“I said Slade,” Atticus stated, frowning. “Didn’t I?”
Carson tried to play it off. “Maybe you did.” He chuckled. “Where did y’all stay?”
“A hotel downtown. Nice place. Fancy and shit. The best part—”
Atticus was cut off by the waitress. She had shit-poor timing because she appeared at the table, setting down two glasses of ice water before pulling out her little notepad.
She clicked the pen and glanced between them. “What can I getcha?”
When Atticus looked at him, Carson nodded for him to go first.
“I’ll have two eggs and a side of hash browns. And orange juice.”
“And I’ll have the sausage and egg burrito. With coffee.”
She forced a smile. “Comin’ right up.”
“What were we talkin’ about?” Atticus asked when they were alone again.
“You were about to tell me the best part of the weekend.”
“Oh, shit. Right.” Atticus grinned. “Have you ever been to the Circuit of the Americas?”
“Once,” he admitted. “I went with … uh … yeah. Went down there to watch an F1 race.” Carson wasn’t sure he should mention that it had been one of the rare few real dates he’d gone on with Slade, so he left it at that.
“There’s this company that uses the track occasionally to let us common folk race their cars. I drove a Dodge Challenger Hellcat.” Atticus’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “I’ve never done anything like it. It was … amazing.”
“Sounds like y’all had fun.”
“That was Saturday. We had dinner after, then went to the hotel bar. Sunday was breakfast, and we spent most of the day at the shooting range. Just us. We had a good time.”
“Sounds like it,” Carson said, imitating a broken record, but he had no idea what else to say. He figured he would look like a jealous idiot if he asked whether Atticus spent much of that time with Slade.
Atticus picked up his water glass and met Carson’s gaze. “Have you ever thought about gettin’ married?”
The question caught him off guard.
Atticus huffed a laugh that rang with embarrassment. “That wasn’t a proposition. I’m just askin’. Not because I want you to—”
Carson let him off the hook. “I know what you mean, and…” He exhaled a puff of air. “I’ve considered the idea of marriage, sure. I mean, I’d like to settle down one day.” Unfortunately, Carson wasn’t sure it was even a possibility for him. His desires made it pretty much impossible for anyone to see a future with him.
“Really?” Atticus sounded surprised.
“Sure. Don’t you?”
“What? Want to settle down?” Atticus shrugged. “I honestly haven’t thought too much about it.”
“Why not?”
Atticus’s eyebrow arched. “Well, for starters, I’ve never really thought of myself as a settlin’ down sort. Until recently, I didn’t think I’d settle on one place to live.”
“How’d you end up stayin’ with Slade?” he asked before he could stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth.
If Atticus realized he was probing, he didn’t show it.
“Reese wants me to put down roots. Slade offered up his guest room since there’s nothin’ to rent nearby.”
“How’s that workin’?”
