Page 99 of Winning Winnie’s Hand

“You weren’t allowed?”

She should have known that’s what he’d fixate on. It was strange.

“Yeah,” she said with a shrug. “My parents wanted us to focus on more important things than media, so we could only ever watch documentaries and things like that. I made up for it in college, though. My roommates made sure of that.”

Since her parents didn’t believe in watching films that had no educational purpose, she and her roommates had stayed up every night, binge-watching all the shows and movies from every genre they recommended. Chick-flicks, historical romances, horrors, adventures, sci-fi, fantasy. She’d seen more in those few years than she had in her entire life. While she loved it, watching so many films also made it more difficult to continue getting straight A’s, which her parents required.

Matthew didn’t respond, the wheels in his head still clearly turning.

“So are you gonna tell me what movie it was?” she asked, desperate to divert the attention away from her controlled life.

“Oh, Harry Potter,” he responded. “He and Hermione sit atop here in Deathly Hallows, Part One.” Then he looked at her sidelong. “I take it you don’t remember the scene.”

“Um, no,” she said. “I don’t remember much of the series.”

“Well, you ought to watch them again. Or rather, you ought to read the books.”

She shrugged. “If I had the time I would. Probably.”

“Maybe I’ll make it a goal to make you a Potterhead by the end of this trip.”

“And how would you manage to accomplish that?”

He shrugged. “I have my ways. Just like I’m going to convince you to bring the damsel in distress back to the jousting tournament.”

She laughed. “Good luck with that. But, wait, I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about work?”

“All right. Correction. I can. You can’t.” He walked across the cracked top of the cove. “What’s your problem with having a damsel anyway? Too un-feminist for you?”

She followed after him, focusing her eyes on the large gaps between the limestone to avoid tripping. “Exactly. And like I said before, we’re in the twenty-first century.”

“What’s so outdated and terrible about being a damsel in distress?” he continued, sidestepping a large crack.

“It just insinuates that women can’t take care of themselves when we’re perfectly capable of doing so.”

“And can you always?” he asked.

She thought for a minute. “We ought to be able to.”

“Then is it wrong for men to need help every once in a while?”

“No.”

“So what’s with the double standard, Miss Knox?”

She pulled in her lips, staring at the back of his head. Honestly, he had a point. But it was different. Wasn’t it? “I dunno. I just—Oh!”

Her foot caught against one of the crags sticking up, and she launched forward toward Matthew. He turned just in time, wrapping his hands around her and steadying her.

She breathed hard, righting herself at once and smoothing down her jacket. “Blasted boots.”

“Oh, come now,” Matthew said. “Don’t be blaming them when the limestone is at fault.”

She glanced up at him, seeing him fight off a smile.

“What?” she demanded. He had to be laughing at her tripping.

“I just think it’s ironic. For someone who doesn’t like being rescued, you do find yourself in a lot of situations requiring rescuing.”