. Maybe he thought she was too busy.
Maybe he was just a jerky jerk.
She thought it was the latter, but she was trying not to think mean thoughts. She didn’t need the bad karma.
She finally knew his name, but not because he’d bothered to tell her. No, she’d learned it when Sam Rock had come over to chat with her, asking how she was getting on with Atticus, who happened to be his old college friend.
Unusual name. She thought Sir Grouch-a-lot suited him better, but she didn’t say that to Rocky.
You’re just tired. You get emotional and easily upset when you’re tired.
That’s what she told herself as she stumbled into her cabin, fed Princess Pickles, and lit her fire.
After a quick shower, she pulled on her favorite fleecy pajamas. They had pictures of cake all over them. No doubt her neighbor would disapprove.
She knew she should cook some dinner, but she just didn’t have the energy. Instead, she stumbled into the living room.
Grabbing the blankets and pillows that she kept in the chest under the window, she arranged her bed on the sofa. She usually slept out here once it started getting colder. It was warmer in here than in her bedroom and her bed springs poked into her back.
It was the same single bed that she’d had since she came to live with her grandparents. She didn’t want to use Gran’s bed. That would be weird. Besides, it was too big. She didn’t feel secure in it on her own.
Lastly, she grabbed Ziggy. He was old and only had one eye, but her Daddy had given the stuffed dog to her when she was three, and she wouldn’t give him up for the world. Snuggling under the blankets, she watched the flames of the fire flicker.
Eventually, her eyelids grew heavy and her thumb made its way into her mouth.
So what if her neighbor didn’t like her? Plenty of people did.
She was loved. She had a roof over her head. She had a cat, food, and clothing.
What more did she need? She was in a far better position than most people.
Tomorrow, she’d drop off some muffins to her grumpy neighbor as a thanks for letting her use his phone.
And then that was that. She was done.
Atticus yawned as he headed out of his bedroom and into the kitchen. Another nightmare. He didn’t understand why they were coming more frequently lately. He poured a glass of water and downed it in several gulps. He didn’t know why he looked over towards his neighbor’s cabin.
Except he did that pretty much every day, didn’t he? Was he hoping to see her? Then what?
If you wanted to see her, then why didn’t you knock on her door last week when you returned her plate?
The plate she’d left on his porch with freshly baked blueberry muffins on it.
Damn woman made a good blueberry muffin.
He frowned as he noticed how many lights were on. What was she doing awake at—he glanced over at the clock on the oven—three in the morning? He tapped his fingers against the countertop. He likely wouldn’t go back to sleep now. He could go over there and . . . what? Ask her what the hell she was doing? Tell her to go to bed?
None of your business, asshole.
He got the feeling she was avoiding him. Which should make him ecstatic. Only, he wondered how much of an asshole you had to be, that someone as friendly and sweet as Lucie would avoid you.
A pretty big one, he was betting.
Sighing, he walked out into the living room, pausing by the one photo he had of her in the house.
What would Gemma think of him now? Of the way he’d basically withdrawn from life? Of how he’d treated his neighbor?
She’d be ashamed of you.
Fuck.
Gemma was almost the complete opposite of Lucie. His wife had been quiet. She’d never have knocked on his door the way Lucie had that first day. She wouldn’t have lived on her own in the city, let alone out here in the middle of nowhere. She’d get nervous on her own at night. When he was away for work, she’d go stay with her parents or a friend.
Being on her own in a cabin in the woods would have been her worst nightmare.
And yet, he couldn’t help but feel like she might have liked Lucie.
Which somehow made him feel even worse.
She hated ladders.
She hated heights.
She hated trees.
Well, not really. But trees created leaves, and leaves got into her gutters and blocked them up, and then she had to get on the ladder and climb up to clean out the gutters.
If she had any spare cash, she would use it to pay someone to clean the darn gutters. But she didn’t, and so it was up to her.
“You can do it, Lucie. It’s not that high up. Stop being such a wuss.” Heaving out the huge ladder that weighed a freaking ton, she carried it to the house and somehow got it set up. By the time she did that, she was sweating and puffing.