27. He’s Scored
27
Tessa
It’s kind of a slow morning at Beans & Books, and for once, I don’t mind the lack of business. I’ve been distracted for the last few days, unable to get my last encounter with Riggs out of my head.
As much as I’ve tried to compartmentalize it and label it as “just sex,” I can’t push away the feeling that the other night was different from before. It was special.
Even though neither of us were virgins, we both popped our cherries, so to speak, by having sex with no condom. A first for both of us, it was incredible. Mind-blowing.
And it felt like making love.
Does that mean I love him? No. That would be ridiculous, right?
I thought I loved him as a teenager, but I know that was just puppy-love. My first taste of romance and lust. Then after the truth––or what I thought was the truth––came out, I hated him. For years.
But now? Now, I have no fucking clue how I feel.
I like him. He makes me laugh, has a sweet side I never expected, and the sex is un-fucking-believably good. I’ve never had a man turn me on as quickly and devastatingly as Riggs does, and I’ve certainly never been with anyone as dedicated to making sure I derive the utmost pleasure from our encounters.
There’s no denying our chemistry. But sizzling chemistry does not equate to love. At least, I don’t think it does.
My heart flutters in my chest as I consider the possibility that I might be falling for Riggs. I gave him my heart once, and it ended in disaster. And that was when we were only kids.
What consequences will I reap if I so foolishly give it to him again, as an adult?
I shake my head and get back to cleaning the counter. I need to stop thinking so much. What happened between us all those years ago is water under the bridge. I now know much of what I believed was false, and even though our relationship back then started with a bet, it ended with real heartbreak for both of us. He never meant to hurt me. Of that much, I’m sure.
The bells hanging over the door jingle, and I call out a greeting as I look up. A man in a navy-blue jumpsuit backs in through the doorway pulling a metal dolly stacked with cardboard boxes. Once he clears the opening, he maneuvers his load around to face me and sets the stack of boxes on the floor before sliding the dolly from beneath it.
My eyes widen when I see the small holes punched into the sides of the boxes above large block lettering that reads, “Live Animals.”
“What is this?” I ask as I drop my cleaning towel and round the bar to approach him.
I freeze when a distinct rattling sound emerges from inside the top box, then stumble back a step. The delivery guy hurries toward me with a device that looks like an oversized phone, keeping one eye on the boxes as he hands it over and demands a signature.
I hold up my palms in refusal. “No way. There’s obviously been a mistake. I’m not signing for this. Are those rattlesnakes?”
“Are you Tessa White, owner of Beans & Books?” he asks, reading from the screen of his handheld device.
“Yes?” I ask, the answer coming out more like a question than a reply.
“No mistake. This shipment is for you. Can you please sign so I can get back to work?”
“No. Fucking. Way. Take those with you,” I say.
We’re both being rude to each other out of fear, but neither of us seem to mind as we stare at the boxes with matching expressions of distress. The rattling noise picks up again, and the guy looks at me, down to the waiting device, then back to me again. Then he shrugs, mumbles something under his breath, gives me a little salute, and shuffles away, giving the boxes a wide berth as he grabs his dolly and leaves.
“Seriously?” I call out after him.
I look around the shop to find my few customers staring at the boxes with dismay from the relative safety of their tables.
“Everything is going to be okay,” I call out with a nervous chuckle.
I drag my feet as I slowly approach the delivery. My heart jumps into my throat as the rattling begins anew, and I attempt to swallow it back down as I take a small step closer. I don’t know what I plan to do, but I hope the fucking lids on the boxes are secure enough to contain the beasts within until I can figure something out.
I spot a red envelope taped to the lid of the top box, my name written in a slanted, masculine script. My hand shakes violently as I reach for it. The rattling sound ceases once more, giving me the courage to lunge forward and snatch the envelope off the box before stumbling back several feet.
I violently rip open the envelope, intent on finding out who sent me God damned rattlesnakes and why. My eyes widen as I read the note, my heartbeat slowing a bit when I see the signature at the bottom.
Dear Tessa,
Gotcha!
Love, Riggs
P.S. It’s just a recording. I promise. Open the boxes.
I look back at the boxes again with narrowed eyes. I shuffle closer, still intimidated by the fresh round of rattling despite knowing this whole scene is Riggs’ most recent attack in our prank war. I tilt my head, realizing that despite there being a stack of four boxes marked as “Live Animals,” only the top box has sound coming from it. My eyes fall closed, and I heave a sigh.
“It’s just a prank,” I call out, hoping to ease my customers’ fears as they watch me with wide eyes.
To prove it, I move forward confidently and rip the lid off the top box. Inside is a digital recorder with a red bow tied around it. Plucking it out, I hold it up for the others to see before pressing the button to turn it off. A few chuckles echo around me, but I barely hear them as I peer down at the remaining contents of the box.
Reaching inside with both hands, I pull out a stack of books. Carrying them to the counter, I set the stack down and slowly shuffle through the volumes. Hardback editions of beloved classics. Paperback copies of bodice-ripper romances.
And everything in between.
Leaving the treasures on the counter, I hurry back and push the empty box to the floor. Snatching the lid from the next one, I see more of the same. Hefting it up, I set it on the floor and check the third box. This one has hardback copies of several books on the most current nationwide bestseller’s list.
Picking one at random, I lift it close to my face and fan the pages to smell the fresh paper and ink. Stumbling backward, I plop into a chair at the nearest empty table and stare at the scattered boxes with unseeing eyes.
Riggs bought me enough books to fill all the empty spaces in my shop’s library. Disguised as a prank, he’s given me something utterly priceless and more precious than words can convey.
My lips turn up as tears sting at the corners of my eyes. I can’t believe he did this. How did he even know I was in desperate need of books for my shelves? Did he notice when he came by to see me?
A memory tickles my mind, and I latch onto it. We were talking about the season tickets he gave me as a thank you for not releasing the video I took, and I teased that I was going to sell them to buy books for the coffee shop.
He obviously remembered. He filled the need and fooled me with what is, in hindsight, a hilarious prank. A small, teary laugh bursts through my lips. He’s scored some big points for this one.
I might not be in love with Riggs Malone yet, but he’s on the fast track to stealing my heart.