Page 14 of Romero and Juliette

She grins, completely unashamed. “They’re tasty, salty goodness.”

I grunt, mostly because it keeps me from grinning back at her.

“They’re crunchy,” she argues. “Satisfying.”

“They taste like sadness and dead leaves. With salt.”

She laughs, the sound bubbling out like she can’t help it. “Okay. If your taste buds are so much more refined, what’s your road trip snack of choice?”

I hold up my gas station prize. “Beef jerky. Original flavor. The backbone of America.”

She makes a face. “That’s not a snack, that’s punishment.”

“It’s protein.”

“It’s leathery meat strips.”

I grin. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Because it is! You could’ve chosen chips, candy, trail mix—but no. You went full survivalist.”

“Hey, if we break down in the middle of nowhere, you’ll be grateful I came prepared.”

She pretends to consider that. “Fine. But if I’m dying of boredom first, I’m eating your jerky out of spite.”

I glance over. “You sure you’re not already doing that?”

She shoots me a look. “You’re lucky I like a challenge.”

I chuckle, and for a few miles, the cab fills with the sound of her crunching and me pretending not to watch the way the corners of her mouth lift every time she catches me looking.

“So what’s your go-to comfort movie?” she asks, glancing at me over her sunglasses.

“Die Hard. Probably.”

She snorts. “Of course. Explosions and masculinity. How original.”

“Excuse me, Die Hard is a Christmas classic. Not to mention a love story.”

“Because nothing says ‘holiday cheer’ like Bruce Willis crawling through air ducts.”

“Exactly. What’s yours?”

“You’ve Got Mail.”

“Figures.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just—you strike me as a Meg Ryan kind of girl. Optimistic. Big feelings. Probably cry over bookstore closures.”

She gasps. “Who doesn’t cry over bookstore closures?”

Why the fuck couldn’t she be harder to like? Or immature and silly? But a woman who reads? Who loves bookstores? That’s my fucking catnip.

I sigh. “That’s fair.”

“Besides, she has that whole speech about how books you read when you’re a child become part of your identity in a way that books you read as an adult don’t. It’s a perfect moment because it’s so honest.”