“My lady has prepared a special treat for me?” I tease, smiling with intrigue heavy on my tongue. “Fuck yeah, I'm up for it.”
All kidding aside though, what the fuck could she have planned?
Riley doesn't react to the lady this time. Not with her round eyes or her sweet restrained giggle. She just rolls with it, concentrating on the road ahead and only giving me a slight jerk of her shoulder in response.
“I just know you've been going a little crazy being stuck at home,” she says, most likely referring to the fort I made yesterday on the couch using a blanket and my crutches. “You've only been out for doctor appointments and now this. And I knew today was going to be tough. So I thought maybe we could go do something fun. Maybe.” Her profile tightens. “I don’t know. I'm not one hundred percent sure if this is fun or not. I've never done it before, but I thought you might like it. I hope you like it.” She clears her throat and slides her hands around the wheel. I watch her fingers tap restlessly against the leather. She's fidgeting.
“Relax, darlin',” I say, wanting to ease her nerves a little. “You took the time to plan this out. Put some thought into it. Rest assured, whatever it is, I'm going to like it. Trust me.” She turns her head and gives me an easy smile. Getting that, I inquire further. “Seriously, what it is? What'd you plan?”
Riley shakes her head, then puts her eyes back on the road. “It's a surprise.”
I rub at my mouth and jaw, a smile forming behind my hand. I turn to look out the windshield.
A surprise from Riley Tennyson. Well, fuck me.
This should be good.
“Dumb?” Riley asks after shifting into park and looking over at me, wincing as though she knows I'm going to fucking hate this.
What is she, crazy?
“Dumb?” I echo. My eyes jump between her face and the windshield where I look at the building we're parked in front of. “Your special treat is taking me to a pistol range?”
She winces. “Yes?”
“Are you for real?” I ask her, pointing at my chest. “Me, a guy who wanted to be a cop his entire fucking life, made guns out of everything laying around my house growing up and couldn't fucking wait ‘til I was old enough to hold a real one. You're asking if bringing me here is dumb? Babe,” I give her a look, “honest, if I wasn't worried I'd completely fuck up my leg permanently, I'd be running inside that building right now, carrying your sweet ass and hollering about how you’re the shit for bringing me here. Straight up, this is awesome.”
A smile starts in one corner of Riley’s mouth and twists across to the other, stretching wide. “Well, I guess that means we won’t be needing my back-up plan then,” she says, cutting the engine and then leaning back in her seat. She lifts her hips to tuck her keys into her front shorts pocket.
“Which was . . .”
“A rubdown.”
My brows raise. Riley starts giggling, pressing her fingertips to her mouth.
I bite back a grin, which is really fucking hard considering how sweet she looks right now teasing me, and feign disinterest. “Nah, this is better. I’m sure I’d hate every second of that. I can barely tolerate a sponge bath from you.”
She lowers her hand and narrows her eyes.
Riley isn’t buying the shit I’m saying, and she shouldn’t. I’m lying out of my ass right now.
“Oh, really? You hate those?” she questions, disbelief in her voice.
“Twenty minutes of absolute torture,” I reply, keeping up the charade. “You’re so rough about it, and I’m a delicate man. Light, soothing touches only.” I flatten my hand to my chest. “My heart isn’t the only fragile thing about me, Riley. All of me needs to be nurtured.”
“Oh, my God.” She shakes her head through a laugh before turning away to open her door.
“I know you see all these muscles and think, my, God, he can handle anything, but really, babe, I’m sensitive. Don’t let all this bulk fool you,” I add as she climbs out of the car.
“Then maybe we need to quit with the sponge baths since I’m not doing it right,” she suggests.
I lean over the console so she can see my face from where she’s standing. “Hey, I didn’t say that. Quitters never learn, babe. And I’m patient man. I’m willing to teach you how I like to be touched.” I smirk, adding, “It’ll probably take hours of instruction. And I’ll, of course, need to touch you. This will be a hands-on process. Very hands on.”
Riley’s cheeks burn hot.
And really, I can't help myself at this point.
“We won't stop until we're both satisfied,” I promise.
Her eyes flicker wider. Then she slams the car door, turns on her heel, and moves hastily toward the front of the building, leaving me laughing in the car.
“Well shit, look who it is.”
I shake the hand Zeke is holding out for me, greeting him. “How’s it going, man? How you been?”
Zeke is the owner of Heep Pistol Range. He’s a retired Army Sergeant who is always doing stuff for the community and finding ways to support the local police and fire departments. He's a standup guy. I’ve known him for years.
“Good. Can’t complain,” he replies, running a hand over his short gray hair before grabbing his hips. He lifts his chin at me. “How are you feeling? I heard about what happened. How long are you gonna be laid up for?”