Page 19 of Fragments of the Past

Even though I shouldn’t, I place my hand on her waist. Rae Lee looks down at her skirt where I’m touching her. The streetlamp makes her blush appear deeper.

“I’d invite you upstairs, but I think we both know where that leads.” Her lip catches between her teeth.

“I’m not offended.” I still can’t sit on my couch without thinking of Rae Lee. I have new callouses to prove it. Being a gentleman aggravates my dick. However, I understand no means no. “You didn’t answer my original question, though.”

“Which one, detective? You’ve asked quite a few.” She takes a calming breath to hide her amusement, oozing confidence.

“I thought we agreed on Anson.” I toss my shoulders back at her cheeky remark. “It was ‘Do you date?’”

Rae Lee asked me. So it’s fair game.

“People don’t understand what it’s like to be me. I got tired of explaining the unexplainable, pretending I was—I don’t know, normal? Healthy? Not a complete head case? Softening my rough edges to make anyone else comfortable is irritating. So no, I don’t date anymore.”

Rae Lee’s reasoning makes perfect sense. I’ve never appreciated when anyone I was dating pressed me for details on an active investigation. I had a retort ready in case Rae Lee was curious about which leads she provided panned out. Except she never asked, simply accepted there were certain aspects of my job I couldn’t discuss. And her easy acceptance of that fact was a relief I haven’t felt in ages.

I wasn’t up to the task of a full-fledged relationship until I met Angeline. My partner got me. Before I knew it, Grant was all that remained of the woman I loved. So I pivoted, focusing my attention on him.

“What if someone asked you out who understood?”

“Are you that someone, Anson?” Her brow raises. “Or are you looking for an invitation to my bed tonight?”

Maybe it’s neither. But uncertainty has me wondering if maybe it’s both. What I do know is, “I want to see you again, Rae Lee.” I dip my mouth, tentatively brushing my lips to hers. She doesn’t hesitate kissing me back. I lean my forehead to hers and grip her neck, threading my fingers through her blonde hair. “I’ve held off on saying good night because walking away from you feels like I could be walking away from something important.”

She reaches up. Her thumb caresses my five o’clock shadow. “Going upstairs might be a bad start to a relationship, and having sex with me now that you know who I am is unprofessional.”

Rae Lee turns, unlocking her door. I step off of the porch, intending on telling her to sleep well. I direct my attention to the grass, attempting to compartmentalize any emotion. I have her number. If I want to pursue Rae Lee, I’m not against using the case updates as a reason to contact her.

“Anson?” One hand on the knob, she looks over her shoulder, calling my name. “Are you coming?”

Rae Lee doesn’t have to ask me twice. I press my palm to her back ascending the stairs and walking down a short hallway.

“This is really you,” I say as we enter her apartment.

It’s small—about the size of my living room and kitchen—an eclectic mix of old meets new, similar to the woman herself. Pipe shelving spans the interior wall, holding everything from her hanging wardrobe and folded sweaters and jeans to plastic drawers of her jewelry-making supplies. In between she’s placed framed snapshots, her laptop, a digital camera, and other weird things single guys don’t decorate with because we haven’t been taught to. One area nearest the door is set up as a backdrop, presumably to photograph items she sells online. Seeing her space is like cracking a case. All of the pieces come together. My initial underestimation of Rae Lee was foolish.

The only furniture she has is a large round table with two chairs, a uniquely painted dresser, and a queen-size bed. The covers are indented, making me think back to her comment about how she naps a lot.

“Shoes by the door.” Rae Lee flicks off her sandals, relieving me of any guilt I feel for keeping her awake.

I toe mine off. It’s another thing about her that seems right, and Rae Lee isn’t acting as if she wants me to leave.

Our fingers entwine. She leads me around the table, towards the bed. I take slow, measured steps.

“So you have your handcuffs with you, right?” she asks, working the side zipper on her skirt. Thewhooshit makes dropping to her feet mirrors my breath leaving my lungs.

“What!” I’m caught off guard by the woman standing before me, barefoot in only a tee and panties.

“I’m kidding.” She giggles, placing her hand on my chest. “This time.” She winks.

I grab hold of her wrist. My jaw hangs lower than it should.

“If you’re not into… I mean, you can… Go. If you want. I just. You… It was a joke. You seemed tense.” Rae becomes as squeamish as I was outside. Her skirt covering the floor is suddenly interesting.

“I don’t want to leave,” I say, tipping her chin towards me. “I hadn’t planned on this. I didn’t bring protection and…” I wipe my face. There’s no polite way of saying no matter if Rae is on birth control or not, we’re using a condom. “I’m a stickler about it.”

“I’ve gotitcovered.” She lets go, padding to the dresser and plucking foil square from the top dresser drawer. She hands it to me between her index and middle finger.

“Rae Lee, I think you’re perfect.” I take it and toss it onto the bed.

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