Page 167 of Worth the Trip

“You slept through several of those hours.”

“I held you while doing it. Continued service.” Her laugh carried down the aisle. I crossed toward her and kissed her forehead. “Pick something for me.”

Her eyes lifted. “Any book?”

“Anything you think belongs with me.”

“That is a dangerous amount of authority.”

“I trust your judgment.”

“You questioned my judgment this morning.”

“Your taste in men fixed the dataset.”

She shook her head. “Then you have to pick one for me.”

“Already planned to.”

“You don’t know what I’m choosing.”

“I know what you read.”

“You know some of what I read.”

“Enough to be dangerous.”

She narrowed her eyes. “No business books.”

“I’m your man, not professional development.”

“And no selecting something because you think I need to learn a lesson.”

“Fair.”

“You agree awfully easily.”

“I’m trying to preserve diplomatic relations.”

“Good.”

“You also can’t give me anything about emotionally unavailable men.”

“That eliminates half the male literary canon.”

I laughed. “See? Profiling already.”

She disappeared deeper into fiction.

I let her.

Mostly.

Our paths crossed between shelves every few minutes anyway. A hand at her back when I moved past. Her fingers catching mine as she rounded a table. A wink over the top of a display.

Small shit.

Good shit.