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That sounded slightly more believable.
Everything will be okay.
Everything will be okay.
Everything will be o . . .
A loud noise of glass smashing came from the living room. It was followed by the sound of glass crunching over the floor, like someone had stomped all over it.
Riggs had a key, so it couldn’t be him. I lived on the second floor, but my window was directly in front of the fire escape.
Instinctively, I decided the best course of action was to wrap myself in a towel and confront the intruder in my living room. After all, there was no better thing to do than togreetone’s burglar half-naked.
Why not simply stick a RAPE ME note on your forehead, Poppins?Riggs’s wry voice taunted in my head.
Still in the bathroom, I caught myself. I couldn’t go out there empty handed. I needed a weapon. Something sharp and discreet. I looked around frantically. The only thing that was remotely practical was my pink shaving razor. I pulled it from the suction holder and dashed out of the bathroom, waving the thing in the air like it was a sword.
“Who is there?” I demanded in a shrill voice before coming to a stop in the middle of the living room.
My window—myonlywindow—was smashed. Broken beyond repair. That was the bad news. The good news was that my burglar was also my fiancé. And the man I was about to murder.
Riggs was standing in the middle of the small room, calmly tucking his photography equipment into its cases, shards of glass adorning his gargantuan booted feet.
“Hey.” He popped a cinnamon gum, not bothering to look up. “Water must be hot after today, huh?”
The water was actually lovely. It was one of the things I liked the most about summers in the city.
Focus, Duffy, focus.
“Hmm. Did you just ...?” I motioned at the broken window.
He raised his head distractedly, then nodded. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I smashed the tripod against it when I organized my shit. Don’t worryabout it. I’ll call someone to fix it first thing tomorrow morning. Get them to install the triple-glazed stuff. You had a crack in the glass, anyway.”
How could he be so calm? This was going to cost a fortune. A fortune neither of us had. He couldn’t even pay for a subway ticket.
“Riggs, this is a rented flat!” I bellowed, balling my fists in anger. “You can’t just break things.”
“I said I’ll take care of it.” He bypassed me by stalking to the kitchen and filling himself a glass of tap water. He was uncharacteristically taciturn, but I wasn’t in the mood to ask how his day had gone.
“So what if you did?” I followed him, perching my fists on either side of my waist. “If something goes wrong, I’m the one who’s going to have to deal with it.”
“You’ll have a brand-new window in less than twelve hours.” He leaned against the counter and filled himself another glass. He threw open all the cupboards before rummaging through them relentlessly. “Shit. Where’s your Tylenol?”
“Second cupboard to your right,” I gritted out. He was making a right mess, and I was in the wrong mood for it.
Riggs had some nerve brushing me off. I was living off my savings, with no job prospects, in one of the most expensive cities in the world. “And do you reckon you’ll pay for that wind—”
“Duffy, just shut up for a sec, will you? My head feels like someone is trying to drill oil out of it,” he snapped.
For a moment, I was speechless. Did he actually tell me to shut up? He’d never spoken to me this way. I had two options: calmly explain myself or go mental on his arse.
Normally, with BJ, I would choose option number one and try to reason with him. After all, I had loads to lose. With Riggs, I felt confident I could be free to be who I was—whoever that may be.
Which was how I found myself flinging my arms in the air.
“HOW DARE YOU—”
I didn’t get to finish the sentence, because something terrible happened. Something so terrible, in fact, it took me a few moments to fully digest it. The first giveaway was the breeze between my legs, followed by my cold nipples. My gaze traveled south, down my body.
