Page 24 of Riggs
Chapter Ten
Luna
With Riggs gone, I do what all women do — I snoop. His apartment is not big. I wasn't lying when I said I liked it. Double checking to make sure the door is locked, I make my way back into the bedroom and walk into the closet. Hanging on one side are his clothes. Riggs' wardrobe consists of jeans, t-shirts, and long sleeve thermals. Surprisingly everything is neat and organized. Even his shoes are lined up flawlessly against the wall of the closet. Switching to the opposite side, I take in the new women's clothing with tags still attached. I can't believe he did this for me.
Scanning the tags, I notice the sizes are spot on. When he said Payton and Josie picked the clothes out, I was a little surprised they willingly helped shop for another woman. Women can be catty, but when I met them earlier at the clubhouse, they seemed welcoming, both offering warm smiles. Lexi, on the other hand, looked at me as if I'd kicked her puppy or something. I'm pretty sure I know what her problem with me is about. I am a woman after all, so I read the venomous vibes coming off her loud and clear. I start to wonder if she and Riggs have a thing going on. Maybe they did in the past. I'm not naïve enough to not know what those three women do at the club.
Not that I am passing judgment. I just don't want to be mixed up in some sort of lover's quarrel. Suddenly the thought of Riggs involved with someone causes a wave of sadness to wash over me. I start second guessing his touches and the way he kisses my forehead or calls me baby. Does he do that with all women? Have I been reading more into his actions? I could have sworn he wanted to kiss me earlier before he left. Maybe it was my imagination. I am so out of my element. I don't have much experience when it comes to men or dating. I don't know what to think about these feelings I'm having for Riggs. My gut tells me I can trust him with my life, but can I trust him with my heart? Pushing those thoughts away, I step out of the closet and turn to face the perfectly made king-sized bed that sits in the open space. There are tables that sit on either side of the bed. I can tell which side is his by the framed photo sitting on top. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I take the photo in my hand. The picture is of an older couple. The way they are looking at each other in the photo makes me smile. Setting it back in its place, I go about opening the top drawer of the nightstand. Staring back at me is a large box of condoms; next to the condoms, a bottle of lube and a gun. I slam the drawer shut and back away from the table as if it burned me.
Deciding I have had enough snooping around, I choose to take a quick shower before cooking dinner. Grabbing the pair of silk pajama pants and spaghetti strap camisole I spied earlier along with a pair of panties, I make my way to the bathroom. Flipping the light on, I take in the numerous bottles of female products lining the counter next to the sink: shampoo, conditioner, bubble bath, three different bottles of lotion, perfume. There is also an unopened pack of razors and a toothbrush. Clearly, the girls thought of everything. I make a mental note to thank them the next time I see them.
After I finish with my shower, I head straight for the kitchen. The first thing I do is make myself familiar with where everything is kept. I then inspect the fridge. On the top shelf, I spot some ground beef. A meatloaf sounds perfect and doesn't take too long to cook. Behind me, I open the cabinet and begin pulling out the necessary ingredients then I preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Once the loaf is in the oven, I go about peeling the potatoes for mashed potatoes and gravy along with boiling some water for the green beans. When I spy at least a dozen peaches in the fruit bowl on the small dining room table, I know what I will be making for desert. Peach pie. When I told Riggs, I love to cook; it was a bit of an understatement. It is my favorite thing to do next to the painting. If I'm not working on my art, I most likely will have my nose stuck in a cookbook or scouring the internet for new recipes.
Two and a half hours later, dinner is on the table, and Riggs is walking through the back door the same moment I'm taking the pie from the oven and setting it on the cooling rack. I take in Riggs' reaction as he steps up to the two-seater dining table. He's taking in all the food with a look on his face I can't decipher. My nerves kick in, and I'm instantly aware I may have gone a bit overboard with dinner. Come to think of it, with the way I have a table set for two and a peach pie made from scratch sitting on the counter and me traipsing around in my pajamas; it looks as though I've made myself a little too comfortable. I don't want Riggs to think I'm trying to play house or take over his apartment so I'm quick to say something. Bringing my hands up, I say, "I'm sorry."
When Riggs still doesn't say anything, I start to fidget. A few awkward seconds tick by with neither one of us saying a word, so I make a move to begin clearing the table. I'm gathering the plates and silverware in my hands when they are abruptly snatched from my grip. "Coming home to find the most beautiful fucking woman in the world, wearing the clothes I bought her, her silky blonde hair wet from using my shower, and standing in my kitchen preparing the most delicious smelling food; has got to be the best fucking sight in the world." Then without warning, Riggs snakes his left arm around my waist while his right hand cups the back of my head. I don't have time to process his move before his mouth is on mine. When I gasp in shock, Riggs takes full advantage delving his tongue inside my mouth, tasting me, taking what he wants. I let out a throaty moan when the taste of whiskey paired with a hint of mint explodes in my mouth. Throwing caution to the wind, I allow my body to melt against his and savor the feel of his lips against mine and his hands on my body. Threading my fingers through his hair, I press my breasts against the hard plains of his chest. I swallow his growl when my tongue tangles with his.
Too soon for my liking, Riggs breaks our connection, a whimper escapes my mouth, and my fists release the hold they have on his hair. "Sweetest fucking mouth I ever tasted," I read his lips when he goes to rest his forehead against mine. With one last gentle peck on my lips, Riggs releases his hold on me. "Let's eat, baby."
That's it? Well, if I wasn't confused about what's going on between Riggs and me before, then I most definitely am now.
Riggs and I eat our meal together. One thing I like about being around him is I am comfortable just being with him. There is no awkwardness. Neither one of us needs to fill the space around us with constant conversation. We both enjoy being in the moment and enjoying our food. The meatloaf turned out perfect as did the mashed potatoes. Once Riggs and I are both finished with our meal, he pushes himself away from the table, stands and clears our empty plates, taking them to the sink. He goes to the refrigerator and retrieves two beers. Riggs holds one up with a silent question, and I nod. Popping the top, he sets the bottle in front of me and takes his seat. I finally ask the question I've been dying to know for days. "How is it you came to learn ASL?"
"My grandmother was deaf," he answers.
"Was?" I question.
"She passed away several years ago."
"I'm sorry," I tell him my face sincere. "What about your grandad? I saw the picture on your nightstand. Is he still alive?"
"He is. He lives here in New Orleans. I still see him almost every day."
"Have you always lived in New Orleans?" I ask.
"Yes. My grandad and grandmother raised my brother and me."
"What about your mom and dad?"
Riggs shakes his head. "Mom could never stay in one place too long. She'd drop my brother and me off on my grandparents every chance she got. Finally, my Grandad had said enough was enough. He told my mom we needed stability. He told her to either settle her ass down in one spot or leave us with him permanently. She chose the latter. As for my father; I've never met the man."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I'm not. I couldn't have asked to be raised by two better people. Besides, I don't hold anything against my mother. She loves my brother and me. She made the right choice." Riggs doesn't say anything for a minute before he flips the tables and starts asking the questions. "Were you born deaf?"
I shake my head. "No. I was born with a genetic disorder. I went completely deaf by the time I was four."
Riggs tilts his head to the side, studying me then takes a swig of his beer. "That would mean you can talk. No?"
I bite the inside of my cheek, hesitant to answer him. "Yes. I can talk a little," I tell him truthfully. And I know what his next question will be.
"So, why don't you?"
"I was so young when I lost my hearing, Riggs. My verbal development stopped at age four. Teachers and school therapist encouraged me to keep trying, but with the constant bullying from other kids, because I sounded different when I spoke, became too much. It wasn't just the kids at school either. I was picked on by the kids in the foster homes I stayed in, and some of my foster parents could be just as cruel. I was happiest when I remained silent and invisible. For the most part, I was left alone. But even though I stopped speaking, I made myself master reading people's lips. I can't make out every word someone says, but I can understand every other word. It's easy enough to piece sentences together. I had to learn to read lips anyway since most foster parents don't know ASL," I shrug my shoulders. "I was placed in a school for the hearing impaired when I was six. The state made sure whatever family I was placed with was within the same district as the school. I don't have many nice things to say about the system, but at least they did that for me. I loved my school, and I excelled there." Looking back now, I realized that even as a kid, I understood the meaning of survival. I did what I had to do to get by. By the time I finish telling Riggs that small piece of my past, he looks ready to spit nails. He's gripping the beer bottle so hard I'm afraid it's going to shatter. He stands so abruptly the chair he was sitting in flies backward. I'm confused by his actions.
Riggs takes two long strides around the table, dropping to one knee in front of me. He gets so close I can feel his warm breath on my face as he speaks. "Someone as extraordinary as you should never hide or be ignored," he declares. The fiery look in his blue eyes causes my breath to get lodged in my throat. Riggs grips my chin with one hand and signs with the other. "I see you. You are not invisible." He leans forward and gently kisses my lips. I close my eyes and let the tears roll down my cheeks. Riggs is the first person I have opened to like this. I don't know why, but I feel safe with him. I feel as though I can tell him anything.
Later that evening, Riggs and I didn't delve any further into my past. I guess he figures we had covered enough for the night, for which I am grateful. Now here I am sitting on his bed eating peach pie and watching TV. Riggs had to go downstairs to the bar, but before he left, he asked if I'd like to watch TV. I had nodded and told him I had been missing Game of Thrones like you wouldn't believe. I was already four episodes behind. So, Riggs set his large flat screen TV up with subtitles, pulled up his DVR list, and fixed me up. It turns out Riggs is a bit obsessed with the show himself.
