Rating the Book Boyfriend (Book Boyfriend Builders)

12. Libby

CHAPTER 12

Libby

I wiggle excitedly in my seat when, one by one, my author friends’ faces pop onto my computer screen. Well, except for…

“Can you see me?” Ava’s voice asks.

“No,” we all chorus.

“Shit. Hold on.” Five minutes later, she figures out how to turn on the camera, and all four of our faces appear in squares on the screen like the spicy author version of The Brady Bunch .

Another ten minutes is spent catching up on life events before we get down to business. “Who wants to go first?” Gemma asks, and I raise my hand like a sixth grader.

“I’ll go. As you know from my texts, I’m actually working with two BBB clients right now. The first is Gina, the woman that’s one half of a lesbian couple.”

“I’ve been curious about that. How’s it working out?” JoJo asks.

“Really well, actually. I think most people want the same basic things from a relationship, no matter their gender or sexual orientation. The lady is really sweet and very in love with Lauren, but Gina had a hard home life growing up. She didn’t receive much affection as a kid, and now she’s not sure how to show affection to her partner.”

“That’s sad,” Ava says.

“It is, and Lauren’s love language is physical touch. I’m trying to be cautious because I don’t want Gina to do anything she’s uncomfortable with, so I told her to take it slowly. I gave her a few assignments for the week, things she said were within her comfort level, and she was eager to try.”

“Sounds like you’re doing everything right,” JoJo says. “What about your other client?”

Closing my eyes, I puff out a long breath. “I’m struggling with this one.”

“Asshat?” Gemma asks.

I open my eyes and massage my forehead. “No. Actually, it’s Riggs Romero.”

Beat of silence.

And then my speakers erupt with a cacophony of yells.

“Riggs fucking Romero?”

“Holy shit!”

“Lib’s totally going to bang her client.”

“Lucky bitch.”

“Yep, totally banging him like a screen door in a hurricane.”

I wave my hands at them and laugh. “Stop it! I’m not going to bang him.” Three sets of skeptical eyebrows raise. “Seriously, I’m not. His girlfriend signed him up. Plus, it would be totally unprofessional.”

“She’s right,” Gemma says with a firm nod. “Libby wouldn’t sleep with a taken man.”

“She’d think about it,” JoJo says, and they all grin knowingly.

“Well, I’m not dead. I think every woman who’s seen him has thought about getting Riggs between their sheets.” And in their showers. And against their walls . And… “Anyway, my struggle is that I can’t seem to figure out anything for him to improve on.”

Ava twists a lock of dark-brown hair around one finger. “What did the girlfriend say in the application?”

“It was vague. She just wants him to be ‘swoonier,’ but she didn’t give specifics. I’ve questioned him a lot, and he knows all her preferences, seems attentive, and get this… for a souvenir from Colorado Springs, he bought her diamond earrings.”

“Wow, I was lucky to get a ball cap from Aiden when he went somewhere,” Gemma quips dryly.

A titter of amusement goes through the rest of the group. None of us has ever seen Gemma wear a ball cap. “See, that’s what I mean. A hat is a thoughtless gift for you, but Riggs bought Lucinda jewelry because he knows that’s what she likes.”

“Why don’t you contact this Lucinda and get more info from her,” Ava suggests.

Gemma nods. “That’s a good idea. People always try to put their best foot forward, but you never know what they’re like privately.”

“Okay, I’ll do that. Riggs just seems like a very thoughtful guy. Like, I mentioned that I wanted to go deep-sea fishing, so he took me for our first meeting. His friend has a charter business.”

“Did you see him shirtless?” Ava asks breathlessly.

“And bottomless,” I say, rolling my eyes, and everyone gasps. “Not like that. There was an… unfortunate incident.”

Gemma leans forward and widens her eyes. “Do tell.”

I recount the entire story about hooking Riggs and the ensuing chaos, including the impromptu spanking I delivered. By the end, the other girls are howling with laughter, and Ava actually disappears from the screen because she slides onto the floor like a limp noodle as the ridiculousness gets the better of her.

“That’s fucking hysterical, Libs,” Gemma wheezes. “Can I use that in my next boo?—”

“No,” I cut off with a good-natured roll of my hazel eyes. “I’m totally using it. My humiliation, my story.”

“Fair enough,” she grumbles. “At least tell me you wore the red bikini while you were spanking him. The one that practically shows your areolas?”

I giggle. “No, you ass. I wore the yellow one. Perfectly respectable.”

I remember the blue gaze that heated my skin more than the sun when Riggs looked at me that day, and I change the subject to distract from my blushing.

“Ava, how is your first client?”

Ava peeps up until her eyes are visible, and she lets out a tired sigh before sitting in her chair again. “I’m actually doing more of a classroom setting. I have three men, and two of them are so sweet and genuinely want my help. The third…”

Her eyes roll to the top of her head, and JoJo asks, “What’s wrong with the third guy?”

“He’s like Zach 2.0. He doesn’t seem to take the BBB or anything else seriously.”

“Just cut him loose and tell him maybe this program isn’t for him,” Gemma suggests.

“I did, but then he came back. And now it’s like a battle of wills. I’m not backing down until he does. Maverick McKinney has met his match as far as stubbornness goes.” Her green eyes blaze with determination as she jabs a finger against her desk, and I feel a little sorry for this Maverick dude.

“What about you, JoJo?” Gemma asks.

“I met with Jacob last week. It was a quick coffee to discuss what he was looking for and how or if we could help. About an hour after the meeting, he confirmed he did want my help. I’m meeting with him again this afternoon. We will cover some do’s and don’ts when attempting to court a woman. I’m hosting a Friendsgiving at the farm and inviting the girl he’s had his eye on for a while now, so fingers crossed he doesn’t get trigger shy.”

“What about Colton, the guy you got snowed in with?” I ask.

JoJo’s lip curls in derision. “Oh, you mean Boston’s most eligible bachelor?”

“Yes, isn’t he your brother’s best friend?” Gemma asks. “Sounds like a romance book waiting to happen.”

We all laugh, except for JoJo. “I’m not taking him on as a client,” she insists, “but, admittedly, he is different. He’s a walking red flag, and while that happens to be exactly my type, his brand of asshole wouldn’t be good for business.”

“What about you, Gemma? Your client is the funny plumber, right?” Ava asks.

“Yes.” Gemma’s face crunches into a grimace. “He’s the hottest… plumber I’ve ever seen, but I know he’s hiding something.”

Worry threads through my veins. “In what way? Do you feel unsafe? If so, take one of the guys with you when you see him. And only meet in public places like?—”

“I know, Mom ,” she says with a teasing grin. “And it’s nothing like that. I’m just waiting for him to trust me enough to fully open up.”

“A lot of men have trouble opening up and making themselves vulnerable,” JoJo says wisely.

We discuss that for a while and then hang up and promise to talk again in a week or two. Pulling up Riggs’s application, I find Lucinda’s number and give her a call.

On Saturday morning, I dress in denim shorts, a melon-colored T-shirt, and matching flip-flops. I’m heading to Riggs’s home for our next meeting because he offered to cook the snapper for us. He said I could come early if I wanted to hang out on the beach for a while.

I've gotten a ton of writing done the past couple days, so a beach day is exactly what I need.

The drive to the town of Mexico Beach is only about fifteen minutes, and as I turn down a quiet lane, I wonder if my GPS is broken. Then I make a curve, and my mouth drops open.

This is where he lives?

It’s the most stunning house I’ve ever seen, managing to be huge and humble at the same time. At first I think the siding is white, but as I creep closer, I note that it’s actually the palest of blues, like the sky hidden behind a wisp of clouds.

The home is two stories, covered with Hardie-plank and a gray wood shake roof. Four white columns flank the wide front porch that’s dotted with comfy-looking padded chairs in a charcoal that pops against the pastels.

But the best part of the house is the view that spreads out behind it. Every imaginable color of blue is reflected back at me, from the deepness of the Gulf waters to the brightness of the sky.

I park in the oyster-shell driveway, and the door opens as I’m gathering my bag. Riggs steps out onto that gorgeous porch, one hand stuffed into the pocket of ivory linen shorts, and the other lifting for a wave. He’s almost knocked on his ass when a blur of black fur bursts out the door and directly toward me.

“Hey, big boy,” I coo at Ace as he skids to a stop a second before he’s about to barrel into me. Squatting, I rub the spot he seems to love on his neck, and the pooch goes into a full-body wiggle as he nuzzles my shoulder. “I brought you a present. You wanna see?”

He backs up a step and turns in a circle before sitting attentively with his tongue hanging out one side of his mouth. I pull a huge chew bone from my bag and toss it out into the grassy yard. Ace takes off after it, ears flying behind him as I laugh at his pure doggy joy.

“You’ve made a friend for life,” Riggs says as I climb the white painted staircase up to where he’s standing. “That was really thoughtful of you.”

“I didn’t leave the dog dad out,” I say, pulling a bottle of red wine from my bag. “Thank you for inviting me over.”

He grins as he takes the bottle and reads the label. “Thanks, Libby. Shiraz is my favorite.”

“I hope that one’s okay. I remember you mentioned you like Shiraz on one of the flights.” I had passed over the very expensive ones in the liquor store, opting for a moderately priced one.

“It’s perfect. Come on inside.”

Ace trots up the steps with his treasure, and Riggs opens the door for him. “Go to your room, Ace.” The dog dutifully prances down the hallway.

“Your dog has his own room?”

Riggs gives me a smile that’s slightly shy yet completely unabashed. “Yeah, he’s a spoiled brat. But that keeps him out of my room. I love the big goof, but I get no sleep if he gets in my bed. It’s like sleeping with a damn furnace.”

We walk into a spacious living room. The floors are covered with textured tiles in an alternating square and rectangle pattern. The honey color lends a rustic air to the room, despite the obviously expensive furnishings. The brown cushy couch is upholstered in some kind of suede material that I run my fingers over.

Riggs toes off his loafers, and words erupt from my mouth before I can stop them. “No fair. Even your feet are pretty.” Ohmygod, stupid, stupid, stupid.

He stares down at the long, perfectly tanned things holding him up before lifting an eyebrow at me. “But are they prettier than my very fine ass ?”

I groan. “A true gentleman would never bring that up again.”

“Never promised I was a gentleman all the time,” he says with a wink .

“When aren’t you?” my lips ask, and I really need to get a grip on those blabby bitches.

His blue eyes darken a shade, as does his voice. “When a woman doesn’t want me to be.”

Hoo boy .

“That was a very book-boyfriend thing to say,” I tell him, putting a playful tone in my voice as I wonder why he said a woman and not Lucinda.

Riggs rolls his eyes with a grin on his face. “Anyway, this is obviously the living room.”

“I love the walls,” I say. “What color is that?”

“I had the paint specially mixed to match this,” he says, walking toward a panoramic photo that stretches the length of the mantel over the stone fireplace. Riggs traces a finger over the sunrise and shows me the thin line of peachy yellow where the sun is just about to make its appearance. “There’s so much to love about sunrises, but this strip where the sun is just cresting is my favorite. Like a moment of hope that widens as the day begins.”

“That’s really beautiful,” I say. “The photo and the thought.” My eyes drift around the room, taking in all the photos on his sunrise-colored walls. A vista of an empty beach. A raging storm over the water. A crusty anchor on the deck of a boat. A silhouette of a palm tree and a dog looking out over the Gulf.

Doing a double take at the last one, I crane my neck closer and squint. “Is that Ace?”

Riggs stands beside me with his hands in his pockets, and his voice goes mushy. “Yeah, that’s my buddy. I can’t believe he sat still long enough to let me take it.”

It hits me then and my eyes skate over the photos again. “Wait. Did you take all these pictures?”

“Yeah,” he says so bashfully it makes me want to hug him. “It’s just a hobby, but I enjoy it.”

“They’re great, Riggs. Like, really beautiful. You capture so much.”

“Thanks,” he says, and I can see the passion for his hobby in his light-blue eyes. “Do you want to see more?”

“I’d love to.” I take off my flip-flops and place them next to his beside the door.

Riggs gives me a brief tour as we walk into another section of the first floor and arrive at a closed door, which he opens. “This is kind of a mess because I build frames too, but I like the light in this room better than working in my garage.”

“I can see why,” I tell him, a little breathless at the view of the beach through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The other three walls are covered with so many stunning photos, framed in what is obviously driftwood.

“I told you I could hook you up with pictures for your house. Just choose whichever ones you want.” He shrugs, seeming embarrassed. “I mean, if you like any of them.”

“I like them all!” I assure him, walking around and inspecting each one. “I wouldn’t feel right about taking them without paying you though.”

“No way, Libby. You provided dinner with that big snapper you caught, so consider this a repayment.”

My house is significantly smaller than Riggs’s, so I decide four would be a good number. I select two beach and water scenes from different angles, and then I come across a replica of the one Riggs has in his living room… the one with the dog and palm tree.

“Would it be weird if I wanted the one with Ace? I love the dark silhouettes against the colors.”

“Nope, not weird at all,” he assures me, taking it off the wall and adding it to my stack. “What’s your last selection?”

“I don’t know,” I whine. “They’re all so pretty, and they each tell a different story.”

“What about this?” He takes down a small panorama print of a sunset. There’s no frame because it’s on one of those one-inch-thick canvas things. “See all the reds and purples? That would look great over your couch.”

Picturing it in my mind, I smile. “Sold.”

“Cool. I’ll wrap them up and put them in your car for you. Why don’t you use the spare room down here to change into your swimsuit and then meet me on the back deck? We can talk there.”

“Bring your paperwork,” I say as I pick up my bag and head for the bathroom.