Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 135696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
“We’re eating like civilized people,” his mother announced. “In the dining room.”
So his mom was staying for dinner.
His lips started twitching again.
“Help me set the table?” Nadia asked Ledger.
“Sure,” he answered, starting to put his work away.
“Where are your placemats?” Nadia asked Riggs.
“Honey,” he replied.
No lip wrinkle that time.
Her eyes actually fucking twinkled at the way he admitted he was not a man who owned placemats.
“Time for more online shopping,” she muttered to herself before she asked the room at large, “What am I working with? Is this a family that does premade tacos, and they handle the fixin’s? Or do you go from the base up?”
“Base up,” all three of the Riggs in attendance said at the same time.
Nadia laughed then started ordering Ledger around. “You and I will get the table set and then you can take in all the stuff while I deal with the lettuce and start warming the tortillas.”
“You got it,” Ledger agreed.
They hustled off with plates and cutlery and paper napkins while his mother strolled Riggs’s way, likely on a trajectory to the fridge to top up her wine.
But she stopped at him.
Close.
And spoke.
Quietly.
“Your son is knocking himself out to make your neighbor fall in love with him. Actually, the both of you.”
That didn’t make a weight settle on Riggs’s chest.
It made it feel tight.
“She and I had a quiet moment, however, and after some subtle probing, she shared what it was clear she thought I already knew. That you two were firmly in what she calls the friend zone,” his mom kept on. “It’s my impression, you’re the one who put her there.”
Fuck.
“Mom—”
“From what I see, my son is delivering a dizzying array of mixed messages. Pick a lane, Doc,” she ordered. “But a warning. This time, you can’t whiz by all the others on a joy ride. This time, you go as slow as it takes and get where you’re going in one piece, keeping your passenger safe alongside you.”
She didn’t let him respond, not that he could, due to all his attention shifting to the tight knot that had formed in his chest.
She headed to the fridge just as Nadia and Ledger came back, Nadia babbling, “The cheese is ready to roll. You can take that in, sweetheart. I’ll drain the corn and dish out the beans closer to. We don’t want them to get cold.” This she said to Ledge, but to him and his mom, she commanded. “Hit a chair. We got you.”
Riggs hit the fridge first, asking Nadia, “Wine or beer tonight?”
She shifted her chin toward a half-full wineglass on the counter then started hacking at a head of lettuce.
So he took the wine from his mother and topped her up.
Then he took his beer, Nadia’s wine, and hit a chair in the dining room.
He put Nadia’s wineglass at the seat beside him.
Riggs came down from making sure his boy was settled in for the night to see Nadia on his couch, her stocking feet on the edge of his coffee table, her laptop on her thighs, her head turned to watch over her shoulder as he approached.
His mom was gone.
Hernandez was still out there.
And later, Nadia was going to be in a bed that was as far away from his as his house could put her, and still, that was way too close for his peace of mind.
“He good?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“Good. Come here, I want to show you something.”
He descended the steps into the living room and sat beside her.
Nadia instantly scooched closer and then listed into his side.
It felt good. It felt comfortable. It felt right.
But damn.
He’d been fucking with her head, he knew it, but even if he knew he shouldn’t do it, he couldn’t stop himself, and now he knew he’d fucked up.
Even having that thought, he shifted to pull his arm from between them so he could drape it across the back of the couch, but mostly because that was close to her shoulders.
He could tell himself that made him even more comfortable, and that would be true.
But it wasn’t the only reason he did it.
Nor the primary one.
“So last night, when I got home, I emailed a friend of mine who practices estate law in Chicago,” she stated. “And she sent me some super interesting stuff.”
She was scrolling through a document that looked legal on her laptop.
“I haven’t had a lot of time to read through it,” she carried on. “But Susan started with a cursory search as a favor, but then she got engrossed, because she told me she’s never seen a case this bizarre. So she wrote a whole brief to me detailing what she’s found so far, along with sending a ton of stuff.”
“What are you talking about?” Riggs asked.
She was clicking into another document, but she stopped doing that to tip her head back to catch his eyes. “Lincoln, Sarah and Roosevelt Whitaker.”