Page 5 of Flirting with 40

“See?” He nudges me. “Feels better, doesn’t it?”

I laugh. “Yes. Sure.”

“C’mon. You know it does.”

He’s right. It does. Even if it’s catty and childish, it does.

“So, tell me something, Blakely, do you have something against youthful vibes?” he asks innocently enough, and for the briefest of seconds, I forget that’s the term I used—youthful vibes—and almost choke on my drink.

“No. It’s more than that. It’s hard to explain.” I think back to the meeting I had this afternoon. How Heather shot down every one of my ideas—calling them dated despite their high-performance track record, while touting ideas that any high school student could think up as brilliant when the younger members of the team proposed them. Her disapproving looks and loud sighs every time I gave input tell me my concerns are warranted. She looks at me and sees a dinosaur she wants extinct.

“Do you like your job?”

“What?” I ask.

“Do you like it? Are you good at it?” There’s a nonchalance to the way he asks that doesn’t put me on the defensive like it may have had if my boss asked me that same question.

“I’m damn good at it. It’s my passion.”

He purses his lips and nods. “Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is I’ve worked my ass off for almost twenty years to be where I am. I started with Glam when they were nothing and helped them grow to be the well-known brand they are today. And when other, bigger companies, tried to woo me away, I didn’t stray. I’m a hard worker. I contribute. I deserve my position and the promotion . . .”

“But?” he prompts.

I hesitate because he doesn’t know me from Eve, and I’m definitely not his type, but what does it hurt to use the ear someone offers?

“I’m petrified of losing my position because I’m not who they—who Heather—wants me to be.”

“And who do they want you to be?”

“Hipper. Trendier. Without baggage.” I take a sip of my whiskey. “Whatever it is, I know I’m not it . . .”

He doesn’t respond, and when I glance his way, his lips are pursed and he’s nodding ever so subtly. He slides those mysterious colored eyes my way. “Know or feel?”

“What’s the difference?”

“Feeling is something that is fed by insecurities, knowing is something that is backed by facts.”

“Aren’t we full of wisdom?” I say and earn an adorable shrug and a lift of one of his eyebrows.

“It’s a rarity, but it peeks its head up every once in a while.” He looks to his left where someone has slid beside him and then turns back to me. “How is it you know Heather wants you gone?”

“It’s present here and there. It’s in how she talks to all of us in the meetings. The new people she’s brought on.” I chuckle, but it’s more to myself than him. “They hear how long I’ve been there, and instead of thinking wow, she has a breadth of knowledge that we can benefit from, they think, wow, she’s so old she can’t possibly know what’s trending now.” I add a smile to hide my defensiveness and pretend that I’m not bothered by it, but I’m not fooling anyone.

“You’re assuming though. There’s no way for you to know what they’re thinking.” He shrugs as if telling me my insecurity is what’s fueling my opinions is something I shouldn’t be offended by. “Flip it around. You think they’re judging you, but maybe you look at them as teenagers with acne and braces and judge them for not being old enough instead of giving them the benefit of the doubt that they’re qualified. It’s all a matter of perspective.”

“I can’t hide my age.” I snort, the effects of the whiskey starting to kick in and relaxing me a bit.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he murmurs and has no shame as his eyes stroll lazily up and down the length of my body. They stutter over my legs, which are crossed at the knee, and take in my nude heels before they crawl their way back up to meet my eyes.

I can’t recall the last time I was objectified so blatantly. I open my mouth to say something—to object out of principle—but why ruin the moment when I’m silently pumping my fist?

When the heat that’s left in the wake of his gaze is still warming my skin.

Then reality hits me.

Slade, with his perfectly trendy name and the sexy arm porn, is only doing this to throw a middle-aged woman like me a bone because he’s gay.