Page 86 of Rating the Book Boyfriend

“Really, Romero? I didn’t realize you could speak with your d—owww!”

Penn’s charming remark is cut short when Nana cuffs him upside the head. “Penn Salazar! Where are your manners?”

“Sorry, Nana,” he mutters, though he tosses me a wink.

“Come on, sweetheart,” I say in a low voice to Libby, guiding her to a door behind us. We make our way through the nextroom, out into the hallway, and up the curved staircase to the second floor. Once there, I push open the door to an upstairs parlor and open the glass door to the balcony.

Libby and I step out onto the flagstone, and I turn to face her. “Is this okay, or is it too cold?” The temperature this evening is in the fifties.

“I’m fine. Did you bring me up here so you could toss me over the balcony for being an asshat?”

Laughing, I pull her to me. “Never. I just thought we needed a private place to talk. You seemed to have some… misconceptions.”

Even in the moonlight, I can see the blush coloring her high cheekbones. “Is that your way of saying I’m a raging bitch who jumped to conclusions?”

“You did jump to conclusions, but you’re the farthest thing from a bitch, Libby. You showed up here ready to fight for me, and it was about the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” I kiss the spot between her eyebrows. “For the record, I never intended on proposing to Lucinda. She stuck that ring in my pocket at Thanksgiving, along with fucking directions on how she wanted the proposal to go. We argued about it and that’s when we broke up.”

Libby glances down and squinches her eyes shut. “Oh. Well, I feel like a complete idiot.”

“Lucinda isn’t even here tonight. I called her today as a courtesy to let her know that I’m seeing someone. I didn’t want to blindside her. She said she wasn’t planning to come anyway. She’s dating someone as well, and she’s spending the evening with his family.”

Libby looks up at me and smiles. “Hopefully he’s better suited to her.”

I bark out a laugh. “She’s going out with the guy who owns the jewelry store where she picked out the engagement ring thatwasn’t to be. I’m sure he’s pretty perfect for her. For the record, the only reason I kept that ring is because I’m trying to figure out what to do with it. I’ll probably sell it and donate the money.”

Her head tilts in thought. “So what’s that box in your pocket?”

I smile. “That’s your Christmas present. I wasn’t sure what you’d be wearing, so I brought it just in case it would look good with your outfit. Which is smokin’, by the way.” My eyes roam down and hang up on her rounded cleavage. “I want to fucking motorboat your tits right now.”

She giggles and swats my chest. “Stop it, Riggs.” Her teeth sink into her bottom lip. “Can I see my present?”

“Of course. I think they’ll look gorgeous with what you’re wearing.” I pull out the box that’s wrapped with yellow paper—Libby’s favorite color—and has a tiny, festive green bow on top.

When Libby unwraps the gift and opens the lid of the pale-blue box, the sparkle in her eyes tells me I made a good choice. “Riggs, these are… oh my god, I love them!” she squeals. “They match my shoes!”

“Do you want to put them on?” She nods happily and reaches for the silver studs in her earlobes. I remove one of the new earrings from the box and hold it up, letting the moonlight gleam off the shimmering strands of tiny diamonds that dangle down like streamers.

After she has both of her studs removed, I lean in and kiss each bare earlobe and whisper, “Can I put them on you?” She nods, and I feed one post through the hole and secure it before doing the same to the other. The simple act seems so intimate, and I resist the urge to blurt out that I love her.

But no. I have plans for that revelation.

Libby shakes her head from side to side, making the earrings dance as a smile takes over her lips. “I love these so much, Riggs. Thank you. Rhinestones are my favorite.”

“Are they?” I ask with an amused grin, and she picks up on it.

“What are you—Oh my shit! These aren’t real diamonds, are they?”

“They are,” I reluctantly inform her. When she reaches for one of them, I grip her wrists and stop her.

“Stop it, Riggs.”

“Do you like them?”

“They’re too expensive.”

I tug her closer to me and kiss her forehead. “That’s not what I asked, Libby-girl. Do. You. Like. Them?”

“Of course I like them. They’re stunning, but?—”

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