Page 6 of Riggs
She glances toward Riggs. Her brows rise, curiosity flaring. “Is this your…new boyfriend?”
Riggs stiffens slightly next to me. My heart skips. I’ve been asked that question countless times—usually about some assistant or random guy who’s stepped into the frame—but right now, it feels loaded. His hand is still pressed lightly against my lower back, and the contact feels undeniably personal.
I don’t want to alarm fans about the real reason for his presence, so I react on instinct. “Yep,” I say cheerfully, giving Riggs a teasing look. “Brand new. Isn’t he cute?”
The fan blushes, nodding enthusiastically. “Totally! You guys make a great couple.”
Riggs’s eyes meet mine, dark and unreadable. “Thanks,” he says gruffly, voice low enough to send a delicious shiver up my spine.
Once we’re through security, I glance sideways. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be.” Riggs shrugs, though his jaw tightens subtly. “It’s smart. Makes things easier.”
Easier? I doubt it. Pretending he’s my boyfriend already feels dangerously close to what I secretly want—real intimacy with a man who seems unreachable.
At the gate, we sit near the window. I steal glances his way, noticing again how undeniably handsome he is. His beard is thick, neatly trimmed, framing lips that rarely smile but turn devastating when they do. His eyes—dark chocolate—hold infinite secrets beneath their steady gaze. And those shoulders…I imagine gripping them, feeling that strength beneath my fingertips.
“You okay?” he asks quietly, noticing my staring.
“I’m good,” I reply quickly, heat flooding my cheeks. “Just tired.”
“Try to sleep on the flight. You’ll need energy for today’s itinerary.”
“Right. Seattle awaits.” I smile. “Coffee, rain, and whatever else.”
He nods, expression softening slightly. “We’ll get through it.”
The boarding call breaks our moment. Riggs keeps a protective hand close to my back again as we board, and this time I lean into it more deliberately, savoring the feel of his solid presence at my side. I wish I could know what he’s thinking, whether he feels any of this awareness or if it’s entirely one-sided.
We take our seats. Riggs is in the aisle, and I’m in the window seat. I immediately reach for my phone, snapping a quick selfie. He lifts a brow, skeptical. “Delayed post, remember?”
“Yes, boss,” I tease, nudging his arm. “Delayed.”
He shakes his head slightly, a hint of amusement behind his stoicism. I tuck the phone away and lean back, closing my eyes, feigning sleep. But my mind keeps replaying the feeling of his hand at my back, the low timbre of his voice, the way he watches me—alert, careful, and protective.
I turn toward him slightly, peeking beneath lowered lashes. His jaw is set, eyes scanning the aisle with careful precision. My heart thuds, because there’s something comforting and thrilling in how thoroughly he takes his job—how utterly capable he seems. I want more of him, to know what he’s like when he’s not scanning exits, or not standing guard.
When the plane finally takes off, the cabin quiet and lights dimmed, I lean slightly closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “Thank you, Riggs. For all of this.”
His eyes soften, turning to meet mine in the low light. “You don’t have to thank me. It’s my job.”
I smile softly. “Still. You make me feel safe.”
He hesitates, then nods gently. “Good.”
“You know…” I tease lightly, hoping to see that rare, tiny smile again, “if we’re going to pretend you’re my boyfriend, we might have to work on your charming small talk.”
He snorts softly, turning slightly toward me, closer now. “I’m security. Charming costs extra.”
My laugh comes out easier than it has in days. “I’ll take my chances.”
Our gazes linger a second too long, silence turning charged. He clears his throat, breaking the moment and glancing away. “Sleep. I’ll wake you when we land.”
I close my eyes obediently, though sleep feels impossible now. Awareness hums beneath my skin. Riggs might insist this is strictly professional, but there’s something here—I feel it every time he touches me, every time our eyes meet.
Maybe it’s dangerous, mixing attraction with necessity. But as I drift into a restless doze, I decide I’m okay with a little danger. After all, my life lately is one giant, unpredictable mess.
And right now, Andy Riggs is the only part of it that feels perfectly, dangerously right.
