Rating the Book Boyfriend (Book Boyfriend Builders)

8. Libby

CHAPTER 8

Libby

“ D o you know how to cast?” Riggs asks, and my mouth twists to the side.

“It’s been a really long time. I could probably use a refresher.”

His lips crook up on one side, and I wonder if he’s aware of how sexy that is. “No problem.” He holds up a rod that’s taller than he is and hands it over before turning me to face the water. “Now, hold it like this.”

Riggs steps up behind me, and though he’s not touching my body with his, I’m all too aware of his heat. He adjusts my hands and takes a couple minutes to instruct me on how to cast.

“Okay, here goes.” I pull the rod over my shoulder, grip the handle tightly, and sling forward. Or at least I try to. It doesn’t move. I give it another good yank, and Riggs lets out a yelp.

“Whoa, hold on, Libby. You got me.”

“What do you mean, I…” Realization strikes me, and my mouth falls open in horror. Dropping the rod, I duck under Riggs’s arm and circle around him as he leans over to grab the handle of the rod before it can splash into the water.

With him bent over the edge of the boat, I can clearly see the hook embedded in his backside. “Oh my god! Oh my god! I hooked your ass!”

I tug gently on the hook, and luckily, it appears as though I only hooked his shorts.

What happens next will forever be imprinted on the annals of my mind. For some reason, in my panic, I determine that it would be a fabulous idea to pull his pants down to check for damage.

I grip the waistband of his royal-blue swim trunks and tug downward until it’s resting below his buns—and if I may interject, they are a stellar set of buns—and look for any wounds.

In retrospect, when I found no injuries, I should have pulled his pants back up, but oh nooooo. Not me. I proceed to run my hands over both ass cheeks—quite thoroughly, I might add—to assure myself there are no imaginary fishhooks embedded in his buttocks.

And that’s when Darryl walks out onto the deck. “Hey, what’s all the yell—Oh.” He freezes and takes in the scene. Riggs bent over the boat. His bare ass exposed. My hands roaming all over said ass. Darryl studiously avoids my gaze and jerks a thumb back toward the cabin. “I’m just… yeah…” Then he sprints inside like a scalded dog.

“Um, Libby? Do you mind?”

I realize my fingers are digging into the fleshy man-meat of Riggs’s behind, and I slowly loosen my grip, trying to think of something— anything —to alleviate this awkwardness. So I begin babbling nonsensically. Because that’s always an outstanding idea.

“Welp, everything looks good back here. Your ass is fine. And I don’t mean it’s fine as in you have a fine ass , though you do. It’s a very fine ass. Probably the finest I’ve ever seen. Very tan. You must sunbathe naked. Not that I’m thinking about you naked. And there’s hardly any hair. Do you wax? Anyway, looking good in the buttocks region.”

As if that isn’t bad enough, I smack his right cheek twice before yanking his pants back up.

Mortified doesn’t even begin to cover what I’m feeling right now. Riggs leans the fishing rod against the boat and turns slowly, lifting one dark, stern eyebrow. But do I shut up? No, no, I most certainly do not.

“Look, I know that got awkward for a minute.”

His other eyebrow raises to the level of the first one.

“But the good news is that you don’t have to go to the hospital to get a fishhook out of your booty.” I do enthusiastic jazz hands and put on my brightest smile. “Yay for silver linings!”

The edges of Riggs’s lips curl up slowly until he has a full-fledged grin on his handsome face as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Liberty Hill, when you said earlier that you like kinky shit, is this what you were talking about?”

My eyes turn into dinner plates, and I slap a hand over my mouth, but I’m unable to contain the giggle that erupts from my lips. And in the next moment, we’re both laughing. Like, hysterical, hands-on-knees, barely breathing laughter.

“I can’t… believe… you spanked my ass,” Riggs gasps.

“Stop it,” I giggle. “I was trying to think of a way to wrap up the entire situation without making it weirder.”

“Oh, then that was definitely the way to go,” he commends sarcastically, still chuckling. He picks up the fishing rod and nods toward the cabin. “I’m gonna get Darryl to cut this hook out of my swim trunks. And try to explain what happened.”

“Poor man is probably traumatized.”

“Or he’s impressed with my very fine ass ,” he offers, sending my words back to me with a mischievous grin.

“Oh shut up,” I chastise, lightly shoving his shoulder.

We spend the next few hours fishing without further butt-groping incidents. Riggs caught more fish than me, but I caught the biggest, a red snapper he estimated to weigh over thirty pounds.

As we wipe the fish and squid guts from our hands, I decide it’s time to get back to work. “What kind of coffee does Lucinda drink?” I ask casually.

Riggs throws his wipe away and looks at me with confusion. “Venti iced skinny hazelnut macchiato with sugar-free syrup, light ice, and no whip,” he recites with ease.

“Wow, and I thought my coffee order was complicated.”

“What’s yours?”

“Macchiato with one cream and two-and-a-half sugars.”

He nods as he retrieves a basket and begins pulling out sandwiches and chips. “Why did you ask me that?”

“The other girls and I were talking about how a lot of men don’t pay attention to the little things like their women’s coffee order or favorite color. You’re already a step ahead.”

“Huh. Just seems like a normal thing to know. And her favorite color is white, in case you were going to ask that next.”

I grin. “I was.” Walking to the cooler that holds our drinks for the day, I open the lid. “Is it too early for beer?”

“Is it ever?”

Pulling out two Coors Lights, I take a seat on the deck in front of the spread. “This looks good. I’m starving.”

“Fishing is hard work,” Riggs comments, selecting a sandwich from the tray as I do the same.

Attempting to not stare at the way his strong jaw moves when he eats, I get back to business.

“You said Lucinda likes shopping. Do you go with her?”

He shakes his head. “No, she prefers to shop with her friends, so I got the bank to issue her a card from my bank account. She gets the best of both worlds, shopping with her friends while I pay from a distance.” He flashes me a chagrined smile. Wow, that’s… something.

“What about her favorite foods?”

“A mixed greens salad with two tablespoons of light Italian dressing,” he says without pause. “Always.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Riggs pauses with a chip halfway to his mouth. “What’s that look?”

“What look?”

“That uncomfortable look on your face.”

Damn, he really is perceptive. “I just feel a bit over the top right about now,” I say with a laugh. “Mine changes with my mood, and salad is no part of it. My comfort food is probably Oreos, but I love McDonald’s french fries with extra salt too. And shrimp. Any kind of shrimp.”

He tilts his bottle toward me. “I bet I can change your favorite food with one meal.” I lift my eyebrows at him. “I make the best red snapper you’ve ever eaten.”

“You cook?”

Nodding, he takes a long drink. “Yep, my Nana Viv taught me. If you want, I can cook that big boy you caught for our next meeting.”

He’s going to cook for me? “That sounds wonderful.”

I’m so impressed with this man, and I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Why did Lucinda sign him up for Book Boyfriend Builders? I read the application she filled out, and it was very vague, only stating that she wants her boyfriend to be “swoonier.”

Maybe he’s nice on the surface but acts like an ass to his girl in private.

“What’s the last gift you bought for Lucinda?”

Riggs swallows his food and says, “Diamond earrings I bought while I was in Colorado. I always bring her something back when I travel, but she’s not really into what she calls cheesy souvenirs . She says they’re cheap and stupid and she prefers jewelry, so that’s what I get her.”

I’m beginning to get the first inkling that maybe I don’t like this Lucinda chick very much. But it’s not my job to judge. It’s my job to make this swoony man somehow swoonier.

“That’s good, Riggs. It’s important to know your woman’s preferences.”

He smiles, but it seems forced. “Yeah, I try. I also brought my sister some earrings and a funny shot glass. She collects them.”

I lick my finger and make a tick mark in the air. “Bonus point for being sweet to your sister.” He laughs, and I say, “I collect magnets. When my dad would go away for work, he’d always bring me one from whatever state or city he went to. I still have all of them on my refrigerator.”

“It’s nice that you have those. What did your dad do?”

“Insurance sales. He only had to travel to conferences once or twice a year.”

Riggs’s smile is soft and kind. “Will you tell me about your parents? If it’s not too hard to talk about?”

We spend the rest of our meal talking about my family. We even discuss how my birth mother was a troubled young woman and ran away from home when she was eighteen, losing all contact with her family.

I know we’re supposed to be discussing him and Lucinda, but he just seems so interested, which is a nice change. I’m not sure Logan even knows my parents’ names.

Darryl pops his head outside, his eyes moving tentatively between us. Poor man’s probably afraid of walking out on a scene like the ass rubbing incident. “I’m going to move us to another location, if that’s all right with you, Riggs. We had some good luck there yesterday.”

“Sounds good, man. Thanks.” Riggs stands as the captain returns to his cabin. “Fuck it’s hot,” he says, reaching for the hem of his T-shirt. “Okay if I take this off?”

I barely hold back from screaming fuck yes, take it all off, big boy and manage to nod placidly. “Of course. I think I’ll take mine off too, if you don’t mind.”

His grin is positively wicked. “Don’t mind a bit, Liberty.”

Is he flirting with me? Surely not.

I pull off my shirt, which is now stained with squid ink from the cut bait, and stow it in my beach bag. Then I turn and catch my first look at Riggs in all his shirtless glory.

Dear god! The man should be illegal. Or at least come with some kind of advisory label.

Warning: Staring directly at a half-naked Riggs Romero could produce spontaneous orgasms, rebellious nipples, and embarrassing wet spots. Proceed with caution.

His chest and shoulders are broad and taper down to a trim waist. Thank god I have my sunglasses on because I’m openly staring at his abs. I caught glimpses of them on the plane and when he was helping me move, but the full picture in the sun is nothing short of glorious. I would drop to my knees and lick sweat from those abs, trace my tongue between each hard muscle, worship them like they deserved to be worshiped.

And don’t even get me started on his tattoos. His chest is bare of any ink, but both arms are covered with maritime tats. Waves, winding ropes, a gorgeous sunrise, the North Star.

As the boat begins to move, the azure backdrop of water and sky contrast beautifully with his darkly tanned skin, and I know behind his dark lenses, his eyes would perfectly match the lighter blue from overhead. I lift my pervy gaze to his face and find his tongue sliding along his bottom lip.

“I,” he clears his throat, “I really like your swimsuit, Libby.”

Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but I believe he’s looking at my boobs.

“I like yours too,” I reply. He’s wearing royal-blue swim trunks with a white anchor print, while I’m in a sunshine-yellow bikini top and ancient denim shorts.

“Is yellow your favorite color?”

“H-how did you know that?”

“You’ve worn yellow every time I’ve seen you so far.”

And let’s add acutely observant to the list of his attributes.

“I like it because it’s a happy color,” I reply. “I feel like we’ve been talking about me a lot. Tell me about you and your family.”

“Hmm, I grew up here, as you know. I had good parents, and I love them, but I’m really closer to Nana Viv.”

“Nana Viv is your father’s mother?”

He nods, and by the way his face melts, I can tell he adores her. “She was always my confidant growing up. We’d spend hours in her kitchen or her rose garden just talking. I’d do anything in the world for her.”

“I love that. What about your sister?”

“With her being six years younger than me, we didn’t get really tight until we were both adults. Now she’s my best friend. She’s the one who got me into cover modeling. Some guy she used to date wrote a thriller novel and needed someone for the cover. Silvia volunteered me.” He flashes a self-deprecating smile. “After that, I got approached by several photographers who wanted to work with me. They thought I had the look for romance covers.”

“I agree.” The boat slows, and we begin readying our tackle for the afternoon round of fishing. “What about your job?”

Riggs’s smile fades a little. “It’s a job. Just work, you know?”

“Are you happy there?”

“I’m… fine. It’s the family business, so it’s what I’m expected to do.”

I read something unspoken between his words. “What would you do if you didn’t have family obligations? If you could choose any career.”

“This,” he says, gazing out over the deep blue of the Gulf. “I’d be out on the water every day instead of stuck behind a desk.”

His answer makes me sad. “I think that sounds like a dream. I would love to be out on a boat with my computer and simply write my books.”

Riggs pushes his sunglasses to the top of his head and fixes me with his blue gaze. “Words and water?”

I bob my head up and down and confirm, “Words and water.”