"I never knew that," I say, surprised Hadleigh never mentioned it, but she probably didn't want to share without Ivy's permission.
"That's because you're easy to talk to," she says sweetly. "I get social anxiety around strangers, and it's the worst when I’m nervous. It's why I tend to stay quiet and keep to myself. I hid in my books for so long that now I can't help comparing the fictional world to reality. And let's just say, I'd rather live in a magical alternate universe some days."
Smiling, I nod. "I can understand that. I can't wrap my head around the concept of high fantasy."
"It takes some getting used to, and you really have to focus so you don't miss anything. Maybe I could read to you sometime?"
"I'd love that."
"Maybe I'll find a reverse harem romance for you before I bring over the thick fantasy ones." She snickers.
"What the hell is that?"
"One woman with multiple men."
"She's with them all at the same time?" My brows pop up.
"Yeah, sometimes. It can be just her with one of the guys or a few at once if more wanna join in. Sometimes, they watch and take turns, but also the guys might get with the other guys too. So basically, it's one girl with multiple boyfriends, who can also be with each other."
I must have a look of horror on my face because she bursts out laughing.
"And none of them get jealous?" I ask.
"Not with the other men in the harem. They're one big happy family!" She beams, and it takes everything in me not to think of the time Knox and I shared Hadleigh. It was definitely a one-time thing that we’re all very much over. I will never share a woman again.
"Yeah, that's definitely fictional," I muse, removing my ball cap and brushing a hand through my hair.
"I could also read you one that's not focused on romance. Some fantasy books aren't as dirty as others, but it's usually at least a subplot."
"Whatever you want to read, I’ll listen to. Who's your favorite author?" I ask, and her loud gasp nearly has me dropping my fork. "What?"
"You can't ask that!"
I furrow my brow. "Why?"
"That's like askin' a parent to pick their favorite child! Or askin' you to pick your favorite food."
I chuckle, amusement floating through me. "Biscuits and gravy. Cornbread and beef stew. Fried chicken and homemade mac and cheese."
She points a finger at me. "See? You can't choose just one. But if you could only eat one of those for the rest of your life, which would it be?"
"Fuck, you're right. That's too hard."
Her wide smile makes my heart pound. I love being the reason for it.
"Okay, so how about your top three authors?"
"That's still impossible."
"You're being taken to a stranded island for a whole year. But you can only take five books. What are they?" I ask.
Her eyes bug out, and I chuckle at her expression. "Oh my God, I'm sweatin'. I feel like I'm at a job interview."
I bark out a laugh as she fans herself.
"But fine, if you're gonna ask the hard questions, I'll do my best to answer my top three authors."
Though I won't know any of them, I’ll do my best to remember them. I want to know everything and anything about her.
"K.F. Breene, Brandon Sanderson, and..." She chews on her bottom lip as she contemplates her final answer. I study her mouth, wishing I could close the gap between us and feel her lips against mine. But I’ll wait until the timing is just right. "Ugh, this is hard." She blows out a breath as if it pains her to choose. "Karen Marie Moning, K.A. Tucker, Kresley Cole and…Scarlett St. Clair," she spouts out so quickly it sounds like a different language.
"That's cheating," I playfully scold.
She throws up her arms with a shrug. "I can't do it. I love them all. That doesn’t even include my list of favorite smutty romance authors."
I chuckle. "You'll have to read me one of your favorites someday. I'd probably enjoy it more if I was listening to you."
"As long as you don't roll your eyes at the spicy scenes. Hadleigh always teased me for being a virgin who read too much lady porn and knew more about sex than most adults." She blurts out, then slaps her forehead. "I did not mean to say that."
I choke back a laugh to ease her embarrassment. I'm assuming she didn't want me to know that little detail.
"Can we pretend I didn't just humiliate myself, please?" She covers her face with both hands, and I reach over, pulling them down.
"I like that you're comfortable enough to say whatever's on your mind," I state honestly.
"Now you have to tell me somethin’ embarrassing," she urges. "So I don't feel stupid."
"Umm..." I contemplate what to share. I've made an ass out of myself dozens of times. "Alright...I screamed like a bitch gettin' a piercing."