Reckless Hearts

Reckless Hearts (closed)


As the engine of his two seater rumbled to a stop in front of the small yellow house, Atticus pushed himself up out of the seat, and settled atop the collapsed canvas top. He slipped a pack of cigarettes from the front pocket of his unbuttoned, short sleeved shirt and tapped it until one of the Winston's poked through the hole in the foil. He lifted the cigarette to his lips, then slipped the red and white pack back into his pocket. The lighter he produced from his pant pocket was silver, with the image of a pair of dice engraved on one side, a snake on the other.

After lighting the cigarette and slipping the lighter back into his pocket, Atticus finally turned his attention to his new home. The two story house was just the way he'd remembered it from his childhood, a porch big enough for a small table a some chairs, big windows that covered the front of the house, both upstairs and down, an unattached garage painted the same yellow and white as the house, and relatively sparse landscaping. Not that he'd spent a lot of time at his grandmother's house as a child. A week each summer from age four to age ten. After that his parent's stopped sending him. After he hit ten he was too wild for his grandmother, and his parents knew it.

Now it was his. His grandmother had died seven years ago and the house had passed to Atticus' father. He'd been surprised to find out that his father not only still owned the house but that he'd actually left it to Atticus in his will. That had been a year ago that the lawyer had tracked him down in New York and read him the will. For a year Atticus had just sat on the property, unsure what he wanted to do with it. A month ago, things had changed. Now he needed a place to stay, a place far from New York and New Jersey and people he'd worked for.

Tossing his cigarette butt down onto the gravel drive, Atticus swung his legs over the side of the convertible and hopped down. He was tall and lanky, but muscular and when he moved the effect was that of a predator, cool and casual, but deadly. Circling around to the back of the car, he popped the trunk and pulled out two suitcases. As he moved up the sidewalk toward the front of the house the breeze lapped at his open shirt and ruffled his blond hair.

"Home sweet home," he murmured to himself as he stepped into the shade of the porch. It's not New York, but I guess I can get used to this, he thought to himself as he fished his keys out of his pocket, both suitcases gripped in a single hand for the moment. The keys snagged on the lining of his pocket and fell to the wooden porch. Sitting the suitcases down, Atticus reached down and retrieved his keys. As he stood he glanced at the house next door and realized that someone was watching him from the porch.

"I guess I could get used to this," he said as he nodded and smiled at the attractive woman next door.

Melissa: http://40.media.tumblr.com/94201bee7f462b085c348d9d49792631/tumblr_nr4pansv8V1rqg994o1_250.jpg

Brooke: http://r.fod4.com/c=sq/s=w1000,pd1/...siRhmm405cz7CPX_charlize-theron-head-shot.jpg

Summer had started out uneventful and boring. The first summer after high school and Melissa didn't have a care in the world outside of getting a tan and working her part time job at a local diner. The blue bikini that she was currently wearing had been the uniform of her summer so far. Her mom worked days at the bank and evenings at the gas station to make ends meet for the both of them. Her dad had bounced out of their lives when she was 8, leaving the both of them to fend for themselves. Her mom had worked two jobs for as long as she could remember, struggling to support a young daughter and keep a roof over their heads.

Melissa lifted her head from the deck chair as she heard the rumble of an engine turn down the sleepy street. A man that she had never seen before was in the driver's seat of a two seater, blonde hair and incredibly handsome. She slipped the sunglasses she was wearing down her nose to get a better look, her brown eyes watching him intently.

She barely remembered the elderly woman that use to live in the little yellow house next door. She had been gone a long time. Melissa remembered her bringing over cookies nearly weekly after her dad had left, but that only last a while before she got ill. A time or two, her mom had gone over to visit, bringing homemade soup or bread, but when she died Melissa never really thought about her again.

The man was soon out of the car, throwing a cigarette on the ground before he retrieved two suitcases from the trunk and started towards the house. He paused when he noticed her, nodding with a slight smile on his face that made her stomach jolt in the most unsettling way. She couldn't really bring herself to respond, instead pushing the glasses back up into place. It was rude, but something struck a nerve when he flashed her that smile.

"Missy, go get cleaned up and get us some dinner from town. Anything but pizza." A voice from the behind the screen door called, Melissa's mother soon exiting the house to look at her daughter. "Someone's moving in next door?"

"Guess so. Just one guy. He's good looking." Melissa said as Brooke paused and glanced towards the yellow house. "I'll get us some Chinese. Be back in a bit."

Brooke nodded, kissing Melissa's cheek as her daughter went inside to get dressed. A new neighbor. Brooke had always thought the little house had been abandoned. It was still well kept, the lawns mowed every summer, but no one had lived in it in a very long time.

As he let his gaze linger on his new neighbor for a moment, Atticus realized that she was younger than he'd first thought, seventeen, maybe eighteen with blonde hair and perfect teeth, sunglasses covering her eyes. She disappeared through the screen door of her house and Atticus did the same, pushing the door open with one foot as he grabbed his suitcases and carried them inside.

The natural light through the large windows revealed an open room with worn hardwood floors and a stone fireplace. He dropped his bags on the floor and took in the sight of his grandmother's house. His house now. It seemed smaller than he remembered, small and empty, the only visible furniture a small circular table in the dining room. He walked deliberately through the living room and into the kitchen where he remembered his grandmother spending most of her time. Atticus' father had purchased all new appliances for his grandmother the year before she passed and they still filled the kitchen, looking nearly brand new.

The floors needed to be fixed, and the frame on the back door was in need of repair but otherwise the downstairs appeared to be in good shape. He'd need some furniture of course, but first things first, Atticus told himself. He needed food for the kitchen, and cigarettes and coffee. After taking his suitcases upstairs and placing them in the master bedroom, Atticus decided it was time for a trip into town for some groceries.

As he stepped out onto the porch and started down toward his car, he lit another cigarette, his last one and took a moment to enjoy a long drag before opening the car door, his eyes catching movement again from the house next door.

Melissa was out the door nearly as soon as she had entered, a yellow dress on as she clasped the wrinkled bills she had retrieved from her mom in her hands. She paused only briefly to stare at the new neighbor again before she slipped into the front seat of her beat up Honda and pulled out of the drive.

Brooke soon followed, pausing when she saw the man standing in the drive way of the little yellow house. It had been a long time since she had had a neighbor living next door and never one as handsome as him. Her palms sweated slightly, a nervous habit that had her sliding her hands across the denim of her jeans. She was still in the collared shirt that she wore when she worked at the station, only having gotten home an hour earlier.

"Hi." She called, stepping down from the porch to greet the man. "I'm Brooke. You must be new around here. I didn't think anyone would move into this place since Mrs. Peters passed away. It's been empty for so long."

She was rambling, her heart pounding a little in her chest. He was handsome and she had been alone for so long. It was only natural, right?

"I think you saw my daughter, Melissa. She's a pretty quiet kid. No wild parties over this way, I can assure you."

Atticus watched the cloud of dust that trailed behind the Honda as it sped down the dirt lane toward the main road, only turning away when he heard the neighbor's screen door bang against the frame again. A taller blonde had emerged from the house and was walking down the steps towards him, dressed in jeans and a work shirt.

"Hi. I'm Brooke. You must be new around here. I didn't think anyone would move into this place since Mrs. Peters passed away. It's been empty for so long," she called out as she crossed over the gravel driveway. It was easy to see where the daughter got her good looks, Atticus thought as he took another drag from his cigarette, the smoke wafting upward past his eye.

"I think you saw my daughter, Melissa. She's a pretty quiet kid. No wild parties over this way, I can assure you," Brooke continued as she came to a stop a few feet in front of him. She seemed a bit nervous, and Atticus let her swing in the wind for a second as he took another drag, his eyes taking in her long legs, and narrow hips, the slight swell of her breasts beneath the loose fitting shirt, the soft curls of her hair, and those eyes. She had fantastic eyes, even if she seemed hesitant to look him directly in the eyes.

"Pleasure to meet ya, Brooke. Name's Atticus," he finally said, holding the cigarette down by his hip as his lip curled into a smile. "You work at the filling station in town?" he asked, nodding his head slightly towards her shirt.

Atticus. An old fashioned name, Brooke thought as he gave her a lazy grin. He seemed so calm and collected as he puffed on that cigarette, the smoke lazily rising between them to create a slightly cloudy haze. When he mentioned the station, she glanced down at her shirt. It had the station logo on it. Unlike the teenagers who worked with her, Brooke liked wearing the collared polo rather than a t-shirt. She might have been scraping by to support Melissa but she still had enough pride to want to look good while doing it.

"Yeah. Most evenings I'm down there." She said with a slight shrug of her slender shoulders. "And days as a teller at the bank. It's been that way for almost ten years now."

She glanced back at Atticus, her eyes meeting his for a moment before she glanced away towards the yellow house. "It's always been a good house. You'll enjoy it. A few years ago a fellow came in and replaced nearly every appliance in the place. He disappeared before too long."

Atticus allowed his gaze to linger on his new neighbor for a few seconds before he followed her lead and turned to look at his grandmother's house, "Yep, I noticed the new appliances. House's got good bones," he said, remembering how his grandmother used to say that all the time. Good bones.

"I think this is just what I need right now," he added, somewhat cryptically as he turned back towards Brooke. "That and some food. Didn't think to stop on the way through town, so now I got nothing."

"Listen, I'm gonna run into town and pick up some things. I wouldn't complain if you wanted to show me the way," he suggested, patting the door of the convertible. "I could have you back in no time. Whaddya say, neighbor?"

"Missy just went to get some Chinese. I could have her pick up something extra." Brooke offered. "She's 18 and can eat me out of house and home. She usually gets too much anyway."

Brooke looked towards the convertible and then at Atticus. Briefly she wondered why a guy like him would want anything to do with a girl like her. Then she remembered that they had just met, two people getting to know one another. It would be the neighborly thing to do...right?

"I can show you where the grocery store is. Not much else going on in town unless you're into the bar scene or tourist traps." She said as she made her way to the passenger seat. "And you certainly don't look like a guy who is into antiques."

"Oh, I might surprise you. Some things get better with age, right?" Atticus said with a smile as he patted the hood of the classic car before following the leggy blonde around to the passenger side.

"The door sticks sometimes," he explained as he moved to stand just behind her, before placing his hands on her hips from behind and gently lifting her up into the air until she could get her feet over the side of the car, then slowly letting her ease down into the seat.

After circling around the back of the car, out of her line of sight, Atticus emerged a moment later, opening the driver side door and settling in next to her. "Ready?" he asked as he turned the key and let the car rumble to life. He didn't wait for an answer before turning it around in the gravel drive and heading towards the main road.

"You wanna smoke?" he asked, holding his pack of Marlboros out toward Brooke with one hand, his other hand resting lazily on the top of the steering wheel as they drove.

"My ex liked old cars that were fast." Brooke commented, laughing softly as Atticus smiled and patted the hood of his car. "I think he loved them more than me, actually."

Brooke let out a loud gasp as Atticus suddenly wrapped his hands around her hips and lifted her up. She had no idea that he was so strong. Well, his arms were nicely defined, but not enough to pick her up like he was doing. Once her feet were clear of the side of the car, she moved them into the seat and glanced up at him as he eased her down.

"I guess." She said in a completely confused tone as he turned the key and pulled away from the house without a hesitation.

Brooke reached for the seatbelt, pulling it on as he held out the pack of smokes to her with one hand. She glanced down at the cigarettes and then back at him. He didn't seem bothered at all that the two of them had just met...nor that she was a single mother with an 18 year old daughter.

"I haven't smoked since Melissa was born." That statement didn't stop her from pulling one free from the pack and looking towards him for a light. "Once in a while won't hurt anyone, right?"

Atticus smiled at Brooke's comment, but didn't respond, his eyes focused on the narrow country lane. She seemed nervous around him, which considering he was a stranger she'd literally just met, was probably not unexpected. If anything the fact that she'd so readily agreed to get into his car and go for a drive was the most unexpected thing. Just another sign that things were different outside the cities where Atticus had spent the last several years.

The countryside raced past them in greens and browns, dotted by the occasional barn or farm house, fences keeping cows and horses in, waves of cornfields covering flat patches of ground, and rolling hills between. Atticus allowed himself to breath in the country air and relax, the wind streaming across the skin of his shoulders and arms, comfortable in the calm silence.

Soon the farms and trees turned to parking lots and houses and storefronts as they reached the outskirts of town. After passing the first of the towns only two streetlights, Atticus caught sight of the car that Brooke's daughter had driven into town moments ahead of them, parked in front of a small white building with a wooden sign reading "China Market" over the entrance. They continued on another 2 blocks before he pulled into the parking lot of the Shop N Go.

Atticus exited the car and circled around to the passenger side where he offered his hand to Brooke so that she could climb over the door. "So, how long have you and your girl lived here?" he asked as he smiled down at the attractive blonde.

"I was born here." Brooke told him as he took her hand and helped her out of the car.

She tried to be as graceful as possible, but she was sure that she was about to make a fool of herself. Standing there as Atticus stared down at her, she felt her palms sweat. Had it really been so long since she had been with a man that she turned into a bashful teenager? Brooke had always thought that she was strong an independent, but this handsome man was making her rethink everything that she had thought was true.

"I moved away for college, met my ex, got married far too young and had Missy. We moved back here when I graduated and he left before she turned 8. We moved into the house next to you because it was one of the only places I could afford. It was in the country, seemed safe, and Missy seemed to like it." Brooke said, shrugging as she answered his question and stamped out her cigarette on the ground.

"What brings you back to town?" The question tumbled forth as Brooke glanced at Atticus. "We don't get many people that move to town on a whim."

Unlike Brooke who had tossed her cigarette to the ground the moment she exited the car, Atticus waited, taking another long drag from his, waited until they reached the door to the small grocery before he flicked it toward a trash can by the door that had an ash try on top. The cigarette bounced off the silver lid and fell to the ground, joining several other butts that had been discarded there.

"The house belonged to my grandmother," he finally revealed as he held the door partially open for the leggy blonde, letting her slip past him, but at the same time forcing her to brush lightly against him to get past.

"My father inherited it from her when she passed but didn't know what he wanted to do with it," he added as he picked up a small basket at the entrance. "He still didn't know when he passed, so now it's up to me."

As they strolled into the store, side by side, Atticus began to place items into the basket he held, occasionally pausing to read a label or choose from the options on the shelves, "I thought I could use a break from things in the city, maybe come stay here awhile til I decide what's next."

Brooke slipped past Atticus as he held the door open for her. She noticed the way that her body brushed against his, even if it was brief. He was handsome and she was sure that if she were younger and less experienced at life she would have been all over him. Instead, she calmed herself, glancing his direction as he continued to tell her the story of why he was there in town.

"What city?" She asked him as she followed him down the aisles, taking note of the things that he was placing in his basket.

She could have bought a loaf of bread and some milk herself, but she seemed rooted at his side. The want to leave him simply wasn't there. It didn't matter if it were for a few moments or an eternity. Besides, she found Atticus fascinating and wanted to know so much more about him than the fleeting details that he was offering up just then.

"You might think the country is boring. If you're anything like our other neighbors, you'll hightail it out of here in a few months. I don't think someone has lived in that house more than six months before they decide that it isn't for them." Brooke admitted.