Page 55 of Her Mercenary

My brows arched. “Please and thank you ...” I swallowed the gooey morsels. “Did you attend a Gary Chapman lecture while I was asleep?”

“Who’s Gary Chapman?” Roman asked disinterestedly, his full focus on feeding me another bite.

His hair was mussed in a sexy, bedhead kind of way. His eyes were alert, solely focused on me. I noticed the little lines around his eyes, and the beginnings of deeper ones on his forehead. The gray threads at his temples, in his thickening five-o’clock shadow.

Roman was all man. Strong, confident, and intimidating in the sexiest way. I wondered what he thought of my age. If it mattered to him. If I mattered to him.

And what a crazy thought.

“The Five Love Languages, the bestselling book ...” I paused as I was force-fed another chunk of granola. “He’s the author.” I stared at Roman’s blank expression. “You have no idea ... okay, then. Anyway ...”

“There are five love languages?” he asked, bewildered by this.

“Yes.” I swallowed a laugh. “Words of affirmation, gifts, acts of service, quality time, and physical touch.”

His brow cocked with a sudden interest in the subject. “Define acts of service.”

“Not like that, you pervert.”

When a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, little bubbles of excitement tickled my stomach. God, I loved to make him smile.

I took the granola from his hand, feeling a renewed rush of energy. Feeling like a totally different person.

I regarded him closely. “Based on your immediate interest in acts of service, I’m going to say your love language is number five, physical touch.”

“Every man’s language is physical touch.”

“Not true.”

“I’m willing to place a bet on this one, Sam.”

Sam.

“According to Gary Chapman, quality time is the most common love language, followed by physical touch and words of affirmation for men. Words of affirmation would most likely apply to an insecure man. There are many of those in the world, trust me on this, and you do not fit in this category. Quality time would be a man who is conformable in close proximity to others, and places high value on the friendships and relationships in their lives—you do not.”

“Incorrect. I value a few people. Would die for them, actually.”

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t cuddle up and watch a movie with them.” When he shrugged, I continued. “Acts of service wouldn’t fit you because you’re obviously a solitary soul and a control freak. Lastly, receiving gifts—also not you. You can’t even handle the emotion of a simple thank-you.”

Roman frowned. “I’m not sure I like the picture of the man you painted.”

I shrugged, mocking him. “You are physical touch, no doubt about it.”

“What about you?” he asked, handing me the canteen.

I sipped, then swallowed. “What about me?”

“What’s your ... language, or whatever.”

I sighed. “Unfortunately, words of affirmation.”

“Why unfortunately?”

“Unfortunately because I’ve yet to meet a man with the emotional maturity to speak this love language to me.”

Or love me at all in the first place.

“Emotions make you messy,” he said.