Page 42 of Rating the Book Boyfriend

We all laugh, except for JoJo. “I’mnottaking 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, despitethe 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 myvery 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.

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