Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Clara

Me: I might be coming up with a plan to keep Gretzky and Gordie.

I would never do such a thing, but I can't help goading Riggs. He is a blast to fuck with, and now I know why Alex does it. Riggs gets so mad, but he has his mask locked in place, and it's fun to watch it crack along the edges. He also gets this look in his eyes like he isn't sure if he's gonna strangle me or fuck me.

It's a blast.

Maybe if I push hard enough, he'll decide on the latter.

Or hell, both…he-he.

Riggs: Plan away. You'll fail.

Me: Wow, that's rude. Aren't you a coach? Aren't you supposed to uplift me?

Riggs: Only telling you the truth. And I coach men, not wee lasses with smart mouths.

Me: Are you saying I have a smart mouth?

Riggs: No, I'm talking about another Clara who is watching my dogs for me.

Me: Oh, she sounds wonderful.

Riggs: She's a pain-in-my-ass smart-mouth who is apparently trying to steal my dogs.

Me: I think she's awesome. But for real, let me have them.

Riggs: No. Train your fool of a dog.

Me: Stop calling Darcy a fool before you and I fight, good sir.

He writes something, the bubbles appearing before they disappear. That happens three times before he finally writes me back.

Riggs: Did you eat lunch?

I bring in my brows. I offered to fight so I could touch him.

Hopefully naked.

But he shot me down. He's very hot-and-cold, this guy.

Me: I did, and I shared my steak bites with the boys. They are currently lying on me as everyone else plays.

I send a photo of the boys lying on me, and of course, there is a streak at the bottom of the picture where Darcy is running like…a fool. But he's my fool, damn it.

Riggs: You're going to make them fat.

Me: Oh, for sure.

Riggs: Though I see nothing can calm down Darcy.

Me: Nope, he's a free spirit.

Riggs: Like his mother.

I beam at that, doing a little wiggle that's totally childish, but man, he makes me feel things I like. I didn't get the chance to flirt when I was a teenager. I hid a lot and kept my head down, so I know that's why I enjoy flirting so much now that I can live my life the way I want. The last guy I dated flirted all the time, but he was a dud in bed. Lots of talk but nothing to back it up. Then I had a guy who didn't want anything but sex, and boy, was he a good time, but he was so boring.

I know this is my crush talking, but I suspect that if Riggs let go, he could be the best of both worlds.

And I want him to let go.

Riggs: I have dinner in the freezer for you. Just four little meals that I thought you'd enjoy.

My lips curve up.

Me: You know you paid me, right? You don't have to make me food.

Riggs: I am well aware, and I wanted to. I want you to have what you need.

Well, catch the hint. I need you .

I giggle, not having the balls to type that. I can't ignore how my chest warms at his words, though. For such a grumpy pants, he sure is thoughtful.

Me: Thank you.

I wait for his response, but he doesn't give me one, and it only confuses me more. I lean into Gretzky and nuzzle my nose in his neck. "Your daddy is a puzzle I'm going to figure out."

Gretzky doesn't seem to care and continues snoring. I can't help but think of Elliot's warning, and I don't want to believe it. I want to think she and Alex are wrong. That Riggs would be different with me, but that's exactly what they're telling me. He won't, and that sours my good mood. I want to know what happened to him. I want to know why his marriage ended and why he is so against being with anyone. I want to know if he even wants me. Or if I am totally making all this up in my head.

Like the overanalyzing person I am, I go through every interaction I've had with Riggs as I gather up the dogs and drive everyone home. I can't make heads or tails of how I think he feels. Usually, I can read a guy pretty well. My whole life, I observed those around me, and I'm proud of my people skills, but Riggs is definitely different. Men usually think with their cocks and they either want me or don't, but Riggs isn't a young buck led by his cock. He's a man—with restraint and control.

Two things I want to destroy.

And let the glorious aftermath rain down on me.

When I arrive at his cabin that fits him perfectly, I am nowhere near figuring out an answer. I have no clue. I guess all I can do is wait it out or maybe just ask. I don't know if I have the guts to do the latter, considering if he rejects me, it'll be awkward when I watch the dogs. Since I love Gretzky and Gordie and want to help Riggs, I don't want to mess with a good thing. But what if it can be more?

I consider calling one of my sisters, but everyone has something going on. Austen is busy traveling with her Russian Stallion through Russia. Eliza is deep into Coleson's rehab for his leg in Nashville and running the coffee business back here. Louisa is planning her wedding with Ciaran, while traveling back and forth between here and Nashville for Dirty Pages. Elliot is growing my nephew and building a life with her baby daddy, while doing all the social media for the Bears. She also doesn't want me with Riggs, so I can't really talk to her about it.

It's times like this I wish I had friends outside of my sisters.

But that means I'd have to like other people.

Ew.

I roll my eyes as I park my SUV up in front of the wooden fence. I get out, collecting the dogs from the back where I have them strapped in, and then I let them run around like crazy. They bark happily and nip at one another playfully as I take in the secluded cabin that only makes me grin. It's so Riggs. All dark and mysterious, and in the middle of fucking nowhere. I bet he likes not having neighbors or having to deal with people. The house is a dark-wood log cabin with orange shutters and a bright-orange door. Like all Tennessee fans, he takes the color orange very seriously. I spy a wood-chopping spot, and I feel my lips curve. I bet he chops his own wood. All sweaty and hot. Muscles bulging and wood chips flying.

Once I have my phone out of my pocket, I take a photo and send it to him.

Me: Are you a lumberjack?

Riggs: Yes, it's my side hustle.

Me: Can I record it and sell it on OnlyFans?

Riggs: For what?

Me: Duh, thirst traps.

Riggs: No. I'm exclusive on OnlyLumberJacks.com

I snort.

Me: Send me the link.

Riggs: No can do. I can't be responsible for the damage to your innocent brain.

I snort louder at that.

Me: Oh, Coach, Sir, Man Guy, there is not a damn thing innocent about me. Want my OnlyFans?

A text bubble appears, disappears, and by the time it happens a ninth time, I'm cackling.

Me: I'm kidding.

Riggs: Thank fuck. I was nervous you were serious, and I wasn't sure how to act like I didn't know that tidbit of information about the granddaughter of my boss.

That has me pressing my lips together.

So, does he want me but not want to act on it because of my peepaw?

Interesting.

I tuck my phone into my pocket since I'm not sure how to answer that, and I call to the dogs as I head to the front door. I use my key, and the dogs barrel in, rushing to the water bowl to rehydrate. I lock the door then the dead bolt before taking off my shoes and setting my purse by the door. I carry over my dishes from this morning and wash them before finding one of the little dinners Riggs made for me. I turn on the oven then place the meal on a sheet pan to put in after my shower. I'm all hot and sticky.

The dogs are on my heels as I head back to his bedroom with my overnight bag while I try to ignore the butterflies taking flight in my gut. I'm going to sleep in his bed. Without him, but in his bed. I wonder if it smells like him?

Oh, I hope.

I shimmy in excitement. Once I hit the switch, the room floods with light, and I take in Riggs's space. It's just a bed, dresser, and an ensuite bathroom. However, the bathroom is a thing of beauty. All white marble, with a dark navy clawfoot tub and a handheld shower attachment hanging above the tub. Does my grumpy coach like baths? The tub is massive enough for two, which makes me green with envy over the women he's brought here to take a bath with him. Maybe cleaning up from a massive fuck session or being carried to a massive fuck session.

I want a massive fuck session.

I exhale as I take in the masculine space. Everything is in dark blues with light blue accents. His bed is huge, yet he doesn't let the dogs on the bed?

"Your daddy is mean," I tell Gordie, who wiggles beside me with big brown eyes full of love for me. "This bed is big enough for all of you—and me and Darcy."

He doesn't seem to agree and trots to his bed. I mean, for a dog bed, it's top-of-the-line. It's on a pedestal and looks fluffy enough for me to sleep in it. Beside it are two others, and my heart warms that Riggs got one for Darcy. Now I just gotta get Darcy to sleep in it.

I drop my bag on his dresser and notice a photo of him with two older people. His parents, I assume, since he is a younger version of the man in the photo. Though he has his mom's dark brown eyes. They're all so happy, so joyous, and I can tell he loves them. I run my finger along his face. He is much younger in this photo, no beard, and no laugh lines around his eyes.

God, he has always been devilishly handsome, though.

Why isn't he locked down with a trove of children?

I don't allow myself to feel anything about that. My feelings could shift to sadness or jealousy, and I'm way too tired for that. Instead, I look back at the bed. I close my eyes and pray it smells like him before crawling onto the pillow-soft bed. I drop down on my stomach and bury my face in the pillow before letting out the most satisfying groan. I don't know if he changed these sheets, but all I smell is spice and bergamot and all things Riggs McCoy.

Thank God.

I rub my face in the pillow, imagining it's Riggs's neck as I inhale deeply. He always smells so damn good, and I can just imagine him lying here, relaxing, his legs spread wide. I bet he lies naked, his cock in his hand, and pleasures himself right here, his low, manly moans filling this space as he tugs on his cock. Heat burns through my veins, and my toes tingle as I'm overwhelmed with lust. I wonder what it would be like having his weight on me, his smell suffocating me as he ate at my mouth, my breasts, and between my legs. I wonder if he'd be rough with me or if he'd handle me like I'm breakable.

I moan as I roll onto my back, everything on fire. I'm wound up so tightly, I know I won't be able to function without release. Just the thought of him feeling the same way I did after our impromptu dinner has me pushing my hand into my shorts to my burning hot center. I'm soaked, and my hips jerk when I press my fingers against my clit. Heat burns throughout my body, my toes curling, my stomach clenching, and with another stroke, I come with a guttural cry. I gasp in breath, my chest heaving as I gaze at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes. I'm taken aback when a laugh bubbles out of me. I haven't come that hard in a while, and it's all because of him.

The man of all my desires.

And I just came in his bed.

Without him.

If that makes me a slutty little freak, hey, I'll get a shirt made, because I will own that.

Proudly.