He muttered something under his breath, then drew his phone from out of his pocket, handing it to her.

  “Thank you.” It took everything in her to say thanks, but Gran had raised her to be polite. Even if the other person was being a jerk.

  Thankfully, she knew Mac’s number by heart. She quickly called him, and he assured her that he’d be there within the hour. Then she handed the phone back to her grouchy neighbor with a smile.

  “Thanks so much. Sorry to disturb you. And take up so much of your time.”

  He just studied her as he took back the phone. “You got no business driving that truck.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She gave him a tight smile. “Have a nice day.”

  “Get your phone fixed.” Turning, he left.

  Wow. Just wow.

  Atticus Mann stared out the window towards where his chatty, flighty, annoying neighbor lived.

  He’d come to the wilds of Wyoming for some peace and quiet. Instead, he’d managed to move next door to the biggest chatterbox he’d ever encountered. She just never stopped. She was always smiling.

  It wasn’t natural. No one could be that happy. Even when he was being a dick, she chatted away to him as though they were friends.

  Well, they weren’t. And she’d soon understand that he wasn’t interested in being friends. He wanted to be alone.

  Yeah, he’d gone to look at her truck. But only to get her to leave.

  And that truck of hers . . . he clenched his hands into fists. She had no business driving it around. How such a tiny thing could even see over the dashboard, he had no idea. Although he guessed that the two pillows stacked on the driver’s seat were to raise her up. What if the pillows slipped while she was driving and she couldn’t see? What if she stepped on that hole in the footwell of her truck and fell through it? What if the truck broke down on a road in the dark?

  She had no damn right to be driving around in that death trap. What if she hurt someone else? He’d bet that had never occurred to her.

  He watched out the window as a red truck pulled into the driveway that led to her small cabin. A guy wearing a beanie got out. Lucie threw herself at him and he hugged her, kissing the top of her head. She was wearing another ridiculous headband. This one had a unicorn horn on the top of it.

  Boyfriend? If so, why the hell was he letting his girl drive around in that rust bucket?

  If she were his, he wouldn’t allow it. He’d insist on something safer, or better yet, drive her anywhere she needed to go. And if she still drove it, then she’d be needing those pillows to sit on for an entirely different reason.

  Atticus let out a deep breath, easing the tension in his shoulders as Lucie jumped up and down in excitement, her truck letting out a puff of black smoke from the exhaust.

  Christ.

  Yeah, he’d known it could have been a dead battery. And sure, he could have used his jumper cables to give the battery a shock to life.

  But he didn’t want to be responsible for her driving that truck and possibly hurting herself or someone else.

  What he wanted to do was storm over there and talk some sense into her.

  Or spank some into her.

  Why her? She talked too much. She kept bringing him food she’d baked. She was interrupting the solitude he wanted.

  Or thought he did.

  She was nothing like Gemma. She was too young, too flighty, too happy.

  Yet, the idea of her getting hurt didn’t sit right with him. It had to be because she was his neighbor. That was all. He felt some sort of weird responsibility towards her.

  Well, he needed to stop.

  After the red truck left, followed by her rust bucket, he stepped outside. No, he hadn’t been hiding. He just couldn’t be bothered with her trying to engage him in a conversation. He had shit to do.

  As he walked out onto the porch, he nearly tripped on a white fluff ball, which meowed up at him grumpily. He scowled down at the cat, who he swore scowled right back at him before prancing into his house.

  “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” he called after the cat. “You can’t go in there.”

  He stomped into the house and looked around, trying to search for the feline. Where the hell was it?

  Then he found it clawing at his bedspread.

  “Get off there.”

  When he reached for it, the cat danced away, moving under the bed.

  Hell. Fine. Whatever. He’d chase it out later. He was guessing the damn thing belonged to his chatty neighbor.

  He wasn’t sure he bought her explanation about her phone and internet being down. Maybe she was just starved for attention and had made that up as an excuse to come over. Like how she kept leaving him food. So far, it had been snickerdoodles, banana bread, and now chocolate chip cookies.

  Made sense. He couldn’t understand why she would live all the way out here. She seemed like she would prefer to live around people.

  None of your business.

  Pushing her from his mind, he got on with his chores.

  Lucie was exhausted by the time she pulled back up to her cabin.

  After dropping off the jewelry she’d made to Steph, she’d taken the chocolate chip cookies to her friend Jess, who was running the baking table at the school fair tomorrow. Lucie had somehow gotten roped into helping Jess bake and decorate several dozen cupcakes. Then she’d stopped by to help another friend who was moving house.

  Now it was close to six, getting dark, and her back, shoulders, and arms were killing her.

  She really needed to look at some weight training.

  Stumbling out of Queenie, she patted the old truck and grabbed a bag of groceries from the backseat. Steph had sold some of her pieces, giving her enough money to pay her bills and get a few groceries.

  Winning.

  She’d just gotten into the house, shivering because she had the heat turned off to save money, when there was a forceful knock on the door. It was so heavy that the poor door rattled from the force of it. She hurried over and opened the door.

  “Why don’t you have a security light?”

  She blinked at the grouchy question that greeted her. Then her eyes widened as an equally cranky meow came from the cat held under her neighbor’s arm.

  “Princess Pickles! What are you doing?” She reached for the enormous cat, nearly collapsing under her weight. The cat wriggled until she set it down, then it pranced off to her food bowl.

  “Well?” her neighbor demanded.

  She really wished she knew his name.

  “What? Oh, the security light? Um, I have one. I guess maybe the bulb is blown or something.”

  “Replace it.”

  The urge to salute him was so strong that she clasped her hands together to stop herself.

  “Thanks for bringing over Princess Pickles. Where was she?” she asked.

  “At my house. She came inside and hid under my bed.”

  Whoops. He didn’t sound too pleased about that.

  “You should keep her inside. She could get lost or attacked.”

  “Yes, I know,” Lucie agreed. “She’s normally always inside. She must have snuck out.”

  Sneaky kitty.

  As if she knew they were talking about her, Princess Pickles turned and meowed at them grouchily.

  “I’m sorry she made herself at home in your cabin. Charlotte, who lived there before you, used to look after her for me if I was away. Princess Pickles probably sees it as her second home.”

  He just grunted.

  “I’ll have to make you a cake for letting me use your phone and to apologize for Princess Pickles. What’s your favorite flavor?”

  “I don’t like cake.”

  He didn’t like cake? Who didn’t like cake?

  Serial killers and psychopaths, that’s who.

  “Um, right,” she said, feeling disheartened. She was so exhausted, she was practically swaying on her feet.

  His gaze narrowed, and he looked around. “Why is it so cold in here? Can’t you light your fire?”

  “I can light my fire,” she said, feeling indignant. “I just got home.”

  He grunted, then turned away. She held in a sigh. At the edge of the porch, he glanced over his shoulder at her. “Lock the door behind me. Replace that lightbulb. Keep the cat inside.”

  Then he was gone.

  “Sir, yes, sir,” she muttered before glancing down at Princess Pickles, who weaved between her feet. “And I still don’t know his name! What shall we call him? I know, what about Sir Grouch-a-lot? That’s a perfect name. Come on, Princess Pickles, I’ve got to get up early in the morning for the school fair.” Somehow, she’d gotten talked into manning one of the booths. Not that she minded.

  It would keep her busy and her mind off her bossy neighbor.

  2

  “Atticus!”

  The banging at his door, accompanied by the deep voice yelling his name, had him stomping towards the door.

  “What?” He glared at the man standing on the other side.

  Samuel Rock just smiled back at him. “Come on, get ready. Let’s go.”

  “Go where?” he asked suspiciously. He’d known the other man since college, and they’d stayed in touch over the years. Rocky, as he was known to all his friends, was the reason Atticus had moved here.

  “There’s a fair in town today to fundraise for the local high school.”

  “And?”

  “You’re coming with me.”

  “Yeah, that’s not happening.” What the fuck did Rocky take him for?

  “Come on, man,” Rocky cajoled, stepping into the cabin. Atticus frowned. He wasn’t fond of having people in his space. “Everyone will be there. Including your neighbor. Have you met Lucie yet? She’s probably been there since early this morning helping.”

  He didn’t like the easy way Rocky spoke about his neighbor. How well did he know her?

  “Why would she be there helping? She barely looks like she’s out of high school.”

  “Lucie isn’t that young. She’s nearly thirty, I think. And she always helps out. I’m sure she’s made plenty of her famous chocolate chip cookies. I don’t want to miss out on them, so let’s go.”

  Atticus shook his head. “Here. I have some chocolate chip cookies she made. Take ‘em.” Turning, he grabbed the cookies she’d given him earlier. “Just return her plate.”

  “Yes!” Sam stared at the cookies like they were gold. Then he glanced back up at him. “Atticus, if you want to be part of the community, then you’ve got to leave the house sometimes. Gemma wouldn’t want you to turn into some grumpy old hermit.”

  That’s precisely what he planned on becoming. And he didn’t appreciate Rocky telling him what Gemma would want. His scowl deepened. He opened his mouth to refuse.

  “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.

 

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