Page 18 of Ever Mine

“You didn’t have to order food,” she says, watching me take the seat across from her.

“Of course I did. I’m providing the full date experience.”

She tilts her head. “I thought this was research.”

“It is,” I say, feigning solemnity. “Comprehensive fieldwork requires dinner. And possibly dessert.”

Her laugh breaks the tension, easy and bright. “You take your job very seriously.”

“I do,” I say, softer now. “Especially when it involves beautiful company.”

“Fair enough. This looks delicious.”

“Eat,” I instruct. “And you have every opportunity to leave whenever you like. No questions, no guilt.”

Her gaze flicks up to mine. “You’re giving me an out?”

“I’d be a terrible lawyer if I didn’t lay out all your options.”

For a moment, we simply eat and talk. She tells me about Kelsie’s bakery, about the chaos of running a small-town marketing campaign. Then, about all of her other siblings.

I tell her about contract law in the least boring way possible. My parents and sister.

When the conversation drifts to books, she leans forward, chin resting on her hand. “Have you ever read a romance novel?”

“Would you like to know a secret?”

Her eyes flash. “Yes.”

“Aside from boring legal texts, they’re the only types of books I love to read.”

She gasps. “Truly? That’s so forward-thinking of you. I bet my dumb brothers wouldn’t know what to do with one of those books.”

“Have you always been a reader?”

“I have. Fiction feels… safer than real life.”

“I know the feeling,” I murmur before I can stop myself.

She tilts her head. “Do you write?”

I take a slow sip of my tea. “Mostly contracts and sternly worded emails.”

She smiles. “Pity. You’ve got that sexy bad boy hero thing down.”

“I would settle for sexy bad boy research assistant,” I say.

She sips her iced tea. “Who are your favorite authors?”

“Oh, well, I am a big fan of Anita Dix. She lives here in town, you know? Her assassin books are enthralling.”

“I did not realize that. I have read her. Once. She’s very good, but I prefer my romance without the violence on the side.”

“That’s fair. Since you are choosing to write historical romances, you must have favorite authors of your own,” I say.

“I do. I read across the genres, though. Just not any of the dark stuff. I love Robyn DeHart’s historicals. I adore Hope Ford’s contemporaries. But Rosie Thorne is my absolute favorite.”

I nearly spit my tea across the room. Shit. I cough to try and cover it up.