Blakely Foxx is about to turn the big 4-0 and Slade Henderson thinks she's hotter because of it.
Flirting with 40 by K. Bromberg is now live!
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Excerpt
“The way I look at it, you owe me one.” His voice is just loud enough for me to hear over the din of the restaurant.
“I owe it to you?” I sputter.
“Mm-hm.” He nods resolutely as he puts more space between us, and my lungs find a way to breathe. “You ran out the other night without giving me a chance. I could be the best thing that ever happened to you—platonic or otherwise—and you might have missed that opportunity if we hadn’t run into each other on the street this afternoon.”
Or otherwise?
He’s talking nonsense but is doing it so convincingly that I try to talk myself out of what he’s successfully talking me in to. “I don’t—”
“Does my age unnerve you?” he asks.
“Your age doesn’t matter.”
“Exactly.” He smirks. “So, why are you making it matter?”
I walked right into that one.
“We’re at different phases of our lives. You’re in your residency. I’m a divorcée with baggage—”
“Everyone has baggage. It just looks different from person to person.” He leans back in his chair. “What are you afraid of? Getting to know someone new? Taking a chance? Stepping outside of the box for once? Finding yourself again?”
His words root deep into me and take hold. “I appreciate you trying . . . but we’ll never pull it off.”
“Yes, we could.”
“No one would ever believe it.”
“Quit letting them—whoever they are—put you in a mold, Blakely. Make your own damn mold. You might surprise yourself in the process.” His dimples deepen, and his eyes are as unwavering as his resolve.
“How do I know you aren’t some Ted Bundy in waiting?”
His laugh is throaty and rich and draws the stares of those around us. “I’m in the business of saving lives, not taking them.” He takes a sip of his beer. “Next excuse?”
“I’m . . .” I’m at a loss, and a small thrill of adrenaline shoots through me. This isn’t something I’d ever do, and yet, the idea of it is invigorating, almost freeing. I chew the inside of my cheek as I contemplate agreeing to Slade’s crazy scheme.
“What do you say?”
Say yes.
“It isn’t a crime for a younger man to think an older woman is attractive.”
I bite my bottom lip as the smile creeps around it.
He is drop-dead handsome.
“We go as friends. I help you out. No strings attached.”
The answer is yes.
“When’s the last time you threw caution to the wind? When’s the last time you did something unexpected no matter how small?” he asks.
It’s always yes.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” I mutter.
“Saying what?”
“Fine. Yes. Okay.”
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