Page 41 of Catching Feelings

“So you’re saying I’m fun, light, and have a flash of decadence?”

“Am I wrong?”

I think how her words could be insulting, but finding no fault in them, I shrug. “Sure, but I wouldn’t call two hundred twenty pounds light.”

She elbows me in the ribs. “Good natured. You’re not broody or dark or melancholy.”

“But only a little decadent?”

“Yup.” She pops thepand continues trekking down the trail.

While I’m sure she means this as a compliment, there’s an underlying insult I’m not quite figuring out.

“Tell me about your ice cream pairings.”

“It’s not rocket science. Sherbert is great on a hot night. The Dairy Twirl makes the best lemon bar ice cream. So good. In the fall, I love pumpkin ice cream, but it has to have graham cracker crust mixed in. I eat a lot of sweets during the holidays, so sometimes I need something simple like vanilla. Bean over French, but both are amazing, especially in a root beer float. Strawberry in July, obviously.”

“You’re skipping a lot of months.”

“That’s because winters are long in New England. Chocolate is my ice cream of choice when there isn’t much to do.”

Her legs pick up speed as she races down the mountain. It doesn’t take me long to catch up with her, and I don’t let her off the hook.

“So when you’re bored you go for chocolate. Rocky Road? Peanut butter swirl? Chocolate chip? What’s your poison when you’re...bored?”

Her cheeks are flushed and I’m not sure if it’s from the hike or what’s going on inside her head. Either way, I’m not backing down. Not when I’m so close to cracking her.

“Like I said, I’m not picky. Chocolate anything. It, uh, makes me feel...”

“Decadent?”

Her cheeks flame a darker shade of pink, and I’m not mad about it. I push even more.

“Should I be insulted that you insinuated that I’m only alittlebit decadent?”

“Insulted? No.” Rowan tosses her walking stick into the woods and stands next to the passenger side of my vehicle. “Your personality is too big to be insulted.”

“Ouch.” I cover my heart with my hand and her eyes grow wide.

“Oh my gosh, Miles. I didn’t mean that as an insult.” She wraps her fingers around my wrist and squeezes. “I only mean you’re always full of joy and positive energy. Chocolate is more like therapy or a sinful treat.”

“You don’t think I can be therapeutic or a sinful treat?”

“Your jokes are most definitely therapy.”

Ouch. Another jab. I’m sure she doesn’t mean it that way. Rowan is the sweetest person I know and would be mortified at herself if she thought she was insulting someone. I’ve never heard her say a negative thing about anyone.

I unlock the door and wait until she fastens her seatbelt before rounding the hood.

She doesn’t think I can be a sinful treat? Well, fuck. Challenge accepted.

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