Page 16 of Rating the Book Boyfriend

“In the five minutes I was in the restroom?” she asks flatly, and I nod.

“I chose you as my coach.”

Her hand covers her face, and she sinks into the chair beside me.At least she’s not leaving. Yet.“Nooo, please tell me you didn’t do that.”

“I did. Liberty, can you please uncover your eyes and look at me?”

“The magic eight-ball saysnot at this time.”

God, she’s fucking funny.

“Okay, just listen then. I’ve read all your books, and the way you write your male characters… I don’t know… it just speaks to me. I’ve always thought I would love to be the kind of man you write about.”

She separates two fingers and peeps through them with one eye. “You’ve read my books?”

“I have. And now I have the chance to improve myself, to be a better boyfriend. I mean, I do my best, but no one is perfect. I’m hoping you can help me.”

Pulling her hand away, she wrinkles her brow. “Are you trying to become the teacher’s pet?”

“Most definitely,” I assure her. “I will be your most dedicated student, and I plan to earn all the gold stars you’ll give me.”

Her genuine smile makes an appearance, and the tension in my shoulders relaxes.

An announcement is made for first-class passengers to board. Once on the plane, I assist a tiny elderly lady—who informs me her name is Tillie—with getting her bag into the overhead compartment.

Tillie has the aisle seat beside Libby, but when she catches me staring at the pretty blonde, she whispers, “Would you like to switch seats with me?”

“Yes, please,” I say gratefully, and she pats my chest.

“Good luck, handsome. That young lady is very lucky. If I were ten years younger, I’d throat punch someone to sit beside a big hunk like you.”

I chuckle and thank her, neglecting to mention that she’d have to be closer tofortyyears younger before we’d even be close to an appropriate match. Feeling happier than I have any right to be, I settle in beside Libby for the two-and-a-half-hour flight.

“I guess since we’ll be working together, I probably need to ask where you live,” Libby says, working on her third packet of cookies.

How the hell does she stay in such good shape with the way she eats?Not that I’m complaining. I love seeing a woman enjoy her food.

“I live in Mexico Beach.”

“Oh. That’s not far from Port Saint Joe.”

My heart rate picks up a notch. “You live in PSJ? That’s only twelve miles from me.”

“No. Well, yes, I guess. I’m in Panama City Beach now, but as of tomorrow, I’m moving to Port Saint Joe.” She sets down her empty cookie package and picks up her phone. “That reminds me. I need to rent a U-Haul. I keep forgetting to do that.”

She taps around on her phone for a minute and then scowls. “Why isn’t this stupid wi-fi working?”

“I have a truck,” I blurt out. “How much stuff do you have?”

“Um, I have a couch and some boxes. I plan to shop for more stuff once I get settled in a bit.”

“I’ll come help you.” I’m not sure why I say that. It just flies out of my mouth.

“You don’t have to do that, Riggs.”

“I know I don’t, but I already have the day off work because I was planning to travel home tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?”

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