Rating the Book Boyfriend (Book Boyfriend Builders)

4. Riggs

CHAPTER 4

Riggs

I go off on an anger-fueled rant. “I can’t believe this shit. Book Boyfriend Builders.” That comes out as a sneer. “Who the hell ever thought that was a good idea? It’s honestly probably the dumbest business I’ve heard of since that social media network for imaginary friends.”

Tapping on the About Us page, I glance up at Libby to see if she’s going to crack a well-deserved joke about this idiocy. Her face looks stricken, her normally almond-shaped eyes going round, and I scramble back in my brain to see what I possibly could have said to upset her.

“Oh my god, do you have imaginary friends? Because, you know, that’s totally cool if you do. I had one when I was little. He was a mouse named Carbonara.”

She swallows hard and shakes her head vigorously. “No, no imaginary friends.”

Something on my phone screen seems to have some kind of magnetic pull that forces me to look down. And I see a face. I look back up at Libby and see the same face. My eyes flicker so quickly I’m afraid I may give myself a seizure. Phone… Libby… phone… Libby.

I repeat that cycle about forty-seven times in the five seconds it takes for reality to click into place.

Well. Fuck.

“Libby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean what I said. That was just the surprise talking.”

The smile she puts on her face looks completely forced, her lips trembling a bit, and I feel like the biggest asshole on the planet. “No, it’s okay. It is a pretty dumb idea.”

I have to agree, but fuck. She looks like she’s about to cry. “No, it’s really not. It’s… unique. I just… I’m sorry. I think I was reacting poorly because maybe I was a little offended that my girlfriend thinks I’m not a good boyfriend.”

“That’s understandable,” she says sweetly, though the look on her face makes me want to rip out my own tongue. “We were drunk when we came up with the idea, and it’s… you know what? I think I’ll go to the restroom before we board.”

And with that, she hops up and practically sprints to the restroom across from our gate.

Well, Riggs. You fucked that up.

Taking a deep breath, I look back down at my phone and begin reading about the business. As I let my mind process it, I can kinda see where they’re coming from.

I mean, it’s still the wackiest damn thing I’ve ever heard of, but I’m ashamed I hurt Libby’s feelings. She’s so funny and has such a kind heart.

So I do the only thing I can. I click on the Select Your Coach button and choose Libby Cox.

Libby is quiet when she returns from the restroom and loops her backpack straps over her shoulders.

“Thanks for talking with me on the plane. It was really nice to meet you, Riggs.” Her smile is tight and doesn’t reach her eyes. I hate that.

“Libby,” I say, wrapping my hand gently around her wrist as she turns to walk off. “Please sit. I wasn’t done groveling.”

She cracks a small smile. “It’s okay. You don’t have to grovel. Like I said, we were snockered when we set all that up. I don’t blame you for thinking it’s crazy.”

“No, really. I read more about it, and I’ve changed my opinion.”

“In the five minutes I was in the restroom?” she asks flatly, and I nod.

“I chose you as my coach.”

Her hand covers her face, and she sinks into the chair beside me. At least she’s not leaving. Yet. “Nooo, please tell me you didn’t do that.”

“I did. Liberty, can you please uncover your eyes and look at me?”

“The magic eight-ball says not at this time .”

God, she’s fucking funny.

“Okay, just listen then. I’ve read all your books, and the way you write your male characters… I don’t know… it just speaks to me. I’ve always thought I would love to be the kind of man you write about.”

She separates two fingers and peeps through them with one eye. “You’ve read my books?”

“I have. And now I have the chance to improve myself, to be a better boyfriend. I mean, I do my best, but no one is perfect. I’m hoping you can help me.”

Pulling her hand away, she wrinkles her brow. “Are you trying to become the teacher’s pet?”

“Most definitely,” I assure her. “I will be your most dedicated student, and I plan to earn all the gold stars you’ll give me.”

Her genuine smile makes an appearance, and the tension in my shoulders relaxes.

An announcement is made for first-class passengers to board. Once on the plane, I assist a tiny elderly lady—who informs me her name is Tillie—with getting her bag into the overhead compartment.

Tillie has the aisle seat beside Libby, but when she catches me staring at the pretty blonde, she whispers, “Would you like to switch seats with me?”

“Yes, please,” I say gratefully, and she pats my chest.

“Good luck, handsome. That young lady is very lucky. If I were ten years younger, I’d throat punch someone to sit beside a big hunk like you.”

I chuckle and thank her, neglecting to mention that she’d have to be closer to forty years younger before we’d even be close to an appropriate match. Feeling happier than I have any right to be, I settle in beside Libby for the two-and-a-half-hour flight.

“I guess since we’ll be working together, I probably need to ask where you live,” Libby says, working on her third packet of cookies.

How the hell does she stay in such good shape with the way she eats? Not that I’m complaining. I love seeing a woman enjoy her food.

“I live in Mexico Beach.”

“Oh. That’s not far from Port Saint Joe.”

My heart rate picks up a notch. “You live in PSJ? That’s only twelve miles from me.”

“No. Well, yes, I guess. I’m in Panama City Beach now, but as of tomorrow, I’m moving to Port Saint Joe.” She sets down her empty cookie package and picks up her phone. “That reminds me. I need to rent a U-Haul. I keep forgetting to do that.”

She taps around on her phone for a minute and then scowls. “Why isn’t this stupid wi-fi working?”

“I have a truck,” I blurt out. “How much stuff do you have?”

“Um, I have a couch and some boxes. I plan to shop for more stuff once I get settled in a bit.”

“I’ll come help you.” I’m not sure why I say that. It just flies out of my mouth.

“You don’t have to do that, Riggs.”

“I know I don’t, but I already have the day off work because I was planning to travel home tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” I say definitively. “We can probably make it in one trip.”

With that decided, she gives me her address in Panama City Beach, and I tap it into my phone.

By the time we arrive at the airport in Florida, I’m utterly charmed by Liberty Hill. She’s funny, sweet, and obviously beautiful.

I only wish my life was different.