Page 32 of Studfinder

I want to ask her what happened to him. What happened to her Ian? But I also don’t want to know. I don’t want to bring her sob story into this date, even if her thoughts skip to him at the moment.

Stepping up to Rita, I grab her hand and tug her forward.

“What the heck?” she hollers as I pull her along, forcing her to run with me up the short incline and under the covering of the bridge. Once the shadow of the wooden structure covers us, I spin to face her.

“Holy cow, handsome. You nearly pulled my arm from its socket.” Rita laughs, but her laughter is quickly captured by my mouth on hers. Our lips connect as I cup her nape and tug her to me, swallowing down the last dregs of her chuckle. She molds against me, and I walk her backward until her back connects with the inside of the bridge wall. Continuing to kiss her, I angle her head just so. So I can deepen the kiss. So I can invade her mouth with my tongue. So I can give her the romance she deserves under a covered bridge.

We kiss with heavy groans and hitching moans. My body grinds against hers. With one leg between her thighs, I rock my hip, pressing my hard length against her soft center. My hand reaches for a breast, kneading the firm swell, pinching the nipple peaked through her shirt. We’re frantic for each other, making out like two kids stealing a moment. Only, I want all her moments.

I need to touch her skin and wonder briefly if I’ll ever take Rita in a bed. My hand tucks under her shirt, finding her side warm from our exertion and the afternoon sunshine. Traveling north on her body, I almost connect my fingers with the silky fabric of her bra when a truck horn interrupts us. We break apart, and I look up as a pickup enters the bridge.

“Go get her, son,” the driver calls out. If we don’t get out from under the narrow confines of the bridge, he isn’t going to be able to pass us.

With laughter on our lips, I drag Rita back out from under the bridge and down the slope again. The truck honks once more after exiting the wood structure, and Rita tucks her head into my shoulder.

“That was embarrassing.” She rolls her forehead on my collarbone.

“Damn, I was hoping for romantic.”

Her head pops, and blue eyes meet mine. “Oh. Oh, it was that, too.” A slow smile curls her swollen lips, and I take them once more before deciding we better cool down or I’ll do something even more embarrassing like take her along this path. Although I’m not thoroughly opposed to the idea, I don’t want any passersby to see Rita in all her glory. I’m reserving that for only me.

“How do you feel about fishing?” I finally ask, pulling back with a final tug of her bottom lip before ending the kiss.

“Is that a euphemism for playing with your pole?”

“If it is, I like your thoughts, but I was thinking of actually fishing.”

Rita is still tucked against my chest, and her eyes sparkle up at me. “I’m in,” she states.

Slipping my arm over her shoulders, I lead us back in the direction of where I parked the truck, feeling for the first time in a long time like kissing a pretty girl under the afternoon sun might be proof of second chances.

After an afternoon of fishing, Rita invites me to dinner, and I’m grateful as I’m not ready to leave her yet. It’s nice to be outside the house I share with my brother and away from the building project. It feels like it could be any other day, although it’s not. I have Rita to share the time with me.

We end up working together in her kitchen to make a simple meal of roasted chicken and potatoes as well as steamed green beans and carrots.

“I don’t typically cook like this for myself,” she admits. “It’s too much effort for one.”

The comment reminds me Rita’s been alone for a while.

“I’d like to ask about Ian, but if you don’t want to talk about him, I understand.”

“What do you want to know?” Her eyes remain on the carrot she’s chopping.

“You were engaged, and something happened.”

“He died.” She says it so fast and sharp, the thrust of the knife through the carrot to the cutting board matches her tone.

“I’m sorry.”

Rita shrugs, not glancing up from chopping, and I slowly round the kitchen island. There have been updates to this large home which is too big for a single person. Coming up behind her, I cover her wrist with my hand.

“Stop.” Rita stills her rapid slicing, and I press my nose into the crook of her neck. “You don’t have to share if you’d rather not.”

“It’s just difficult to talk about, but I’ve actually been meaning to ask you something. I just didn’t know how to bring it up. I don’t even know if I want to discuss it.”

The ominous tone raises the hairs on the back of my neck. “Ask me anything.”

“Ian died in a fire. I was wondering if you worked on his case.”