Page 26 of Flirting with 40

“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.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Blakely

Slade: Just making sure the number you gave me really is yours.

Me: Smartass.

Slade: Can you blame me?

Me: It’s me. I promise.

Slade: Sorry I had to bail from Metta’s.

Me: You had plans. No big deal.

Slade: You aren’t going to back out now, are you?

Me: No.