Page 42 of Passenger Princess

There’s exasperation in his tone as I pick his phone back up, tap on his emails, find the location of the next hotel andtype it into the navigation before handing him back his phone and sitting back in my seat with what I’m sure is a smug smile.

“That you’re in love with me.”

A long beat passes, during which I assume he won’t say anything, so I pick my book back up and start to read. But a few long minutes later, under his breath, I hear him.

“You know, Peach, your mom might be cute, but she’s a real pain in the ass.”

And honestly?

I’ll call that one a win.

“So those books…they’re all romance?” he asks an hour or so later once I close my book for a short break, stretching my neck and pulling Peach from him into my lap for some snuggles.

“Yup.”

“What’s your favorite kind?”

“What?”

“There are different kinds, right? Like funny ones, sad ones…”

I put a hand to my chest and gasp. “Are you asking my favorite tropes?”

“I have no clue. Maybe?”

“Well, since you asked.” I turn to him. “I like rom-coms most, romantic comedies. They’re a little funny and goofy, and kind of outrageous, but that’s the fun of them. I love grumpy sunshine, forced proximity, opposites attract.” I pause, then smile. “We fit a lot of my favorite tropes,” I say, thinking about it. “Even big, big man, small, small girl.”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before looking at me. “Do I even want to know what that means?”

“You know, she’s small and short and dainty. He’s a big, tall, muscled man. It’s hot, but I always wonder about the logistics. Just look at you and me. You’re a giant. We’d never be able to do doggy,you know?” I expect him to blush, to stutter, even to groan, the way he does when I say anything like that.

“It would work, trust me,” he says instead, shocking me and causing me to sit there, blinking at him. I don’t miss the tiny tip of his lips.

Silence fills the car as I try and process that bomb he just dropped before he speaks.

“Why only romance?”

“Because I like them and I don’t like other genres as much. I don’t believe in doing things in life just because it's what other people think you should be doing.”

“Hmm,” he says.

“Plus, who doesn’t love the idea of love? Of falling in love and falling in lust. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world. When you read romance, you get to watch it over and over in different ways—what’s there not to love?”

There's another pause, and I think that's it for the conversation before he breaks the silence again.

“But you…you don’t have a man?” he asks, seeming confused.

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

I shrug. “Haven’t found anyone I like enough to spend more than a couple weeks with. Life is too short for that. I’ve seen friends date men who are all kinds of wrong for them just because it was comfortable or he checked just enough boxes to make sense. I don’t want someone whomakes sense. I want someone I’m crazy for.” I shrug again, feeling much too under the microscope for comfort. “When I find him, I’ll know, and that will be that. Could be next week, could be in forty years. I’m not putting my life on hold just because I’m waiting for some man.”

Jaime looks at me quickly before returning his eyes to the road. “That’s pretty wise, coming from a self-centered beauty queen, you know?”

There’s a small smile on his lips, and I gape at him before laughing and slapping his arm.

“I can’t believe you actually just told ajoke. And that it was kind of funny.”

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