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Riggs picked up his coffee and took a slow sip. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does,” I insisted. “I’ve been waffle hunting for years, and suddenly you just happened to stumble upon the best waffles in the city.”
“Walked past it.”
“Coming from where?”
He glowered at me, clearly annoyed that I wasn’t dropping it. “I stayed over with a friend.”
“Afriend?” I grinned, shimmying my shoulders. Inside, it felt like I was being knifed in the chest by every felon in the zip code. “From school? Work?”
“A fuck buddy.”
“Nice that you’d think about me right after having sex with someone else.”
His lips twitched. “I always think about you. You’re my girl, Poppins.”
Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t control the butterflies stretching their wings in the pit of my belly.
“And your fuck buddies?” I asked casually, dumping too much creamer into my black coffee as a distraction. “What are they?”
“My outlet,” he answered shortly before flagging a waitress.
She came over quickly, shooting him a flirty smile. “Can I help you, handsome?”
“You sure can. Got any Advil?”
She threw him a pout, resting her cheek against her shoulder. “Sorry, but we’re not supposed to give away any medication. Liability stuff. We could get sued.”
“I won’t sue you.” He gave her his I’m-about-to-fuck-your-brains-out grin. The one I’d been avoiding all week. As expected, it worked like a charm.
Her gaze ping-ponged between us. “Doesn’t your girlfriend have any?”
So subtle. So smooth. Quick, someone give this woman a medal for diplomacy.
Well, as it turned out, I’d had enough of women trying to get a piece of what was about to belegallymine.
“Actually, I’m the wife.” I wiggled my engagement finger, flashing Riggs’s ring.
“But we’re getting a divorce,” he hurried to say. “As soon as today, seeing as wifey here is dead set on my not getting painkillers.”
I could see the waitress’s internal struggle before she sighed.
“All right. Be right back.”
Once she was gone, I swiveled to him. “Headache again?”
He nodded, rubbing his temples.
“You seem to get them a lot.”
“Yeah,” he groaned. “For a couple years now. They keep getting worse.”
“And you never got it checked?” I eyed his still-full waffle plate.
He shrugged. “One in every fifteen men has chronic migraines.”
“If you have to pop fifteen to twenty painkillers a week, they’re notjustheadaches. You should see a doctor.”
