“Whenever I take out my current read in public, I get three types of looks: confused, intrigued, and judging.”
“Haven’t you seenHot Dudes Readingon Instagram? They have like over a million followers. Men who read are hot. Men who read romance are even hotter.”
The red color reappears on his face. “It’s just that people rarely see a tattooed, over 250-pound ginger guy reading the latest romance book recommended on social media sites.”
“But it should be more common. Everyone deserves to read what they want.”
“I agree—and those books are like guides for men interested in women.”
That makes me laugh louder. “I like the way you think. Why romance novels, though? Other than getting to know all the tricks, that is.”
He seems to think over my question for a moment before answering. “Growing up with the family I have, I got used to watching the latest romcom movies, and at one point, I realized that I actually enjoyed them.”
“Ah yes, growing up with four sisters!”
He laughs that deep belly laugh of his that I find incredibly sexy. “When Lee-Lee suggested that I should try a romance novel, I thought,why not. That’s how I read my first romance novel,First Ladyby Susan Elizabeth Phillips, at age sixteen.”
“I haven’t read that book, but I might later if it was your first.”
“You should. It’s a road trip romance where the young widow of an assassinated president goes into hiding from everyone but this guy and two orphaned girls who travel with him.”
Huh, that’s interesting, since we’re also going on a road trip just the two of us minus the girls.“That does sound like a fun read. Do you like the illustrated covers more than those half-naked dudes?” I ask, letting go of his hand.
“Honestly, those don’t bother me as I know well that sex sells. Hell, all my sisters surely drool over those covers.”
“Same here, but you know, it’s just fantasy. Those covers and characters aren’t real life.”
“There’s nothing wrong with fantasies. It’s good for our mental health to have that place to escape.”
I hum in agreement. “You’ve been a romance reader for the past twenty-plus years, then?”
“Sounds about right. I’ve read hundreds of romance books ranging from closed-door romances to erotic romance. After readingStill Beatingby Jennifer Hartmann earlier this year, I’m on a dark romance kick and don’t see my fascination with them ending anytime soon. The one you just heard is a dark MC romance with a fifteen-year age gap.”
“Now that explains the entire good girl conversation. We could always continue listening to it if you would prefer that over music.”
“It’s over halfway, so we could put something else on. I have many audiobooks downloaded on my phone.”
One little detail catches my attention. “Wait, didn’t you just say you started it yesterday?”
“I like to listen to audiobooks at double speed, if not even faster.”
“Now that’s something I can’t do. Even 1.25x seems too fast at times.”
“You need more practice to get there, but I’m sure you could do that. We could practice together.”
The confidence he shows in me is staggering. “If you say so, but I don’t believe that. And you would get bored at the almost normal speed narration.”
“How about some country music, then?”
“I’m game.”
Spade opens his music app and puts a country playlist on. The first song to play is “Something in the Water” by Carrie Underwood, and we sing along. His voice isn’t the best, nowhere close, but mine isn’t either. The only thing that matters is that we are having fun. And that we are.
By the fourth song, we’re on our way to North Carolina. Spade only told me to drive toward Raleigh, so I’m doing that until I know our final destination.
Choosing not to know where I am going is way better than not making that decision and still feeling like I have no clear direction. I could get used to choosing to be lost, instead of being forced to feel like I am.
8
