Page 43 of Rating the Book Boyfriend

“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 saida womanand notLucinda.

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 onhis 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.

CHAPTER 13

Libby

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