She retracted her hand once she was sure he didn't want to talk about it anymore. Not that it would have bothered her if he had, she just didn't expect it. From what little she knew of men, they weren't the types to dwell on emotions like...well, she was. Perhaps it was the hidden romantic in her.
Rosie found herself laughing a little as he listed his favorite books. She wasn't going to condescend! As a little girl, she had adored the same novels as well. It was just amusing to have the titles of such brought back to her attention. "The Hardy Boys! I haven't read those in ages. I was a Nancy Drew girl myself, until I grew old enough to become bored with the similar structures in plot. Have you read any Agatha Christie? I devoured Murder on the Orient Express. I've been meaning to look at her other novels, but I have a terrible tendency to buy too many books. I have an entire shelf I'm still meaning to read."
And there she went...talking too much. Rosie felt more than a little like an idiot.
"I loved Tom Sawyer. Oh, and I also loved Little Women and To Kill a Mockingbird as a child. I suppose those two aren't exactly your typical adventure, though."