Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
“How are you doing, man?” Riggs asks.
“Good.”
He scoffs. “Don’t give me a rote answer. How are you really doing? You’ve got a ton to manage. The kid, the regular job, your side hustle.”
I appreciate the thoughtful question. Most guys are afraid to ask how another dude is doing. We haven’t been taught that in a lot of cases. But Riggs tries to practice the hard stuff.
And he’s not wrong, so I give a better answer. “It feels doable. I feel good. Maybe because we’re playing well, or maybe because the bakery’s first week was a success. But then again, I’m not the one who’s at the bakery all day long. Mabel is.” A smile tugs at my lips as I think of her regular reports and how much I look forward to them. She sends me photos of empty trays with only crumbs left, pictures of the card reader displaying the sales at the end of the day, and mouth-watering images of what she’s baking. Those pictures give me life. “She’s doing a great job.”
Riggs arches a brow, then shakes his head, like something amuses him.
“What’s that for?”
He smirks. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
He takes a drink of his seltzer water, then sets it on the railing. “I was partly wondering how it’s going since it’s always seemed like you were into her.”
He said something similar back in Los Angeles when we kidnapped Lake. But that felt like a lucky guess. Not sure if this is the same.
“Yeah?” I ask nonchalantly as I try to figure out how to answer, if at all.
“Just something I pick up on now and then,” he says, tone serious.
He leaves it at that—an offer to listen.
I was truthful earlier. I’ve been truthful whenever we’ve had tougher conversations. Might as well be now. It’s clear his remark isn’t in the vein of lucky guesses or giving a teammate a hard time.
I scratch my jaw. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t into her, but I’ll be one hundred percent honest and tell you it would be a bad idea if I were to do anything about it.”
Any more things about it.
He blows out a breath. “I hear you. I think the same thing sometimes.”
I arch a brow. “About Sapphire?”
He shakes his head. “No. Things are cool with her. It’s going well.” He pauses, like he’s rewinding something in his mind. “I meant I have in the past. Some women are just off-limits.”
Briefly, I wonder who’s off-limits for him, because it doesn’t sound like Sapphire is. But he’ll tell me if and when he’s ready. He fiddles with the label on the bottle of seltzer water, then looks back at me with a shrug. “What can you do though?”
That’s the question, isn’t it? I don’t have any answers. I’m grateful when my attention snags on a silhouette near the sliding glass door leading to the deck.
Riggs turns to it too. “Speak of the devil.”
Charlotte slides the door open, and Mabel’s right behind her, carrying a grocery bag. My heart slams hard against my chest.
“Don’t worry. We won’t be out here long, interrupting your man time,” Charlotte says, precocious and far too observant.
Mabel cracks up, then says to my kid, “Why do I feel like you’ve said that before?”
Charlotte shrugs. “I let them do their thing. And I can do my thing. Do you want to watch this cool documentary with me? It’s all about the planet’s diverse ecosystems and which animals thrive in them.”
Riggs snaps his gaze to Charlotte. “That does sound interesting.”
“It is. I’m learning a lot,” she says. “You could learn more for your trivia nights.”
Riggs looks tempted, but then he says, “I should keep your dad company.”
“Good plan,” she says.
I turn my gaze to Mabel, who’s wearing one of our Afternoon Delight sweatshirts that says F*ck Mornings on it, and it just looks so damn good on her. Bet it’d look good off her too. Quickly, I strike that thought from my head since one, I shouldn’t be thinking it, and two, my kid is right here.
“How’s it going, Mabel?” I ask evenly, trying to strip all the longing and affection from my tone.
She lifts the canvas bag. “Charlotte asked me to bring some things over. She thought you guys might want a little extra food here. I made some of your famous seven-layer bars, even though I didn’t taste them because they have nuts. And I made some grilled cheese sandwiches.”
“Thank you,” I say.
Riggs sits up straighter. “Did you say grilled cheese sandwiches? Because we just ran out of sandwiches.”
Mabel smiles. “I did. I had some cheese from The Cheesery and some bread from the gourmet market, so I thought I would try it out. Here you go. They’re still fresh and gooey, so you’d better eat them now.”
Riggs beelines for the bag, then holds it up toward the lawn. “Behold, the grilled cheese, boys.”