Page 84 of Rating the Book Boyfriend

“You want to come hang with us?”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“You won’t be. We’ve just gotten into our pajamas, and we’re about to watch movies and eat enough crappy food to make us bloat. You’re welcome to join us, but, hmmm.”

My ears perk up at her thoughtful hum. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking this whole thing doesn’t sound like Riggs, not from what you’ve told me. It sounds like he’s being pressured or something because that man is completely into you, not his ex.”

“What the hell can I do about it? I’m not going to beg a man to love me.”

“Fuck no you’re not. Look, do you have that hair-styling iron I sent you?”

“The one I thought was a sex toy at first?”

“You should have known I wouldn’t send you a sex toy without the appropriate lube.”

“In a fuchsia tube?” I ask dryly, and she bursts into laughter.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Lubey Libby. We’re going to FaceTime so I can help you pick out a spectacular outfit, and then you’re going to do your hair and makeup like the sexy vixen you are.”

“Okaaaay,” I drawl. “Then what?”

“Then you, my friend, are going to be the most kick-ass book girlfriend that’s ever lived.”

CHAPTER 27

Riggs

“Where’s your new girlfriend?” my mother asks. She’s dressed in a green dress that looks lovely with her dark hair. “Nana said she really likes her.”

Checking my phone again, I see Libby is around thirty minutes late. The Christmas Eve party is in full swing, and I tug at the collar of my burgundy button-down.

“I texted her, and she said she’d be a few minutes late,” I reply.

“She’ll be along,” Mom says, soothing me with a hand on my arm. “Your father and I can’t wait to meet her.”

I hear a car door slam outside, and my head jerks toward the front of the mansion like Ace when he hears a cat in the yard. “Maybe that’s her.” Making my way out to the expansive front porch, a sense of joy infuses me when Libby emerges from her car.

Holy fucking hell. She is stunning. Her blonde hair is styled in long, loose waves, pulled up with a sparkly clip on one side. My eyes run down her body, and all the saliva in my mouth dries up. Libby is wearing a red pantsuit that makes her look like a Christmas siren.

I’m not sure what kind of bra she’s wearing, butgoddamn, that cleavage. The pants fit her slender legs like a glove, and high glittery heels catch the last rays of the sun.

She’s wearing more makeup than I’ve ever seen her wear, with winged eyeliner and glossy red lips. I grin as my girl strides toward me with a… frown?

“Baby, you look gorgeous,” I say, trying to take her hand as she stomps up the steps, but she shakes me off.

“You have some nerve, Riggs Romero.” She gives me a poke in the chest with a red-painted fingernail.

“I, uh, what?” I ask, confused by her aggression.

“I know,” she hisses, her eyes tapering to slits.

“Know what?” I ask, my hand automatically going to the small box in the front pocket of my black gabardine pants. Her gaze zeros in on that movement, and her eyes are so squinty, I can’t even see a hint of hazel iris.

“That!” She looks back up at me, and I almost shiver from the furious pinch of her mouth.

Shit, she knows about her Christmas present and is pissed.But why? Because she thinks they’re too expensive? Probably. Well, she’s just going to have to fucking get used to it. I have money, and I plan to spoil her rotten.

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