Riggs chuckled, leaning back and scrubbing a hand down his face. I appreciated the way he kissed me because I knew of everything we did together, the kisses were something meant only for my pleasure, not his.
“I didn’t realize I’d been worried about that until you said it.”
I smiled and smoothed my hands across his chest. His shirt wasn’t dirty and it wasn’t wrinkled, but it gave me something to do.
“Do you want me to come with you?” I asked.
“I know it’s not how you planned to spend your Saturday night.”
“I planned to spend my Saturday night with you,” I reminded him. “I’m with you.”
“How are you so perfect?”
“I’m far from perfect, but I’ve had good men model it for me, I think.”
Riggs made a thoughtful sound. “I want to meet your oldest brother soon.”
“I want you to meet him too. But one thing at a time, yes?”
He huffed a laugh and nodded, shaking off whatever extra emotion he’d been carrying. “Ready?”
“As ready as you are.”
“So not at all.” Riggs grabbed the doorknob as he spoke, letting his body override the uncertainty of his words.
I followed him downstairs and we found Toren pacing the lobby so aggressively I worried he would dig out a path in the floor. At the sound of Riggs’s unmistakable and heavy footfalls, Toren looked up. His eyes were a little red, his hair looked like someone—probably himself—had been tugging at it for the past hour.
“Toren,” Riggs greeted.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” Toren blurted, stare flickering from Riggs to me and back again. “That was?—”
“Perfectly fine,” I promised.
“Food, coffee, or drinks?” Riggs asked.
“Drinks.”
Riggs nodded. “Merrick, will you lock up when you’re done?”
Merrick turned down his tattoo machine, leveling a dry look at Riggs. “Obviously.”
Holden grunted his goodbye, and Riggs and I headed out onto the sidewalk behind Toren, who moved like he’d never walked a day in his life before.
“Are you good?” I asked Riggs, the jingle of the bells on the door drowning out my question.
“With you.” He cleared his throat and gestured with his chin toward the street. “There’s a little dive bar around the corner if that works.”
“That works,” Toren said.
There wasn’t room for the three of us to walk side by side, so I let the two of them take the lead. I stayed close, though, close enough to realize the two of them didn’t say a word to each other the whole walk.
The bar in question was definitely divey, but Riggs knew the bartender, and had no issue sliding into a small booth againstthe far wall. I took the seat beside him, and Toren sat across from us, folding his hands neatly on top of the slightly sticky tabletop before frowning and dropping his hands onto his lap. That didn’t last long either, and they were back on the table in no time.
“Toren, right?” I asked, when it became clear neither man knew how to speak to the other.
He nodded, brown eyes dark in the reddish amber lighting of the bar.
“Smith,” I said.
