my time between the office and here—handing over more cases and contracts to May—is this what I want to do next?
“I’d need to think about it,” I say, and Alfred turns his attention away from admiring the single-story home to level me with a liquid gaze.
“What is there to think about?” Once again, his question suggests an unspoken assumption that I have nothing else to do in my life. Alfred takes a deep breath. “You know, when I started this group along with your father and some friends from the church, we wanted to give back and beef up our resumes.” He softly laughs.
“Nonprofit organizations look good on resumes. It says you’re involved in your community, care about others, and take on leadership roles, but over time, this work became a passion for many of us. We loved handing over the keys to a family in need. We appreciated what we had a little more, even if we wrestled with loss.” He pats my hand still tucked into his elbow.
“You’ve always been a go-getter, Rita. Leadership is within your blood. There’s no doubt you care for others, defending what’s been wronged, dealing with what’s right.”
I snort, not certain livestock disputes or housing contracts right wrongs.
“You need this,” he states, smiling back at the house, and now, he’s lost me. I glance up at it myself. I take great pride in working for Building Buddies. This is my third official project as a supervisor, and I’ve been honored to handle each build in the area. We span two states, so I’m not involved in every construction site. That falls to the directorship position.
“At our next board meeting, I’m going to recommend you. The board will need to vote, but I have no doubt they’ll lean in my favor.”
The next board meeting is a month away.
“As I said, I’d like to think about it, but I’m honored you consider me worthy.”
Alfred pats my hand once more, but this time I feel that pat as patronizing. It implies I have nothing else going for me, so I might as well take on the position.
Alfred leans forward, and air kisses my cheek, pressing his clammy skin to the side of my face. Releasing my hand, I watch him turn back for his car and notice Jake following the movements of Alfred’s retreat. As soon as the director enters his sedan and backs out of the yard, Jake approaches me.
“Everything okay?” His hesitant tone has my brows pinching.
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
He holds a screwdriver in one hand and taps it against his other palm. “No reason, just wondering.” He peers back to the space Alfred’s car vacated and then returns his attention to me. “Did something happen?”
I shift entirely and cross my arms. My ankle wobbles again in my cursed shoes.
“What is your concern, Jake?”
“I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
My brows pinch again. “Why would I get in trouble?”
Looking directly at me, he waves the screwdriver between us. “Because you and me . . .”
“We what?” I give my head a little shake, suggesting I don’t understand and ignoring the discomfort between us.
“We . . . you know.”
The kiss. The incredible kiss that sliced me down the middle and zipped me back together in one swift movement. Kissing has been off-limits for me, but that kiss shattered all limitations. However, Jake’s cautious eyes have the fine hairs on my arms sticking upward.
“You aren’t worried about me. You’re worried about you.” I step toward him as I speak. Wobbling once more in my heels, I fight the urge to reach for him for stability. It’s hard to be tough when your shoes don’t support you. “You’re worried I told on you.”
“Told on me? What? Are we in second grade?”
“You know if I wanted to report that kiss, you might lose this position.”
Jake’s brows lift. His forehead furrows. “Would you do that? It was only a kiss, Rita.”
My mouth falls open, but I quickly shut it. Only a kiss? Only a kiss! I can’t even respond to that comment. However, I could do what he said. I could file a complaint and put Jake at risk of losing this parole situation, but I’d never do such a thing.
“You’re right. It’s just as you said,” I state through clenched teeth. Lowering my hands, I fist them at my sides. “It was only a kiss. I’ve had lots of kisses in my life. It wasn’t even a particularly good kiss. It was just . . . a