Page 27 of Studfinder

“Done what?”

“Slept with Aunt Lisa.”

I huff. “Yeah, I don’t really think he would either, but you never know what attracts people. Sometimes things happen, or we just choose someone for a night without explanation.” My thoughts leap back to Rita and images of her underneath me. We took it slow, and that made all the difference. I didn’t want to rush through my first encounter after seven years, even if I knew it wouldn’t last more than a few seconds. What surprised me most was my ability to immediately recover and start again without even leaving the warmth of her body. Rita was a wonder. I couldn’t explain why I was so attracted to her. I just was.

Like Rory, I could gush about how pretty I thought she was or how kind, but those were only on the surface. What I saw the other night was a vulnerable woman, and that attracted me even more to her. I wanted to know her secrets. I wanted her sob stories.

“I guess I wouldn’t know for certain, but I don’t think Dad’s been with anyone since the accident.”

I snort, uncertain myself as my brother never mentions anyone, even though he’s always talking about sex. Then again, men who brag or fixate the most on sex are usually not the ones getting it.

I don’t have a response to my nephew’s comment. If Nolan slept with Lisa, I’d have no way of knowing, and I honestly didn’t care. Not any longer. Lisa was out of my life by her choice, not mine. My choices had all been stripped from me.

“We’re good, aren’t we Uncle Jake?” Rory pauses, bringing us full circle. “I don’t want you to hate me.”

I stop in my tracks and face my nephew. “I could never hate you, kid.” Reaching out for him, I awkwardly pull him into me, finding his larger frame and taller stature less manageable to embrace than when he was a skinny teenage kid. Still, I hold on to him, patting his back as tears prickle my eyes. It’d be easy to blame a bunch of kids for the fire, but my heart felt it wasn’t their fault. Even though I had no proof, I just didn’t believe they had caused that blaze, accident or not.

“I love you, little man,” I say to him, finding the words strange as I haven’t said that phrase in years to anyone, and calling him the endearment from his childhood felt wrong. He certainly wasn’t little anymore.

“Love you, too, Uncle Jake. And I’m so glad you’re home.”

Rory pulls back from my embrace and offers me a slight smile, matching his father once again.

“Me, too, kid,” I state, wishing I could mean it a little more.

12

Rita

I felt sick about leaving Jake the other morning, but I could not rouse him in the early hours. He was wrapped around me so tightly I’m surprised I was able to climb out from under him. When I could not disturb him enough to wake him, I covered him and left. Not only am I riddled by how things went the morning after, but I can’t seem to stop thinking about what we did the night before that morning. Staring into the abyss over scattered papers and my open laptop, I sit at my desk with my feet on the corner and my head in the fog.

“Rita, I’ve been calling your name for five minutes.”

Blinking up at my law partner, I slowly sit straighter in my seat, kicking my hiking boot-covered feet off my desk. “Oh, sorry. What do you need, chickie?” I like May Shipley. With dark hair, a tall stature, and long legs, she could have been a model, but I’m happy she uses her brains over her beauty. From the moment we met, I knew she’d be a good fit for me. She went to my alma mater for both undergrad and law school. She was a recovering alcoholic, and she understood my sense of humor.

“I have some questions about this case, but you seem distracted today. Is everything okay?”

Tipping back in my seat, I allow it to bounce on the springs. “I’m just all over the place lately.” I glance up at my laptop, open to a case report I’ve never had the heart to read. I didn’t need the details.

Ian was gone. That’s all I needed to know.

“Is there something I can help you with?” May asks from across our shared office. As a recovering alcoholic, May knows the slightest deed or subtle hint can trigger old desires. I like to think I have my shit under control, but there’s no doubt Jake Drummond could drive me to drink if I so desired to return to that road, which I do not.

“Man trouble.”

May’s mouth falls open while her eyelids rapidly blink. She doesn’t speak for an entire minute.

“I didn’t know you were dating someone.”

“I’m not.” I don’t know what I’m doing with Jake. I certainly understand the particulars of what we did the other night, but I still had questions. Was it a one-night stand? Did what we did mean something to him? And why now? Why him? After all this time of skirting dates and turning away interested parties, why was Jake the one under my skin and over my body?

A rush of warmth travels down my spine and settles uncomfortably between my thighs. I cannot stop thinking of him. How he took his time. How he watched every move he made. How he kissed me afterward.

“You didn’t knit him a sweater, did you?” May teases me, reminding me of when she gave a hand-knit sweater to her beau Alec Rossi before he was officially hers. I told her about the sweater curse.

If you knit a man a sweater, you’ll break up or something like that.

“No, ma’am. I certainly did not.” I gave Jake Drummond something else. I’m not a virgin—heavens no—but I have not had sex since that disastrous night six years ago when I thought I was ready after losing Ian. When I drank too much and woke alone on my hallway floor, certain I’d been with a man who came home with me but had disappeared during the night. That poor decision scared the drink right out of me. How could I do that to myself? That morning, I accepted I wasn’t ready to move on from Ian and I needed other coping mechanisms rather than those gin and tonics that filled my nights. I sought grief counseling and Alcoholics Anonymous. I had trouble accepting my weakness, but I’d nearly lost my business because of it. I definitely had lost faith in myself and my judgment.