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I studied him for signs of mockery, but there were none. “The wardrobe people let me take home clothes we’ve worn in scenes. I can’t stop. It’s a problem.”
“Not in my opinion. You look great with whatever you have on, but it must be fun to have professionals dress you. I’d love that.”
We locked eyes for a moment, and I smiled. Being understood was nice. “I love it too. And thank you.”
“Bathroom is there.” He broke our gaze to gesture toward the door. I peeked inside to see a large bathtub, spacious shower with high-end fixtures, double vanities, and premium towels and bathrobes.
“It’s like the finest hotel I’ve ever been in. I’ll feel like a queen here,” I said.
“You can stay as long as you like,” Atticus said. “It’ll give us time to catch up.”
I turned to him, taking in his rugged features, light blue eyes, thick eyebrows, and high cheekbones, with just a hint of scruff on his chin. None of which had been there when he was a skinny, nerdy boy. If he hadn’t been totally hot, I might have ached for the cute little boy he’d once been. Instead, this grown-up version of Atticus was enough to make me forget all my troubles and get lost in those eyes.
“Would you like to freshen up?” Atticus asked. “Are you hungry? Like I said, we can order lunch, or I could probably rustle us up a sandwich.”
My hands flew to my mouth. “I distracted you from your lunch. Your mother told me you usually headed over to the restaurant for your midday meal.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll make us something.”
I glanced out one of the windows. Steam rose from what appeared to be a hot tub. A soak would be heaven. I didn’t suggest it, however, as it would be way too forward. He’d already let me invade his house.
However, he must have read my mind, because he suggested we take a soak after lunch. “There’s nothing more fun than sitting in there during the cold weather. I have a robe in thecloset for you. Did you bring a swimsuit? If so, we can soak after lunch.”
I’d brought a bathing suit in case the ranch had a hot tub. This, however, would be much better. No worries of anyone trying to take my photograph at the least flattering angle and posting it all over the internet. I pushed that thought aside. Thinking about that whole incident would make me anxious, and I wanted to be present to enjoy every moment with Atticus.
“Lunch and a soak? What more could I ask for?”
“Good. I’ll let you unpack while I throw together some sandwiches,” he said. “Come on, Scout, time for lunch.”
Scout barked in agreement.
Before I could say anything further, he’d bolted out of the room with Scout on his heels.
Around three that afternoon,Atticus and I headed out to the hot tub on the patio for a soak. He’d magically rustled up a bottle of champagne and plunged it in a bucket of ice. Despite the robe and slippers on my feet, I immediately started shivering the moment we stepped outside.
Scout stared at us from the window, looking mournful.
“Poor Scout,” I said.
“She’s fine. If I let her out here, she’ll make a menace of herself and won’t leave us alone.” Atticus handed me the bucket of champagne and opened the top of the hot tub. “Get in there. I’ll pour us some of this.”
Thankfully, he turned away to pop the cork from the bottle, because I felt self-conscious stripping down to my bikini with him standing right there. My trainer and Pilates kept me fit; still, I wasn’t perfect. Depending on lighting and camera angle, it changed how I appeared, usually for the better. In real life, despite my strict diet, I was a regularperson, with dimples on my bottom and skin so white it rivaled the snow.
I shrugged out of the bathrobe and hung it over the back of the hot tub. Still shivering, I sank into the hot water. Goose pimples popped out over my legs and arms from the sudden change in temperature. I rubbed my thighs with my hands and kept my gaze averted as Atticus took off his own robe and got into the water.
However, my eyes seemed to have a mind of their own, for they traveled over to watch Atticus get into the tub. Good Lord, he was all muscle. Was that a six-pack?
“I thought you were an office guy,” I blurted out.
In the middle of pouring me a glass of champagne, he lifted his gaze, clearly amused. “Even geeks have to work out. I have a really mean trainer.”
“Whatever you’re doing, it’s working,” I mumbled, averting my eyes to look upward. “I have a mean trainer too.”
“Obviously working as well,” he said.
“I think it’s going to snow.” I’d flushed red from his compliment and now tried to divert the conversation. But it was true about the weather. Since we’d been inside for lunch, the blue sky had clouded over and now had that close white feeling that came before a snowfall.
“It’s pretty fun to sit in here when it snows.” Holding two glasses, Atticus scooted closer to hand me one.
