“We have those too.”
“I just didn’t realize the content is so . . . generous.”
“Yeah, well, men are better in books.”
My jaw falls open. “You’d rather read about a man than spend time with one in real life?”
“Oh, one hundred percent.”
“Now, I’m offended.”
“Why?”
“You don’t think a real man can offer more than what’s between these pages?”
She grins. “I know he can’t.”
“Damn, Rosalie. Who hurt you?” She frowns as soon as the words leave my lips. I instantly regret them. “Sorry.” By the hard look on her face, she’s completely shut down. Damn. Just talking and I’ve already fucked up. “I didn’t mean?—”
“Look, it’s fine. You don’t have to understand. But I’m not being hyperbolic. I really do prefer men in books. They actually listen, show genuine care, and when they screw up, they take real accountability and grovel. They do whatever it takes to show their person they are in it for the long haul, and when shit hits the fan, as it notably always does, they show up and support their partner instead of being selfish fucking assholes.”
“Yeah, and apparently they know how to eat pussy.”
She shoots me a glare and opens her book. “That too.” She turns her gaze to the page and resumes reading, effectively ending our conversation.
I play back her words, gleaning new insights about the woman sitting beside me, and filing them away. The books she’s reading—way hotter than I ever imagined. But her feelings about men, both in and outside of fiction, present a new challenge. Could I give the men in her books a run for their money? Maybe not, but I’d like to try.
“Hey, Rosalie?”
“Mmm?”
“When you’re done reading that, can I borrow it?”
“You want to readthisbook?”
“Yeah.”
She studies me for a moment. I can’t help but assume she’s looking for any sign I might be lying. I must pass the test because she turns back to her book. “Okay.”
“Great.”
I try to play it cool. I really do, but I can’t hold back the smile that takes over my face. If I want to compete with her book boyfriends, I need to know them better. She likes what she’s reading. It’s basically an instruction manual. The perfect cheat code. And I’m prepared to be the best student.
I finish my beer, enjoying the sounds of birds chirping and the breeze rustling the trees. A squirrel makes his way down a tree, his tail bouncing across the field as he races after something.
“My ex.” Rosalie’s voice cuts through my thoughts. She doesn’t look up from her book, and for a second I wonder if her words are meant for me. Though, who else would it be? We’re the only two people for miles. She must sense my confusion, because she offers clarification. “Edward’s dad. That’s who hurt me.”
Understanding dawns and my chest tightens at the thought of anyone hurting this woman. She doesn’t talk about Edward’s father. Not to me, and as far as I know, not to anyone. I’m curious what he did, and also where he lives so I can kick his ass for hurting someone as special as Rosalie.
7
ROSALIE
I don’t rememberthe last time I spent the entire day outdoors. It’s not as if I hate nature, but when most of my favorite activities can be done within the confines of my house, I tend to stay inside. After today, I think I might need to make an effort to get out and explore.
“You done reading?” Jackson asks as I tuck my book into my bag.
“For now.” I lift my arms, stretching and then rolling my neck to get the kinks out.
