“Ignore him,” Wills says. “He’s an obnoxiously happy drunk.” And it’s then that he gets a closer look at me and his eyes shock open when he recognizes me from the track. Or the bar. He might be slow on at least one of them. “Holy shit. You’re—” “Mine,” Riggs says, shoving him playfully in the chest and stepping in between Wills and me. He lets out a big sigh as his gaze lands on my lips and then grins. “Hi again.”
