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"What's wrong?" Riggs inquires.
"I think I'm just tired," I say.
He feels my head. "You don't have a fever."
"I don't. I'm just tired," I insist again.
He stares at me, and I can tell he isn’t buying that I'm just tired. He nods toward the sub. "You still need to eat."
I push the sandwich away. "I can't eat this. It smells rotten. Smell it!"
Riggs picks his sandwich up and sniffs it. "No, it doesn't."
"It does," I insist.
He grabs my sub, holds it to his nose, deeply inhales, then declares, "This is fresh."
The thought of taking a bite makes me wince.
"Let me get you another sandwich," he says.
I glance at the case of desserts. "I'd rather eat a piece of that double chocolate fudge cake."
He arches his eyebrows, and his lips twitch. "You haven't eaten all day and want a piece of cake?"
"Yeah. If you're good, I'll let you smear it all over me, then lick it off later tonight," I tease as I lean closer and wiggle my eyebrows. I admit, "I'm suddenly feeling a little needy."
Riggs chuckles. "I guess I'll get a couple of extra pieces of cake, then."
"Can we get it to go?" I ask, then add, "I'm sorry. Are you starving?"
He holds his hand up. "No, I'm fine. We can take it home, but at least eat the chips." He hands me the paper container.
I shove one in my mouth and chew it. "These are good."
"Glad you approve. Have some more," he orders, then wraps up the sandwiches and goes to the counter. He orders three pieces of cake.
The staff boxes everything up.
Riggs leads me out to the Porsche.
I get in the car and don't make it very far before I fall asleep. When I wake up, Riggs is carrying me into the bedroom. I stroke his cheek and say, "Hey."
He kisses me on the forehead. "Hey. Go back to sleep. I'll tuck you under the covers."
My stomach growls. "I think I want my chocolate cake."
He sets me on the bed, removes my shirt and pants, and pulls the blankets over me. He states, "I'll go get your dessert."
"Thanks."
A few minutes pass. He carries a TV tray into the room. It has a plate and a piece of cake on it. There's a bottle of water, one fork, and two napkins.
Riggs takes a forkful and holds it near my mouth.
I bite into it and groan. After I chew and swallow, I declare, "This is so good."
He grins. "Glad you're enjoying it."
