Rating the Book Boyfriend (Book Boyfriend Builders)

7. Riggs

CHAPTER 7

Riggs

“ A fternoon, Joe!” I call, and the old man turns his head slightly, his dark-brown eyes finding mine before returning to his binoculars.

“Come aboard, Romero.”

I let Ace go first and then climb onto the light-blue fishing boat. “What are you looking for? Are there storms coming?”

He shakes his head as one hand drops to pet my dog’s head. “No, pterodactyls.”

“Ah. That was my second guess.”

Joe is undeterred by my sarcasm. “Everyone thinks those dinosaur movies are fiction, but every bit of fiction is based in fact. I saw on the internet where two of them had escaped.”

My eyes follow the horizon, though I know with reasonable certainty I won’t be seeing any prehistoric creatures flying around. I simply love looking out where the vast sea meets the even more vast sky. It’s humbling and reminds me just how small I am in the grand scheme of things. How small my problems are.

“Any luck yet?”

He lowers the binoculars and lets out a sigh. “Naw. What can I do you for today?” Turning toward me, he smiles with teeth that are surprisingly white compared with the rest of his grizzled appearance. A full, gray-and-black beard lines the bottom of a face that’s weathered from age and the sun.

“I need to borrow a vessel tomorrow.”

“You takin’ clients out?”

“No. She’s not a client.”

He lifts an overly furry eyebrow. “Lady friend?”

“She’s a lady, and she’s a friend, so yes.”

Joe smiles again. “Course you can. You’re part owner of this place, after all.”

“I’m not part owner, Joe. I just loaned you some money.”

“Whatever. You want to go out for a bit? I got some new cigars and a cooler full of beer.”

I reach down and rub Ace’s head. “Hey, boy. You want to go on a boat ride?”

His happy yip is all the answer I need.

“Hey! Am I late?” Libby asks as soon as she’s out of her vehicle on Saturday morning.

“Two minutes early, actually,” I let her know. Not that I was excited to see you or anything.

“Okay, good. I’ve gotten everything unpacked except the box with my sunglasses. I had to dig for them.”

“You’re unpacked already? You only moved in a couple days ago.”

“I’m a very organized person,” she says, hitching a soft leather briefcase thing with a long strap over one shoulder and a yellow-and-white striped beach bag over the other.

“I think you mentioned that before.”

The sun hasn’t risen yet, but Libby is lit by the pole lights in the small parking lot beside Joe’s Marina. She’s wearing a white sleeveless tee with a bright graphic beach design on the front, yellow flip-flops, and short denim cutoffs. Very short. Not that I’m looking.

“Are you sure I don’t need to bring snacks?” she asks, her long, blonde ponytail bouncing as she walks across the parking lot toward me.

“Nope. Everything is provided.” Just as I’m about to ask her if she minds Ace going with us, the crazy mutt bounds from the small office. “Ace, no!” I call sharply, but it’s too late. He’s on Libby, but to my surprise, she doesn’t seem to mind.

Dropping her bags, she squats and opens her arm to receive all sorts of doggy loving. “Well, hellooooo, big boy? What’s your name?” she croons, and the dog goes nuts, wagging his tail and wriggling his body in excitement at finding a new human.

“His name is Ace, and he’s a tad overexuberant,” I say dryly, striding the few feet to try and extricate my buddy from poor Libby. I reach for his collar, but he ducks me and licks the woman from her neck to her cheek. “Ace, cut it out you big oaf.”

“Hims not an oaf is hims?” she asks in a baby voice, finding Ace’s sweet spot with ease and rubbing up and down the sides of his furry neck. “No, hims a sweet fluffernugget.”

I laugh and stop trying to pull my dopey pooch away. Libby seems to be a dog person. “Did you just call my dog a fluffernugget?”

“Of course,” she says, sparing me a glance before turning her attention back to Ace. “He’s fluffy, and he’s just a big nugget of sweetness. Please tell me he’s coming with us.”

A grin rips across my face. “I was going to ask you if that was okay. If not, he can go out with Joe this morning.”

Libby kisses the top of Ace’s head. “I’d love for him to go with us.” The fluffernugget takes that opportunity to stick his nose directly in Libby’s crotch.

Goddammit.

I open my mouth to apologize, but Libby giggles and stands, casting a look in my direction. “You didn’t tell me your dog was a player, Romero.”

“I’m sorry. You’ve only been here a few minutes, and you’ve already been licked and molested.”

“Sounds like a good morning to me,” she says with a cute wink. “Most action I’ve had in a while.”

Fuck me.

My flag rises right up the old flagpole at the thought. Luckily, Libby doesn’t notice because Joe walks out of the office and calls out a greeting as I spread my legs to make room. She smiles at the grizzled old man.

“Well, Romero, you didn’t tell me your friend was such a looker. I’d have worn my good bibs,” he says, slowing his pace as he hooks his thumbs in the straps over his shoulders. “Name’s Joe O’Connell, pretty lady. What’s yours?”

“Her name is stop flirting, old man ,” I interrupt, though there’s no heat behind my words.

Libby laughs and holds out a hand. “I’m Liberty Hill, but you can call me Libby.”

“Well, people call me Joe or Crusty Joe, but you can call me sweetheart, if the fancy hits ya.” Instead of shaking her hand, Joe kisses the back of it.

Good grief… this guy…

“I’ll call you Joe and reserve the right to call you sweetheart until after our second date,” she says, flirting right back at the old codger.

He cackles before releasing her hand and turning to me. “Romero, I’m thinking of taking down that pine tree in my backyard. Think you could come over and give me a hand tomorrow?”

I frown. “Is there some kind of damage to it or something?”

Joe darts his eyes between me and Libby, leans close, and lowers his voice. “I heard they’re putting listening devices in the pinecones.”

“Who?” Libby whispers, and Joe widens his eyes.

“You know, them .”

“Ah,” Libby says, not missing a beat. “If you think it’s just the pinecones on the ground, why don’t you toss them in the ocean? Nothing to hear down there. Then you don’t have to chop down your tree.”

Joe’s eyebrows crunch together, which makes him appear as though he has two caterpillars wrestling on his forehead. “That’s not a bad idea. Hey, have you heard about the pterodactyl situation?”

And off he goes, telling Libby all about the dinosaur population they are keeping on a remote island in an undisclosed location. She nods along politely, and when he’s done, she says, “You know what the smart thing to do would be? They should keep the dinosaurs on something like a space station. That way no one could accidentally discover them.”

Joe’s eyes widen like it’s the best idea he’s ever heard. “That’s not half bad. I’ll pass that along to my contacts.” And with that, he wanders back toward his office.

“You handled that well,” I tell her, picking up her satchel and looping it over my shoulder as we walk toward the docks with Ace trotting merrily beside us. “It was very kind of you to indulge him.”

“You mentioned he was eccentric, and most eccentric people are that way for a reason.”

“Very astute, and you’re not wrong.” As we approach, I gesture to the first two pale-blue boats, named Stella and Hannah . The crews are working to prepare the vessels for the day, and several wave in greeting. “Stella was Joe’s wife, and Hannah was his daughter. They died in a car crash when Hannah was ten.”

“Oh no,” Libby whispers.

“I was a teenager when it happened, and I felt so bad for him, so I’d drop by to check on him. We’d go out on the boat because that was the only place he found any peace.” I glance down at the woman beside me to find her with her hand over her heart and tears in her eyes. “Sometimes he talked about them, and sometimes we just cruised in silence. But he’d always let me have one cigar as long as I promised not to tell my parents.”

She lays a hand on my forearm, and my skin heats from her soft touch. “That was nice of you to visit with him. Even when he didn’t talk, I know it was a comfort to have you there.”

“Joe floundered for the longest time, and then he discovered the internet. That’s when he started…” I wave a hand back in the direction of the office, “you know, doing the whole conspiracy thing. It seemed to give him some kind of purpose or something. I’m not sure how to explain it, but it brought him back to life a bit. People call him crazy, but Joe isn’t crazy. His mind is sharp, and he’s just doing the best he can.”

Libby’s hands ball into fists. “You let me hear someone say that about him. I’ll break their nose.”

I resist the urge to put my arm around her and pull her into my side. She’s just so fucking sweet. “I’ve threatened a few people with that a time or two myself.”

We continue walking along the dock, and Libby says, “I really like Joe, and he’s such a gentleman. He kissed the back of my hand. Do you know how rarely that happens these days?”

We stop beside the third blue boat, The Dreamboat, and I say, “Liberty Hill, I’m pretty sure you’re the kind of woman who deserves to have her hand kissed every single day.”

As Darryl, The Dreamboat ’s captain for the day, cruises through the open waters of the Gulf of Mexico, Libby sits beside me and begins pulling folders from her satchel. The sun has yet to make its daily appearance, but Libby’s movements are lit by a light on the side of the center console of the boat. Ace is up front, his paws on the bow as his ears blow back in the wind. The pooch is in his happy place.

“I thought we could go ahead and look over the paperwork so we can fish later,” Libby says.

“Sounds good to me. That’s, um, a lot of folders. I didn’t know I was that terrible.”

She laughs. “I’m sure you’re not. This is just my system. Ah, here’s the one.” Around twenty folders in a rainbow of colors rest on her thighs, but she opens a navy-blue one. “This one contains your paperwork to fill out.”

My eyes practically cross at all the boxes on the first page. The spreadsheet is titled “Book Boyfriend Ratings” and features a series of headings down the left side and numbers from one to ten across the top.

“Now, on the sheets behind this one, I have a detailed list of things every book boyfriend needs to know. Not every single one will be relevant to every couple, so don’t worry if it’s not something that pertains to you and Lucinda. You won’t be rated on those.”

“Um, okay.”

“You can read through those when you get home. Next time we meet, we can go over them in more detail, or you can text me if you have questions about any of them.”

“Sure,” I say, a little speechless at the thickness of the folder. My eyeballs hang on the last row of the spreadsheet. “Dirty talking?” I tap a finger on the words.

“Oh yes. Don’t let that one intimidate you. Dirty talk is a key component of being a book boyfriend, but I’m not going to make you say anything uncomfortable out loud to me. On page forty-two, there’s a form for you to fill out. Next time you and Lucinda are intimate, take note of the things you say. Then, when you have time, fill in the form with what you said and her responses to it.”

“I, uhhh, I think I’m good in that department.” What the fuck? Am I blushing?

She smiles indulgently. “I’m sure you’re excellent, but how can I rate you on it if you don’t fill out the form?”

“I… don’t know.”

“You don’t have to feel embarrassed with me, Riggs. You’ve read my books. I’m obviously a huge fan of dirty talking. And you don’t have to be ashamed of any kinks you enjoy. In fact, the kinkier, the better. I’m all in for whatever.”

She pats my knee, and if she moves her hand up a few inches, she will feel exactly what this conversation is doing to me. And why the nickname Rocket Romero wouldn’t have been off base at all.

She’s all in for whatever? Christ. I try to push away the carousel of thoughts that evokes. Long legs wrapped around my head. Blonde hair fisted in my hand. Slender hands cuffed to my bed. I can practically hear the headboard smashing into the wall inside my head.

To be honest, it’s been a while since I’ve heard that sound. Years, in fact. Lucinda is… I think the term we’re looking for here is vanilla .

“I’ll fill it out,” I croak. My throat is completely dry because all the liquid in my body has migrated south. Shifting a little, I cover the evidence with the folder, but Libby doesn’t seem to notice. In fact, she’s flipping through pages and tapping on various things I can no longer comprehend because she’s fucking tapping on my dick!

After god knows how long, I’m aware that she’s stopped talking, and I worry that she asked me some question I didn’t hear. But her face is turned to the side, giving me a glimpse of a profile with high cheekbones and a pert nose.

“Wow,” she breathes, and I follow her gaze to the eastern horizon. Wow, indeed.

I motion to Darryl, and he cuts the exterior lights on the boat’s console, bathing us in darkness.

In the distance, the sky is melting upward, away from the water, a thin line of dark purple that fades oh so slowly as we watch in silence. The purple turns into blue, which morphs into a dusky pink, and then finally a soft yellow.

The sunrise over the Gulf is one of my favorite things in the world to watch, but my eyes seem to gravitate from that awe-inspiring sight to another that’s just as beautiful. Libby’s face is radiant, her lips slightly parted as if she wants to say something but is simply too overwhelmed.

She enjoys this as much as I do.

“I feel so small right now,” she finally says, her voice a mere whisper.

“No matter how many times I watch this, I always have the same thought.”

Her face turns to me, and our eyes lock, my blue ones to her hazel ones, only inches apart. Flecks of green sparkle like emeralds in her irises as the sun continues to ascend without our noticing.

“I’ve watched sunrises before but never from this perspective. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I agree,” I say, my voice low and dark, and I know in my heart I’m not talking about what’s happening in the sky.

The moment is interrupted by Darryl poking his head out the door of the cabin, and we jerk apart.

He has dark skin and keeps his hair shorn high and tight, reminiscent of his days in the U.S. Marine Corps. Darryl is always steady and calm, excellent traits for a boat captain.

“This looks like a good place, Riggs. Gonna drop the anchor.”

I’m kinda annoyed at the man right now, while at the same time, I’m grateful for his intrusion. I think I was heading into dangerous territory there for a minute.

“Thanks, Dare,” I manage to say. I’m about to ask Libby if there’s more we need to talk about, but she’s already stuffing the folders and papers back into the satchel, her excitement for the day evident in her quick movements.

“What are we fishing for?” she asks, her tone vibrating as I place her satchel inside so it doesn’t get ruined.

“Flounder and snapper should be good around here,” Darryl answers before calling Ace into the cabin with him. The big doofus dog likes to bark at the fish when they’re flopping around on the deck.

I start gathering the appropriate rods and bait and glance up at Libby. “I’ll bait your hooks for you so you don’t get dirty.”

“Screw that,” she says with a grin, waggling her fingers at me. “A little fish guts never hurt a girl.”

Wow. I’m kinda blown away right now.

If I wasn’t stuck in my current situation, I think I could really fall for this woman. But I am… so I can’t.