here. My truck is still parked in the same position as last night.
“What’s wrong?” Her gaze stays on me, and she works at keeping her face still.
What’s wrong? What’s wrong is I woke on this couch without her? “I missed my probation meeting this morning,” I blurt. Not that it explains why I’m really suddenly upset. She walked out on me, left me to potentially be caught, and now I’m scrambling to wrap my head around what happened last night.
“Jake spent the night here with a woman,” Sully adds, pouring salt into the wound, or maybe he’s fishing for Rita to admit it was her and not just some random woman.
Rita’s head turns from me to Sullivan, and I twist my neck just once—a crack snaps to adjust the kink in my neck. Her expression remains stoic, not giving away a hint. Not a blush that it was her spread under me. Not a twitch that she was the one to warm this couch with me.
“We should call your probations supervisor,” Rita states, facing me once more. “Explain the situation.”
Is she turning me in? This wasn’t a one-way street. She slept with me, too. My heart hammers in my chest. It’s too early in the morning to think straight. I’m missing out on a serious caffeine fix, and my dick has a damn mind of its own seeing Rita standing there in fitted jeans and those darn hiking boots.
Sullivan doesn’t respond, and Rita hesitates. She looks like she wants to step toward me but doesn’t—or won’t.
“I can call the officer on your behalf.” Rita’s statement is a reminder she’s my boss of sorts. She’s equally important to the completion of my parole. One slipup with her, and I’m done. Back to prison. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two-hundred dollars.
I lick my lip and bite the edge of it, wondering what Rita might say to my probation supervisor. She turns to Sullivan again and asks him to give us a minute. His head snaps up, and he glares at me once more, and if I could read his thoughts, they’d include nothing short of physical torture. He grunts before stepping around her and exiting the house. At his disappearance, I rush to Rita.
“Where did you go?”
“What are you still doing here?” Her eyes roam my body, noting my day-old clothes. She meets me halfway to her, and we’re hidden from the outside of the house by the wall between window and door.
“I fell asleep.”
“I couldn’t wake you.”
I swipe a hand through my hair.
“You sleep like the dead,” she adds, crossing her arms. The corner of her lip slowly curls before she straightens her mouth and her posture. Her arms fall to her sides. “What were you thinking?”
“Last night?”
“This morning.”
I stare at her, caught between wanting to throttle her for this conversation and kiss that sassy mouth.
“What was wrong with last night?” she asks, her voice lowering.
“Why weren’t you here this morning?” My tone softens as well. I didn’t like waking without her. “You could have left a note.”
“And what would it say?”
For some reason, that hurts. That hurts hard, like a slap to the face or a punch to the sternum. My lips twist in confusion. I’ve misread everything, I guess.
“I’ve never done this before,” Rita quietly adds, and I don’t know what she means, but I can’t keep going back and forth with her. I have larger issues at the moment by the label of probation officer.
“Would you really call my parole supervisor?” What will she say?
“I think we should and explain what happened.”
“You’re going to tell him you slept with me?” Rita’s head snaps back like I’ve slapped her, and I see I’ve misread something all over again. Her shoulders fall, and her fisted hands raise to her hips.
“No, I was thinking I’d explain the rain. Say you had truck trouble, and we approved for you to spend the night. Then I’d apologize for not informing him. Or maybe you could take some credit and say your phone was dead.”
She’s certainly good at the alibi. All plausible issues in a rainstorm and much better than admitting I lost myself in her for a night. My head turns to the rumpled drop cloth draped over the couch, and I take a minute to consider what happened last night.
We had sex on a dusty covered couch in a partially built house. Not exactly how I imagined my first time after so many years. Not exactly who I imagined I’d