Casual rating reminder, guys.

Rick grabbed one of the towels from the pickup and wrapped it around Kate's shoulders.

She looked up at him with a grateful smile. "Thank you," she said softly.

"You're welcome."

He became distracted: her hair had mostly dried - with the exception of the end few inches that would find themselves re-submerged as she moved through the water - and was beginning to frame her face in a damp, frizzy mess. He smiled as he smoothed his hand over the fly-aways and tucked them neatly behind her ear.

"I wouldn't bother," she warned him. "It's only going to get worse."

Rick shrugged. "I like it."

She just smiled and shook her head.

When Rick moved to grab a towel for himself, Kate slid into the passenger's seat of the pickup and began riffling through the centre console and glove compartment.

"Looking for something?" Rick asked, towelling his hair until it was just as crazy as hers.

"Found it." She smiled at the dampened mess atop his head and slipped out of the vehicle holding a small first aid kit. "Just want to clean this up a little," she said in reference to the laceration on her forehead.

She pulled a small, square packet from the first aid kit and Rick took the red box from her hands. He watched as she pinched the corner of the packet and attempted to tear it open, to no avail.

"Is your wrist hurting?"

She frowned, her attention fixed to the packet in her hands. "No, it's fine. I just-" She tried to open it again, but it slipped from her fingers. "can't get a proper grip," she huffed.

Rick tossed his towel over his shoulder and leant down to grab the packet she dropped. "I got it."

When he stood upright again, he passed her the first aid kit to free up his hands. Then he ripped the packet open with ease.

"I'm very over this," Kate complained as she waved her injured wrist around. Rick laughed. "I can't do anything."

"Well, that's a lie," Rick said with a frown. Quickly, his frown turned to a smirk. "You're doing an excellent job holding that," he commented as he pointed to the first aid kit she was now hugging to her chest.

She tried not to, but the corners of her mouth began to curve.

He smiled when she did: mission accomplished.

He pulled the sterile wipe out of the packet and took a step closer to her. With his left hand, he used his knuckles to brush stray strands of hair from her forehead and hold them out of the way while he carefully cleaned her injury.

"It's only been a few days," he reminded her; his voice gentle and understanding.

"It's just frustrating."

"I know."

He slipped the wipe back into it's packaging and tossed it into the cab of the pickup. Then he took the kit from Kate and rummaged for a band-aid.

She watched him as he pulled the sterile strip and scissors from the box, then tossed the kit in with the discarded wipe. With intent focus, he unwrapped the strip and cut it down to a more reasonable size before very gently pressing it over the cut.

She couldn't help but smile; it surprised her how much she liked being taken care of by Rick. There was something in the way he cared for her that told her he didn't think she was weak or incapable or that she needed someone to make it better. He simply wanted to help; and she found herself wanting to let him.

When his hands framed her face and he leaned in slowly to press a delicate, healing kiss to her forehead her eyes fluttered shut and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Thank you."

The sun, although low in the sky, was still beaming down on them with impressive warmth: they were dry (enough) in no time. Rick took Kate's hand and helped her climb up into the back of the pickup. He followed and they settled against the marshmallow-soft cushions that sat propped up by the cabin.

"You hungry?" Kate asked him, already reaching for the picnic basket that had been packed for them.

"Yeah, what have we got?"

Kate sat the basket in front of them and opened it to reveal a charcuterie-style box. The box contained cured meats, different cheeses, olives, crackers, an assortment of fruits and some heart-shaped chocolates. Tucked behind the box was a bottle of champagne and two flutes.

Rick looked over the spread in front of him, thoroughly impressed. "Not bad for a few hours notice," he commented.

"Aggie loves this kind of thing," Kate explained. This kind of thing being catering: her friend used to dream of starting her own catering company. "When I called and asked if she could throw something together for us, she was happy to help."

Rick took the flutes and the bottle of sparkling wine, and poured them each a glass.

"To Aggie," he said, holding his glass up in a toast. "For providing the essentials for a wonderful evening."

Kate smiled. "To Aggie."

Their champagne flutes clinked together and they took a small sip.

"In about an hour the sun will set right over the clearing here." She pointed downstream, toward a patch of bright blue sky that broke through the thick tree coverage. "It's beautiful this time of year."

Rick looked at her with a smile.

She studied his eyes for a moment before tilting her head and asking, "What?" with a slightly self-conscious giggle.

"You've planned the perfect first date," he commented, sure to put extra emphasis on the date part.

Because, to him, that was exactly what this was: a very sweet, very romantic date. The first of many, he hoped.

But she shook her head. "No I didn't."

"You did!" he argued with a smile, because he had known she would deny it. "This is totally a date. It's private, romantic, you've got strawberries and champagne-"

"Okay, fine," she relented. "Maybe it's a date."

His smile grew tenfold; but he wasn't done teasing her yet.

"Kinda flies in the face of your it's just sex, nothing else is going to change idea, doesn't it?"

She scrunched up her nose and he knew she wanted to argue back, but she had no ground to stand on.

"Fine. Maybe it's just sex and the occasional date." She took a deep breath. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Oh, no, not at all," he insisted. "I just want it on the official record that you did all of this of your own accord."

Kate narrowed her eyes at him. "What's your point?"

"You want me," he stated matter-of-factly. And then he laughed. "You want me so bad."

"Oh, shut up," she laughed as she pushed him away playfully.

He pushed back, gently nudging his shoulder against hers. "It's okay. It can be our little secret."

Through the blankets, he could feel the ridges of the hard-plastic tub digging into his spine as he laid diagonally in the back of the pickup. It wasn't painful, but it wasn't exactly pleasant.

And yet, he never wanted to move from this position.

Kate used him as a pillow; her head resting on his abs as they stared up at the star-filled sky above them. His arm draped casually over her torso, fingertips delicately tracing patterns on her skin under his cotton tee while he absent-mindedly smoothed his other hand over the locks of hair splayed over his chest.

The sun had set over two hours ago and they had spent the time since just enjoying the calm and the quiet, enjoying one another's company, enjoying the bottle of champagne they knew they shouldn't finish but had come pretty close to doing so. Rick, knowing he had to get them back to the city somehow, had stopped after one glass but had continued to top up Kate's flute throughout the evening. After what he could only estimate to have been three glasses, she corked the bottle and moved it out of his reach with the comment that getting her drunk wouldn't help him 'score'.

Contrary to her words, however, she had spent the majority of the evening touching and kissing and not even trying to hide how much she wanted him.

Not that it mattered: neither one of them had been in a particularly frisky mood when they'd left his loft and, therefore, making sure they had protection on-hand wasn't exactly a priority. And they'd had the conversation already: every single time, no exceptions. They had both been tested, of course, but the subject of exclusivity was never broached.

No, that had felt too much like commitment. She wasn't ready for that and he knew it. While he knew that he was exclusively hers, and he had very strong suspicions that she wasn't entertaining anyone else at the moment, without hearing the words come directly from her mouth he knew better than to assume.

But still, desire burned through his veins. Or maybe it was the light buzz of alcohol. Or simply the romanticism of it all: the charm of this quaint little town; the afternoon of carefree fun and laughter; the magic of such reverent touches under a canopy of stars. She hadn't been hiding how much she wanted him and, if he were to be totally honest, having to keep his own urges, his own desires under control could near kill him at this point.

She rolled to her stomach, propped herself up on her elbows and smiled at him. "Penny for your thoughts?" she asked.

He slipped his hand under the cotton tee again, flattened his palm against her spine and began to slowly rubs circles on her back to buy himself a few precious seconds to gather his thoughts. Because, in this moment, there were only two things on his mind.

I want you.

Duh. That was nothing new.

And then there was the big one, the thought that had consumed him entirely since the moment it first popped into his head.

I love you.

He'd had to bite his tongue all damn day to make sure that one hadn't slipped out accidentally. Usually, he wouldn't have tried so hard. Usually, he would have let the confession happen naturally, saying the words the moment they had felt right. But the last thing he wanted to do was scare her off, not after the perfect afternoon they'd shared.

So, he voiced the first safe thought that popped into his head.

"Thank you for bringing me here," he said earnestly.

Kate smiled and he could see that she appreciated the fact that he appreciated being here.

"I love this place," she said. "I just- I wanted to share it with you."

His heart fluttered and filled with joy. This place was special to her, of that he was certain, and she wanted to share it with him. That alone told him everything he wanted to know, confirmed to him that they were making progress, that she was almost ready.

Rick leaned forward, kissed her with the passion and love that he could no longer hold back.

It seemed Kate didn't want to hold back any longer, either, and she kissed him back with equal enthusiasm. Her lips parted in invitation, an opportunity he wouldn't pass up, and his tongue danced with hers.

He shifted, desperate for more contact, for her skin against his. His fingers tangled in her hair as she rolled to her back and he hovered over her, careful not to rest too much of his weight on her. He settled between her legs, his hips pushing against hers and she moaned against his mouth. The sound alone was enough to dissipate the last iota of his self-control; paired with her heavy breaths and the gentle rock of her hips against his, he was a man on the very edge of a treacherous cliff.

His hands wandered of their own accord, an act of blatant disobedience as his mind screamed to slow down. His palm pressed to the silky-smooth skin of her thigh, smoothed up over her hip, waist and abs until his fingertips ghosted the underside of her breast, eliciting a sigh from Kate.

She shuddered when he swiped his thumb across the hardened peak of her nipple, whimpered against the firm press of his lips.

"Kate-" Her name was a strained whisper, his question remained unasked.

Yet, she answered. "It's okay," she assured him. "I'm good, if you are."

Their promise to each other - promise, rule, whatever - echoed in his mind again. Protection: every single time, no exceptions. But he was too far gone. His need for her trumped any and all logical thought.

He pressed a rough kiss to her mouth and then sought to rid her of her underwear as quickly as possible. She returned the favour, tugging at his pants until he rolled to his back and helped her slide them down his legs. She rose to her knees and moved to straddle his lap, gasping as the evidence of his arousal pushed against her core. Her hips rolled slowly and his eyes fluttered, but he forced them open: he wanted to watch her, to see her pleasure.

He looked up at her - a beautiful, moonlit silhouette against the dazzling backdrop of a hundred thousand stars - and was filled with the overwhelming need to be as close to her as possible, closer than possible. To move with her, breathe with her, be one with her. He pulled himself up, wrapped an arm around her waist and held her against him as he shuffled back to lean against the cab of the pickup.

"Is this okay?" he whispered against her neck before he closed his mouth over her fluttering pulse-point.

Her head dropped back, eyes closed and she sighed as his tongue laved at the sensitive zone. "Yes," she whispered back, breathlessly.

But she made no move to progress this; just basked in the sensation of his hands on her waist, his lips at her throat and his tongue on her skin.

"Are you su-"

She latched onto his lips, silenced his questions with her tongue against his: yes, she was sure. Her hand flitted down between them and she gently caressed him, lined him up with her and sank down onto him.

His grunt masked her gasp as he filled her and his grip on her hips tightened, holding her steady as he tried desperately to regain his composure.

"God, Kate-" His voice was gravelly; a mere whisper between breaths that sent a shiver rushing down her spine. He pressed his palm to her lower back and she arched into him, looped her arms around his neck as his touch slowly moved upward and into the curls of her hair. "How'd I get so lucky?" he whispered in her ear.

She smiled, giggled quietly to herself but good god, it was music to his ears.

And then, finally, she moved. Just a gentle rock, an expertly executed roll of her hips that made it impossible to focus on anything other than how it felt to be inside her, to hold her and taste her and love her.

He kept her steady rhythm with his own slow thrusts. Each breath, each moan, each word whispered against skin created the sweetest of melodies as they moved in near-perfect synchrony, working toward their crescendo. He felt the unmistakeable signs of her climax approaching: her measured pace faltered, her muscles stiffened as she contracted around him and she dropped her forehead to his shoulder.

He whispered her name into her hair. "I'm close," he warned.

He placed his hands on her hips, ready to pull himself from her but her thighs tightened around his waist.

"Don't stop," she breathed against his neck; so needy, pleading with him rather than her usual authoritative instruction.

But he needed to be sure.

"Look at me." He cupped her face and guided her focus to him.

It took a second for her to break through her haze, for her eyes to settle on his but when they did she read his unasked question in his eyes and she nodded. "I'm sure."

She rested her forehead against his, placed her hand over his at her cheek and laced their fingers together.

It didn't take long to build her back up again and those same telltale signs made themselves known. He felt the ghost of her lips against his, the warmth of her stuttered breath against his cheek and his chin as she lost herself in the throes of orgasm. Her pleasure pulled him over the edge and he pulled her hips down, held her against his body as he jerked and spilled into her.

They didn't move, didn't speak; just held each other as they caught their breath and calmed the beating of their hearts.

After just a few minutes, she took his hand - still cloaked in hers - and turned her head to press soft kisses to his fingertips, to his palm, to his wrist. Then, she placed it over her heart.

Over her shoulder, a shooting star caught his eye.

"Make a wish," he said and she turned to watch as the star burned across the night sky. Once it was out of sight, she turned back to him with a smile. "Did you make a wish?"

She nodded, hummed her confirmation. "Did you?"

"Of course!"

He wished this night would never end.

Pottersville lacked many of the familiarities of home: the ever-present noise of city life; the musty smell of exhaust fumes from busy streets; the constant light from buildings, street lights and traffic. The hum of nature surrounded them: frogs and crickets and the rustling of the night air through tree leaves. In the moonlight, they walked hand-in-hand from the shed toward the lone, softly glowing lamp under the carport where Rick had parked his Mercedes.

The rest of the farm was cloaked in darkness, the stillness of night.

Rick turned his head to look at Kate, who had been awfully quiet since packing up the pickup and leaving their river-side date. He watched as she stared at the ground, completely lost in thought.

"You okay?" he asked.

She looked up at him, smiled and nodded. "Just tired."

She slipped her hand from his, snaked her arm around his waist and tucked herself against his side. He draped his arm around her shoulder and held her close as they walked.

"You sure?" he pushed.

He felt the brush of her cheek against his chest as she nodded.

"Let's get you home, then."

When they reached his car, he opened the passenger door for Kate and pressed a kiss to her head before she got in. As he walked around the front of the car, he saw an envelope tucked underneath his wind-shield wiper blade. He plucked it from it's position and peeked inside, finding half a dozen photographs of two young girls. He smiled to himself: he could only assume the girls in the images were Aggie and Kate.

He got into the car and held the envelope out for Kate. "I think these are for you."

She took the gift from him and pulled the photographs out, perusing them in silence as Rick began the journey home.

Occasionally he would look over to find her smiling at one of the images and he hoped that one day - maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but one day - she would share with him the stories behind those photographs, share the memories of her childhood friend with him.

For anyone who could make Kate smile like that was someone he wanted to know.