Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

Clara

No wonder he's been closed off.

It really upsets me that Elliot just decided that there was nothing more to Riggs than what he put out there. I knew from the jump that beyond all his hotness and his grumpy exterior, there was more to him. The man has a soul, he has a heart, and yes, he's locked it all down, but it was for good reason. He lost his parents, then got married, only to have her cheat on and steal from him. Is it pathetic that I'm green with envy that he loved her? Maybe, but I think I'm even more upset that she hurt him when he loved her so much.

Bitch.

"Was it a happy marriage?"

He chewed his bite as he shrugged. "At first, it was. But like I said, I was always getting hurt, which made me an arsehole, as she'd called me. Then I was always traveling, and I think we grew apart."

I nod. "So, it was good until it wasn't?"

"I don't know. I've spent a lot of years grieving my marriage, and sometimes I wonder if I'm not actually grieving her but rather the time I wasted on her."

I bring in my brows. "I need more than that."

A small smile pulls at his lips. "I think I married her because I felt so hollow after my parents died. I think she took advantage since I was up-and-coming, just signed one hell of a deal, then got my inheritance. I'm not saying she didn't love me. I think at one point she did, but she went from living with her ma and siblings to me, we didn't have sex until our wedding night, and I mean…you've gotten a taste of what I like," he says with a wink, and I grin. "She always said I was too much. Too much in bed, touching her too much, I asked too many questions. I don't think I ever realized it until we were at the end that I wasn't her type."

"You're not too much, Riggs." His eyes shine for me, and my heart trips over itself. "But that's young love. Either you grow together, or you grow apart."

He searches my eyes with his. "That's a very adult comment for a wee lass."

I shoot him a glare. "Excuse you—I'm your baby girl."

He rubs my knuckles. "You are."

I nod in agreement as I shrug. "I grew up with four older sisters who were more my moms than my sisters. I learned a lot from books they'd read me, and the situation in which I grew up didn't really allow for me to be a kid."

His brows pull together. "I always wondered where your parents were."

"Nowhere near us, thank God," I mutter, shaking my head. "So, don't judge me, okay?"

He gives me a dry look. "Really?"

I laugh nervously. "Really, this is going to sound like a very bad made-for-TV story."

"Now I'm intrigued."

I roll my eyes before taking a deep breath. I've never told a guy this, but I want to tell Riggs. "My sisters and I grew up in a cult, like a real one where we all lived in the back of some field and didn't have TV or internet." I pause for his reaction, but he is listening intently. "We weren't allowed to wear anything but dresses and never show more skin than our faces and hands. My sisters taught me to read, write, and sing my ABCs. I was reading Jane Austen books when I was nine, and only because Austen would save whatever little money she could to buy them for us."

"So basically, you guys were Amish?"

I ponder that, and then I shake my head. "Eh, maybe 50 Shades of Amish, but not in the even vaguely consensual way like the book."

He cocks his head. "What?"

"Women were property to the men of New Beginnings. When the leader decided he wanted my mom as his wife, he killed my dad and said God told him to do it ."

"Jesus Christ."

"Was nowhere to be seen in New Beginnings," I joke, trying to lighten the mood. "I watched my sisters be abused and raped, forced into marriage. I cleaned their wounds when they'd get beaten up. It was mostly Louisa and Elliot since they don't know how to shut up, but Austen and Eliza were hurt just as badly, in different ways."

"Did they hurt you?"

I squeeze his hand. "Thankfully, I didn't go through what my sisters did. My sisters hid me a lot and always made excuses, saying I was sick or doing homework, so no one really got a good look at me until I left. It doesn't mean I left unscathed, but we all got out."

"What do you mean?"

I press my lips together and decide I'm not ready to talk about that. "I don't know that I want to share that yet."

His eyes turn soft, and he strokes my knuckles with his thumb. "I'm here when you are."

I give him a small smile, and then he says, "I'm thankful they didn't hurt you."

I shrug, and I hate the guilt I feel that my sisters weren't so fortunate. "They tried. And the day I made a run for it to the end of the road, where my sisters and Peepaw waited, a guy tried to steal me. But I kicked him in the balls and ran like the devil was chasing me. In a way, he was."

When I look up at Riggs, his eyes are shining with pride, but I do see a bit of rage in that dark-chocolate gaze. "You keep impressing me, Clara McDavid."

I smile proudly, brushing my hair off my shoulders like the bad bitch I am. "I know. I'm pretty amazing."

He smiles as he nods in agreement. "And these people are still alive? How have my hockey players not killed them all?"

I chuckle at that. "We don't know where they are, and Peepaw paid them off to never look for us. He wanted a fresh start for us. I know that my sisters' partners have asked to find them, but we don't want them knowing about the guys, or even knowing how happy we all are. We want that to be the past, and we have worked really hard on ourselves not to let it affect our present and future."

"You're very wise, baby girl."

I shrug. "I was raised by the best."

He brings my knuckles to his lips and kisses them softly. Silence stretches between us as he licks and nibbles my knuckles to the point I wonder if I have sauce on them. But I know I don't. He's just being supportive, letting me know without words he's here for me.

My grumpy guy.

Unable to handle the silence anymore, I say, "Wow, this is some heavy stuff. I'm pretty sure since this is our second date, we're supposed to talk about our favorite colors."

"Second date?"

I give him a dry look. "Don't play. You hijacked my date with Gavin."

He chuckles at that. "No, you dumped that guy on the spot."

"Yeah, for you," I say, giving him a wide grin. "And he still wants me."

His face turns to stone. "He can't have you."

"I know," I say simply, fluttering my lashes at him. "He's not my type anyway. I like brooding lumberjacks who coach hockey."

Riggs's lips curve a bit as he looks up at me from beneath his lashes. His eyes are so beautiful. He's beautiful. "Pink."

I wrinkle my nose at him. "Are you trying to guess my favorite color?"

"I'm right."

"No way!"

He laughs softly, but then his face turns serious. In a deep voice, he asks, "Hey, baby girl?"

"Yes?"

"What's your favorite color?"

"Yellow."

His eyes go molten. "I should have known with how beautifully sunny you are."

"You really should have."

"Even though your ass looks great all pink from my handprint," he says as if he is telling me the odds of a thunderstorm.

I feel my face flush as I shake my head. Not wanting to give in to his crude words that have me on edge, I ask, "What's your favorite color?"

He licks his lips, holding my gaze. "Navy."

I scrunch up my face. "Navy? That's so weird. Why wouldn't it be blue? Navy is so boring."

He stands then, coming around the counter and spinning my barstool so I'm facing him. He leans in, caging me between his arms as his chest touches mine, and his hips push my thighs open. His jaw is tight, his eyes dangerous as he moves closer, his lips brushing mine. "You're wrong."

"No, I'm not. Navy isn't a color that you go, hey, that's my favorite!"

"I do."

I roll my eyes, but he takes my jaw in his hand, locking his eyes with mine. "No matter how the sun catches them, or how turned on you get, your eyes stay the perfect shade of navy. That's why navy is my favorite."

I can't breathe. I can't think.

Holy mother of fucks.

"Because of my eyes?"

"All because of your eyes."

Swoon. Can he let me go so I can turn into a puddle of goo and soak into his skin?

Is that weird?

Yeah, I'm a weirdo.

"What about before me?"

"I didn't have a favorite color," he admits, stroking my lip with his thumb. "There are a lot of things I didn't have before you, and I didn't know they existed until now."

Before I can turn to goo or swoon or even take in a breath, he kisses me.

And I fall even more in love with Riggs McCoy.

Pulling only a mere breath away, he whispers, "I'm ready to eat dessert."

I part my lips, and he runs his tongue along my bottom lip. "I brought those muffins."

He shakes his head, his lips grazing mine. "Nope, you're my dessert."

With that, he drops to his knees before me, his eyes dark and wanton. His shoulders push my thighs apart, and with his eyes still on me, he devours me.

Like I'm his favorite dessert.