24. The Great Riggs Malone
24
Riggs
Armstrong’s is one of the nicest restaurants in Branston. It’s Friday night, and the hostess leads us through the crowded dining room to a secluded table in a back corner. I requested something a little more private when I made the reservation, and when the hostess heard my name, she was quick to ensure me all my needs would be met. Seeing the way our table is shielded by a potted tree from the rest of the dining room, I make a mental note to tip her before we leave.
“My friend Roxy works here,” Tessa says as I push her chair in.
“Is she a waitress?” I ask, rounding the table to slide into my own seat.
“Yeah,” she says, arching her neck to peer around. “I wonder if she’ll be our waitress. I know she’s working tonight.”
“I remember her, I think. Red hair? Graduated the year before me?” I ask.
“Yes, that’s Roxy,” Tessa says.
I cock my head. “Should I be worried she’s going to help you prank me tonight? Maybe add some laxatives to my food, or something?”
Tessa laughs, and it’s music to my ears. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“She’s been helping you?” I ask.
“The dick cookies were her creation. That’s her side hustle. She sells naughty pastries online.”
“I’m impressed,” I say, nodding. “She must make a fortune, because those cookies were delicious.”
She snorts out a laugh, and I smile back at her. I know she wants to crack a joke about me eating dicks, but she refrains with a slight shake of her head. This is a date, after all.
“Well, who do we have here?”
I look up to see a familiar redhead sidling up to us. Roxy Chamberlain looks almost exactly how I remember her. Her face is less rounded, more mature, and her brown eyes dance with mischief as she looks from me to Tessa.
“Should I bring him the special?” she asks, her tone laced with humor.
“Not tonight,” Tessa replies with a wide grin. “We’ve called a temporary cease-fire.”
“Pity,” Roxy murmurs, returning her gaze to me. “What can I start you off with to drink?”
“Iced tea with lemon for me,” I say, then look at Tessa. “Do you want a glass of wine?”
“You’re not drinking?” she asks, and I shake my head.
“Game-shape, remember? Also, I’m driving and I don’t like to take chances.”
She nods, then looks at Roxy. “I’ll have the same.”
Roxy leaves with the promise she’ll be back shortly with our drinks. I look at Tessa, and tilt my head to study her.
“You sure you don’t want the wine? Or maybe a cocktail?”
“I’m good,” she says, giving me a tender smile.
After Roxy delivers the iced teas and takes our food order, I reach across the table to take Tessa’s hand.
“Tell me about your life. What you did after high school. How you ended up owning Beans & Books.”
“Well, after graduation, I enrolled at the community college here in Branston and took some business courses. I knew I wanted to open my own coffee shop, so I figured business management was the way to go. Then, in a twist of fate, Mayor Thompkins announced he wanted to revitalize Sublime’s downtown area and offered grants for renovations to any new businesses desiring to set up shop in the square. I had some money my parents had saved in case I decided to go full-time to a four-year school, and I got approved for a small business loan, and the rest is history.”
“That’s amazing,” I say, truly impressed.
“Not as amazing as winning the Heisman and becoming a rich and famous athlete,” she shoots back with a smirk.
“You knew I won the Heisman?” I ask. “So, you followed my career and kept tabs on me all these years.”
“Don’t get cocky, now,” she says, but the admonishment is tempered by her grin. “I’m a football fan, and you can’t watch football without hearing all about the great Riggs Malone.”
“Sure,” I say, making my skepticism obvious by drawing out the word.
“What about you?” she asks. “I know you played in college, but what kind of degree did you earn? Do you have any plans outside of football?”
“I earned a bachelor’s in mathematics, plus a teaching degree. When I retire from football, I want to teach high school and get on the coaching staff. Maybe even become a head coach.”
“That’s great,” she says.
“Thanks. I always imagined coming back and coaching at our old high school, so when I heard Branston was creating a new team, I requested a trade. My old team didn’t want to give me up, but ultimately agreed when Branston offered them some key draft picks in return.”
“And the decision to buy a house in Sublime instead of staying in the condos the team provides here in Branston?” she asks, her blue eyes sparkling in the dim lighting.
“I wanted to move back home. The training facility is halfway between Sublime and Branston, so it’s not really out of the way.”
“So, it had nothing to do with me?” she asks, batting her eyelashes with the joke.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But I can tell you one thing for certain. You’re the reason I bought my house. As soon as Candi Chetworth told me you lived next door, I was sold. I refused to look at anything else.”
“Really?” she asks, her eyes widening in surprise.
“Really,” I say, my voice deepening.
Roxy arrives with our food, so the conversation is put on hold. She sets a steaming plate of lasagna in front of Tessa before placing my bowl of salad with grilled chicken in front of me. She refills our drinks and asks if we need anything else before taking her leave.
Tessa and I eat in silence for a few moments, then she sighs. When I shoot her a questioning gaze, she shrugs.
“I feel bad eating this cheesy, gooey goodness while you’re stuck eating rabbit food.”
“There’s chicken in here,” I say, stabbing a piece with my fork and holding it up. She shoots me a bland look, and I laugh. “Eat up. You’re going to need the energy.”
“For what?” she asks, taking a big bite.
“You’ll see,” I tease, waggling my eyebrows.
“More dessert?” she asks.
“Definitely.”
I slide my foot forward, tapping it against hers. She grins and takes another big bite, chewing with gusto before washing it down with a sip of her tea. Setting the glass down, she pins me with those gorgeous blue eyes.
“I’m glad you got the trade and moved back home, Riggs.”
I return her smile. “Me, too, Tessa. Me, too.”