Page 13 of Rating the Book Boyfriend

Her eyes widen, and she smashes her lips together while red spots darken her tan cheeks, as if she’s embarrassed she said that out loud. Meanwhile, I’m trying not to preen like a fucking peacock that she thinks my name is sexy.

“All right, we’re about to dive into the deep end, Libster. Hang on tight.” She makes a show of clenching the armrests of her seat, and I lean forward to whisper, “Romeo.”

Her eyes go skyward as she mouths, “Romeo Romero.” Then she shakes her head and tosses a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “Not terrible, but with your last name, it’s too busy. What else ya got?”

“Rocco.”

Libby inhales a wheezing breath and holds it, and I become concerned that she’s sucked a piece of popcorn down her throat. Just as I’m about to pound her on the back or perform the Heimlich maneuver, she expels the air with a cacklinghahahasound, and I’m pretty sure it’s the weirdest—and cutest—laugh I’ve ever heard.

“Oh. My. God. Does your sister think you’re a meathead?”

“Apparently,” I chuckle, still amused at her exuberant laugh and wanting to hear it again. “You ready for the final and most ridiculous one?”

“Hang on.” She holds up her hand and takes a long swig of her drink. “I have a feeling I’m going to need alcohol to hear this one.”

“Wise choice,” I say before spreading my hands dramatically. “Rocket.”

Libby freezes for a long beat, and then she does that completely adorable wheezing laugh again, waving one hand at me. “Oh shit,” she gasps when she’s finally able to speak again. “That’s classic. Can you just imagine the pocket rocket jokes?”

Her laughter is contagious, and I join in… until the flight attendant walks over. “S-sorry, Cara,” I stammer through my chuckles. “Are we being too loud?”

She smiles. “Not at all. I wanted to see if you two needed more beverages.”

Noticing both our drinks, as well as Libby’s popcorn bag, are empty, I circle my finger in the air. “Bring us another round, and can you hook Liberty up with more popcorn?”

“Certainly. It would be my pleasure,” she says, returning a few minutes later with two full glasses and another bag of Skinny Pop.

“Jackpot,” Libby whispers, holding her bag toward me, and I take a couple fluffy kernels.

“Not terrible, but not as good as movie theater corn drenched in butter.”

“Agreed,” Libby says. “Did you give your sister atomic wedgies or something when she was a kid? Is that why she hates you?”

I chuckle yet again.What is it about this woman that makes me want to laugh constantly?“No, she actually adores her older brother. She honestly thought she was being helpful, though I think she threw a few of those names in there just to fuck with me.”

“What’s your age difference?”

“Six years. I’m thirty-three, and she’s twenty-seven.”

“Oh, I’m the same age as your sister. Where did you get the name Riggs?”

“My mother was a big fan of Mel Gibson whenLethal Weaponcame out. How did you get the name Liberty? It’s very unique.”

“You should meet my sister, Freedom, and my brother, Second Amendment.”

I literally choke on my bourbon, covering my mouth to keep from spewing the dark liquid against the back of the seat in front of me. “Seriously?” I cough out, and her wide grin tells me she’s joking.

“No, I’m an only child. I honestly don’t know where the name came from. I was adopted. My birth mom and I were in a car accident when I was only two years old, and she didn’t survive.”

“Libby, I’m so sorry. That must have been hard.”

She shrugs but never quite loses her smile. “It’s okay. I went into the foster care system and then was adopted by the Hills when I was eight. They were unable to have children, so they doted on me.”

I want to ask why someone as charming as her wasn’t adopted before age eight, but that seems awfully personal, so I veer the conversation a bit.

“And where did you come up with your pen name?”

“Cox was my birth mother’s last name. I guess she and my sperm donor weren’t together because I never found out who he was.

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