Rating the Book Boyfriend (Book Boyfriend Builders)

5. Libby

CHAPTER 5

Libby

I hang around a coffee shop until after eleven, which is when Logan goes to bed, and then make my way to the house that will be my home for one more night.

Yes, I still live with my ex-boyfriend, which is just as awkward as it sounds, but I’ve gotten into the routine of not coming home until he’s asleep to avoid having to see him. The upside is that I’ve gotten a shit-ton of writing done while sitting in the coffee shop around the corner.

Pulling my suitcase into the living room, I don’t even bother to unpack. I’m moving tomorrow anyway.

Things haven’t been great between Logan and me since we moved to Florida a year ago; I felt us growing apart and didn’t know what the hell to do about it. But since he broke up with me two weeks ago, I felt like an unwelcome visitor in the place that was supposed to be my home.

A sense of relief trickles down my body like a warm shower at the thought of moving out of here. I unfold the blanket that’s waiting for me at the end of the couch and smile when my thoughts wander to Riggs.

He’s such a sweet guy, and it was really nice of him to offer to help me move. As I lay down on the couch with the flat, lumpy pillow Logan so graciously offered to let me use, I cover my body with the blanket and drift off to sleep with one thought in my head.

Too bad a nice guy like Riggs is already taken.

“Libby.”

I jerk awake at the sound of my name and look up to see Logan standing beside my makeshift bed, thumbs tucked into the pockets of his jeans.

“Yeah?” My voice is scratchy with sleep.

“You’ll be gone by the time I get home?”

I squint at his tall form, topped with sandy blond hair that I used to love running my fingers through. I should probably feel sad at the loss of our relationship, but all I can muster is disdain.

“Yes,” I sigh, sitting up and rubbing my hands over my face. “I’m going to my new place today.”

He just stands there without moving, eyebrows raised as if he’s waiting on something. When I lift one in return, he asks, “Aren’t you going to thank me for letting you stay here?”

With an incredulous gape of my mouth, I stare back for a long moment before gathering all the sarcasm in my chest. “Yes, Logan, thank you for allowing me the privilege of sleeping on my couch after you broke up with me without warning. Even though I paid my half of the rent, it was astoundingly kind of you to pretend to be a decent human being.”

His jaw tightens, and his eyes dart away for a few seconds, possibly due to guilt, if he’s even capable of that emotion. “You can leave the couch if you want, since you can’t move it by yourself.” I can hear the hope in his voice.

Oh, this fucker. The couch, which is the only piece of furniture I actually want from this house, is freaking gorgeous. The burgundy cushions are deep and soft but not squishy, and the surface is like butter on velvet, making it incredibly comfortable. It’s literally the most perfect couch I’ve ever seen.

There’s no way in hell Logan is getting my couch. Even if I didn’t have Riggs’s help, I would carry the damn thing on my back before I’d leave it here with this asshole.

“It’s no problem. Since you refused to help me move, I have someone else coming to help me.”

His brow furrows. “Who?”

“None of your business.”

“A guy?” I stand and begin folding the blanket, ignoring his question, and I can feel his indignation rising. “Are you dating someone?”

“Also under the heading of none of your business, ” I retort mildly. “Go to work, Logan.”

His annoyance is palpable, but I make a little shooing motion with one hand, and he finally exits through the front door without another word.

Asshole.

As I’m getting ready, I wonder, not for the first time, what’s wrong with Riggs Romero. Why did his girlfriend feel the need to sign him up for the Book Boyfriend Builders?

Aside from sticking his foot in his mouth about the BBB business, he was perfectly sweet and very easy to talk to yesterday. And I can’t see where any woman would have a single complaint about the man’s looks. He’s completely drool-worthy. There’s got to be something I’m missing.

After dressing, I pack up my toiletries and stow them in the box labeled bathroom before sealing it up. I still have about fifteen minutes before Riggs is scheduled to arrive, and I pull out my laptop and create a spreadsheet titled “Book Boyfriend Ratings.”

Hmmm, what should I put in each column? A few are obvious: attentiveness, sensitivity, flirting, protectiveness, romantic, complimentary, thoughtfulness, honesty. Tapping my lips with an index finger, I envision what I would like to have in a man, and then I smile and add two more columns: dirty talk and generous in bed.

Seriously, what kind of book boyfriend would he be if he didn’t have a mouth on him? I was tempted to add penis size, but I was pretty sure that wouldn’t be very professional.

Excuse me, sir, but I’m going to need you to drop your pants so I can rate your penis on a scale of one to ten. Or if your girlfriend is really lucky, on a scale of six to twelve.

Yeah, probably not the best idea.

Hearing a knock, I cross to the door and open it, trying to hold back my giddy smile when I find Riggs Romero standing there. With his jet-black hair, straight Roman nose, and piercing blue eyes, the man looks like a god among humans.

He’s tall, with broad shoulders and a trim waist, and his legs seem to go on for days. Muscular arms and legs are shown off by a tight white tank top and black athletic shorts with a white stripe down the sides. I do my best not to drool at the tattoos that cover his upper arms.

Riggs has the dark Italian looks of a wealthy mafia don, which is why most of the covers he graces are mafia or billionaire romances. He’s got brooding down to a science, but when he smiles like he’s doing right now? Good lord almighty, I’m not sure how my clothes haven’t completely melted from my body.

“Libby, you look great,” he says, glancing down at my butter-yellow tank and black Nike Pros. “Yellow is definitely your color.”

Well, he gets a ten so far in the compliments category.

“Come on in, and thanks for doing this. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you spending your day off helping some crazy lady you met on a plane.”

His laugh is low and deep and makes me have tingles in places I ought not think about. “Definitely better than going to work,” he says, entering the living room.

“You said you work for Mercato?” I ask, remembering our conversation from yesterday.

Riggs nods. “Yes, my grandfather, Luca, and his best friend, Salvatore Farina, emigrated to the U.S. in the sixties and started a single grocery store in Tallahassee. Then it grew into a chain from there. Sal’s son is currently the president of the company, and I’m the VP.”

“Oooh, look at you being all corporate,” I say, poking his bicep and practically breaking my finger in the process. Damn, that’s hard. I wonder what else is ? —

Stop it, Liberty Hill! He has a girlfriend!

His smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes as he runs a large hand through black hair that’s so thick, it should have its own zip code. “Yeah, it’s great.” He takes in the room, squinting at the light neon-green walls. “This is… lovely.”

“Oh, don’t even try to be nice. I wanted to paint the walls a kind of airy blue, but Logan insisted on green. I thought maybe a soft sage green wouldn’t be too bad, but then I came home to this.” I wave my hand around. “It’s like living in a giant Gatorade bottle.”

That makes him smile even wider, his straight, white teeth shining between lips most women would kill for. “It’s definitely bright. I’m pretty sure I now have retina damage,” he remarks before clapping his hands once. “So, put me to work, Liberty.”

For some reason, I like when he calls me that.

Gesturing toward the couch, I say, “Well, this is the only big thing. Everything else is packed in boxes.”

He bobs his head up and down, surveying the couch. “Okay, probably best to put this in the truck first, and then we can fit the boxes around it and in the back seat.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I say cheerily, picking up the blanket and pillow. “Let me just move my bedding.”

I carry it to the bedroom, and when I return, Riggs has a scowl on his face. “Did you sleep on the couch last night?”

“Yes, for the past two weeks, actually. I told you Logan and I broke up.”

Ice forms in his narrowed eyes. “He makes you sleep on the couch?”

“Well, I certainly wasn’t sleeping in the bed with his stupid ass,” I retort.

Riggs shakes his head in disgust. “Then he should have taken the couch.”

Patting his arm, I say, “That’s one of many reasons he’s a complete prick.”

We work together to get the couch into the back of the truck, and I almost trip over my own feet several times because I can’t stop ogling his bulging muscles. Then we begin loading the stuff I stored in the garage. After placing a heavy box of books in his backseat, Riggs lifts his shirt to swipe the perspiration beading on his forehead, and dear god in heaven!

I’m blessed with a full view of his torso, those tight, cut abs taking center stage. He has the perfect amount of dark hair, which tapers between his V lines and directly into the waistband of his shorts.

“Jesus, Riggs. Were you born or manufactured?” I ask, losing all filters at the sight of the most perfect male specimen I’d ever seen in person.

He chuckles and pats his flat stomach. “I try to keep in shape. No one wants a pot belly on their book covers.”

Movement catches my eye and pulls my pervy gaze from Riggs’s body.

Oh for Pete’s sake…

Logan’s white Prius pulls up at the curb, and my idiot ex steps out, his eyes darting from Riggs to his big, red Chevy truck in the driveway.

“What the hell is Logan doing here?” I mutter.

“Your ex?” Riggs asks in a low voice, and I nod.

“Hey, Libby. Who’s your friend?” Logan asks, strolling toward us with faux casualness. Why is he here? He never comes home for lunch.

As I open my mouth to speak, Riggs steps forward, extending a large hand. “Hi, I’m Cobra.”

Wait. What?

Logan’s forehead looks like fault lines are forming on his skin. “C-cobra?”

Riggs puts on a winning smile. “Yeah, Cobra McSnugglebuns.”

I have to slap my hand over my mouth and turn away to keep from laughing out loud.

Oh, but he’s not done. “Libby and I met at a club where I dance. We had a drink afterward, and she mentioned she was moving and didn’t have a man in her life who’s strong enough to move furniture, so I naturally volunteered.” He shoots me an affectionate smile that makes my vagina almost choke on thin air.

Seriously, how is he this hot and funny?

And taken, my mind reminds me.

“Cobra?” Logan repeats stupidly.

“Well, that’s my stage name. The manager of the club gave me the name after my audition.” Then he winks, and it takes the strength of a thousand men to keep me from doubling over with laughter.

After blowing out a stream of air through pursed lips, I manage to get hold of myself and ask, “Did you forget something, Logan?”

He finally seems to remember I’m there and turns his attention on me. “Yeah. No. I just, uh…”

“Did you come to help?” Riggs asks, and Logan shakes his head.

“No, I gotta get back to work. Libby, I just wanted to tell you that you can leave the key in the mailbox,” he says quickly before casting one more glance at Cobra McSnugglebuns and returning to his car.

I slowly turn my head and lift my eyebrows at the grinning man beside me. “You seem quite pleased with yourself, Mr. McSnugglebuns.”

“Most fun I’ve had in a while,” he says, “and we’re friends, Libby. You can call me Mr. Cobra.”

I follow Riggs in my Kia, and we make the drive to Port Saint Joe in a little over an hour.

“This is cute,” he says, after we carry my couch into the cozy living room and set it down.

My shoulders hunch up with excitement at the prospects. I adore this darling one-and-a-half-story bungalow and was shocked that I’d gotten such a good deal on the rent.

“My lease says I can paint the walls and hang stuff as long as I don’t make huge holes.”

With his hands on his hips, he surveys the living area. “What are you thinking as far as art? Like photos or paintings or what?”

“I want it to be a true beach house with local photos of the water and sunsets, stuff like that. I guess paintings would be okay too, but I really love photos.”

His eyes shift from side to side. “I think that would look great, but don’t buy any. I think I can hook you up.”

Despite me telling Riggs he can just leave the boxes on my wide front porch, he insists on carrying them inside and even takes each labeled box to its designated room. Chalking up bonus points for chivalry.

When we’re done, we collapse onto the steps leading down to the sidewalk. “Thank you so much for everything, Riggs. Will you let me treat you to an ice cream?”

He leans back on his hands, and I have to force myself not to look at the veins in his forearms. “I never turn down ice cream,” he says, “but I’ll buy.”

“Nope, not gonna happen,” I insist, standing and clapping him on the shoulder. “Let’s go, McSnugglebuns.”

“So what’s the plan for the BBB lessons?” Riggs asks around a mouthful of the salted caramel ice cream as we sit at a small, round table.

“Oh, you better shape up, mister. Coach Libby is a taskmaster.”

He laughs. “I’ll do my best, Coach. When do we get started?”

“I can meet with you on Saturday to go over my spreadsheets.”

Riggs pauses with his cone an inch from his lips. “You have spreadsheets?”

I swipe my tongue around the top scoop of my ice cream and don't miss how Riggs’s eyes follow the move. “I have spreadsheets and graphs as part of my rating system. I’m very… organized.”

“Will I be your first client?”

“Actually, I’m meeting my first client tomorrow. I’m going to work with you and her concurrently. But on different days of course.”

“Her?” he asks in confusion.

“Yes, she’s in a same sex relationship, and she messaged me personally and asked if I would be willing to take her on as a client. After messaging back and forth, I told her I’d be happy to. She sounds like she honestly just wants to be a better partner for her girlfriend.”

“That’s kinda cool. I assumed it would only be men.”

“I did too, but after thinking about it, don’t we all want the same things? It doesn’t matter if you’re a man or a woman. You want someone to be attentive, someone who treats you like you’re important to them.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek. “That does make sense.”

“I mean, I know our business is called the Book Boyfriend Builders, but I think it’s just as important for us to be good book girlfriends . Relationships are a two-way street, and men—no matter how strong they are—want to feel treasured too.”

His grin stretches across his entire face. “You’re pretty damn smart, Liberty Hill.”

I laugh and pat my hair. “Thank you, sir. Why don’t you tell me a little about you and your girlfriend. Lucinda, right?”

“That’s right. She’s thirty, and our families are in business together. She’s Salvatore’s granddaughter.”

“Oh, your grandfather’s best friend?” I ask, remembering his family’s story.

He nods and takes another lick of his ice cream. “Yes. We’ve known each other all our lives, but she asked me to go with her to a charity event a year ago, and we started dating after that. It made our families very happy.”

“What does Lucinda like to do?”

“Her favorite things are shopping and traveling,” he says with a chuckle.

“Where does she work?”

“She doesn’t really. Her mother owns a high-end boutique, and she helps out there sometimes.” Riggs rubs a hand through the scruff on his jaw. “What about you? What do you like to do?”

“I like being outdoors. I love spending time at the beach. The water soothes my soul.”

His face softens at that. “The water is my favorite place to be. If I could spend every day deep-sea fishing, I’d be the happiest guy in the world.”

“Oooh, I’ve been wanting to go on a deep-sea fishing trip, but I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

Riggs takes a bite of his waffle cone and leans back in his chair, his gaze contemplative. “I have a friend with a fishing charter business. We could have our first meeting on the boat on Saturday if you want. That is, if you don’t have other plans.”

“Seriously?” I squeal, wiggling in my chair. “That would be amazing.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “I’ve never seen a woman so excited about fishing.”

“My dad took me once when we were on a family trip to Galveston, and I’ve always wanted to go back. I think I was twelve.” A thought strikes me. “Wait, how much does it cost?”

“No charge. Joe lets me use one of the boats when I want to take business clients out.”

“For real?”

“Yep. Just a warning, the owner is a little… eccentric.” Riggs lifts one dark brow at me, as if expecting me to back out.

I don’t know what that means, but I bite my bottom lip in excitement and nod. “Consider me warned.”