“Hey. Do I need anything?” Rita asks as I stand outside her front door.
“Just you.” I smile, feeling both nervous and excited. I haven’t been on a date in over seven years—there was Louisa, but I didn’t count that—so, as much as I told myself this isn’t one, I don’t know what else an organized hike with a woman could be called. We’ve certainly put the cart before the horse by having sex first, and I’m looking forward to getting to know more about the woman behind the lusty eyes and sensual body. I can’t stop thinking about her against that fire pole, and I warn my own pole to simmer down. Today is about discovery, not getting dirty with Rita. If that happens, I won’t complain, but it isn’t my intention.
I drive us in my truck until I find a spot to park near the river. I haven’t been to this area for a while, and I had to look up places with walking trails for our day together. As we start out, we casually chat about the area.
“I grew up in Hampshire and never thought I’d be back here when I left for Boston.”
“Wanted the big city and brighter lights?” I tease.
“I just wanted to make a difference in the world.” Her voice softens.
“You do, with Building Buddies.”
Rita snorts. “It’s funny you should mention them as Alfred wants me to take over the directorship.”
“Really?” I ask, watching my step as we follow the trail.
“He offered it to me almost two weeks ago, but I haven’t decided.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I guess I’ve been an attorney for so long I can’t envision myself doing something else. The irony is, I’ve been feeling like I want to do something else with my life. Real estate contracts and farm disputes are fine, but I just want something . . . different.”
“And Building Buddies isn’t different?” I chuckle, noting it’s quite the opposite of pushing papers and arguing cases.
“It is, it’s just . . . I think I’m afraid of change.”
My head pops up, and I glance over at her. Rita comes across as one of the strongest women I’ve ever known. I can’t imagine her afraid of anything, least of all running something as great as Building Buddies.
“Who says you have to change anything? Maybe cut back on the law practice and increase the interest in Building Buddies. Or not. It’s your life, Rita. Find something else that claims your passion.”
Rita chuckles. “Is that what you’re going to do with the firehouse?”
I laugh. “I’m not certain the firehouse is a reality. I looked into the cost of the place, not to mention all the work it would need. I don’t think I can afford it.” I’d been saving up for a house before Lisa pulled the plug on our marriage. I still had the money in savings, but I wasn’t certain it would be enough to purchase an old fire station. Not to mention, I didn’t really know what I’d do with the place. I just wanted it. It was something . . . different.
“You mentioned your brother when we were at the firehouse. What happened to him that makes you think you can’t leave him?”
“Nolan was a volunteer fireman like I’d been, and he went into a burning building that collapsed. It clipped his lower back, essentially making him a paraplegic.”
“I’m so sorry,” Rita says, and I squint at the trail ahead of us.
“He’s been struggling for years to regain his legs. His injury is considered incomplete. I don’t understand all the details, but I’m told he was fortunate. It could have been worse.” Nolan could have lost his life, and that would have been worse than anything else. “It’s going to sound insensitive, but the injury really changed Nolan for the better. He was so reliant on me to take care of him, he didn’t do much for himself other than follow in my footsteps. When he was on his own, with only his son to aid his recovery, he really grew up. He didn’t let the chair bring him down.”
“Was he also an electrician like you?”
“He was.” I laugh, recalling how very similar our paths have been, but then I consider Rory and remember Nolan had a curveball thrown into his life. “I’ve always felt responsible for him. Our father left when we were still little. I became the man of the house at a mere eight years old, and I’ve been taking