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“Shame. My friends really wanted to meet you.” He seemed genuine, which was quite disturbing.
“About that ...” I frowned. “Whyare they acting like this is all real?”
He tipped his head back, laughing. “To piss me off, probably. I was the last man standing, see.”
“Then why aren’t you?”
“Pissed off?” He looked at me funny, like the answer was obvious. “Giving someone the emotional reaction they’re shooting for means losing, and I’m no loser. Go get showered, Poppins. I’ll kick them out. Don’t worry about it.”
Astonishingly, this made me feel like a complete twat. I expected him to push back, to hurl insults at me, to tell me I was being difficult and prissy.
“Fine, but when I come out, we’re making a house rules sheet. Alaminatedone.” I wiggled my finger in his face.
“The fun just never ends with you.” He dropped his gaze down to my cleavage and gave me a big, wolfish grin. “I love it when you talk dirty to me,wifey.”
Half an hour later I felt marginally better, once I was in clean, dry clothes after a cold, refreshing shower. By the time I exited the bathroom, the flat was sort of tidy, but it still smelled like a sweaty, infested crotch. Riggs, in his perpetual good mood, was whistling to himself while stuffing pizza cartons into a bin bag.
He stopped and watched as I shoved my feet into my Louboutin sandals. I stole a glance at his face. I couldn’t help it. It was like running your tongue over the same mouth ulcer, even though you knew it’d hurt. He raised his eyebrows with a friendly smile. “See something you like?”
“Oh, drop dead.”
“I’m about to marry you. That seems close enough.”
Flushed, I hurried to change the subject. “I think our first rule should be no pets.” I stood up and walked over to my laptop.
“Does your landlord forbid it?”
“Haven’t asked.” I began typing. “But it doesn’t matter. The place is too small, and animals are filthy. They do terrible things to fabrics.”
“And awesome things to the soul,” he countered, but when I shot him a scowl, he raised his palms. “Fine. Souls are overrated. No pets. I’m always on the go, anyway. It wouldn’t be fair to them.”
“The second rule is no bringing home hookups,” I proceeded. I knew I would have absolutely no issue fulfilling this part of the bargain. My sex life was nonexistent before BJ,duringBJ, and assumingly after BJ. Riggs, on the other hand, was a lovely, outgoing creature. Gorgeous and warm. I bet he slept with loads of women, all the time. I didn’t care to meet any of them over morning coffee while I was getting ready for work.
“Is this two sided?” Riggs arched an eyebrow.
“Of course!” I huffed. “I’m fair.”
“Are you?” He double tied the trash bag and brought it over to the door.
“Very fair,” I confirmed with a nod.
“Then I have a rule too.”
“What’s your rule?”
“No more than three rules.” He threw his slow sexy grin behind his shoulder. The one I suspected compelled women to offer him a kidney. “That’s all you get.”
“Why?” I asked, flabbergasted.
“Because what you need right now is as few rules as possible, and to have a whole lot of fun. You’re about to be single for six months. Live a little.”
Putting my fingers to my wrist, I pretended to examine my pulse. “Sorry to disappoint, but my vitals seem quite good.” Then, remembering he was committing a federal offense for me, I sighed. “All right. One more rule. But you accept rule number two, right? No bringing bloody women into my apartment?”
He held my gaze. “You have my word they will not be bloody.”
“Riggs!”
“Fine. Or that they will exist at all.”
