FLIRTING WITH 40

by K. Bromberg

  I laugh. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I’m disappointed in you because you don’t plan on getting any action.”

  “I’ve known the guy a few days. What am I supposed to do? Jump into bed with him and have wild, crazy sex?”

  “Yes.” She nods definitely. “That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.”

  “I don’t do one-night stands, Kels. That isn’t me.”

  “Good thing the retreat is longer than one night.” She waggles her eyebrows. “Because five-night stands are way better. You can have first-time sex. You can have skinny-dipping sex. Rebound sex. Picnic-table sex. Just think of all the fun you’ll be having.”

  “Will you listen to yourself?”

  “I am, and I’m getting all hot and bothered thinking about it.”

  “You have something seriously wrong with you,” I say but laugh. “There will be none of that. We’ll be at a campground for god’s sake. Think a big communal room with bunk beds, footy pajamas, and no privacy. Besides—”

  “There is no besides. There are no footy pajamas. Communal bunk beds or not, you can still get some action and walk around with the biggest, smuggest grin to let all the other ladies know just who Slade is sliding it into.”

  “Nothing is going to happen.”

  “Shhh. I’m not listening to you because I’m too busy making up all kinds of sexy scenarios that are going to happen—kisses against trees, blowjobs behind the dining hall . . .” She wiggles her shoulders as if she’s imagining each and every one of them. “I’m going to live vicariously through you.”

  “Pine tree needles stuck where they shouldn’t be, mosquito bites on my ass.”

  “Sometimes incredible sex comes with a few hazards. I’m sure you’re willing to accept those if the trade-off is toe-curling orgasms.”

  “Whatever.” I roll my eyes but will admit to myself I’ve thought way too much about the other night at Metta’s. About his lips whispering in my ear. About the too-long stares across the table. About the bear hug and kiss on the cheek when we parted.

  “Come on, the man has a to-do list for you guys. And right on top, written in invisible ink, is that he wants to-do you.”

  “He’s just being nice. And organized and . . .”

  “Nice, handsome, sexy, and let’s not forget a freaking heart surgeon. It’s perfect that he knows how to mend a broken heart.”

  “My heart is just fine, thank you.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “The last thing it needs is to be involved in anything with anyone for the time being.”

  “That’s exactly why this whole situation is perfect. He’s obviously into you or else he wouldn’t be doing this. You need to have some after-Paul sex to wake up your lady parts so you realize what you’re missing. A rebound of epic proportions. What better way to ease your toes into the dating pool than with some sexy, hot doctor?”

  “Easier said than done.”

  “Who cares if it’s for a night or a week or a month? You played the part of the polished, pretentious wife for too long, it’s about time you do what you want without caring what anyone thinks. You know for sure that I’m not going to be the one judging you.”

  “I know, but . . .” My sigh fills the room and smothers the excitement she just filled it with. She notices it right away and moves to sit on the coffee table in front of me so I can’t avoid her stare.

  “Hey.” She waits until I look at her. “What’s wrong? Talk to me. Tell me why you’re struggling so hard with this?”

  Where do I start when I feel like there is so much wrong with me?

  “Why is it so hard for me to accept this? To think that Slade might actually like me?” I look down at my hands clasped on top of my lap. I think of the last line on Slade’s to-do list and know that’s the problem. “I swore that when the divorce was final, I was going to be this bigger and better person. That I was going to be more spontaneous. Care more about my wants and less about what others expected. But you know what, Kels? It’s really hard to be this new me, and I’m not exactly sure how to wear the shoes yet.”

  She puts her hand on my knee and squeezes, giving me a moment to get my emotions in check. “For the record, I still like the old you.”

  “The old me was a pair of granny panties.” I laugh. “I don’t want to be granny panties anymore. I want the new me to be—”

  “A G-string?”

  “More like lacy, sexy, boy shorts,” I say.

  “Substance, coverage in all the right areas, but sexy as hell when they need to be.”

  I look at her and shake my head until the tightening in my throat manifests into tears welling in my eyes. “I’m sick of being the perfect ex-wife who pretends that everything is fine and then cries into her pillow at night because she failed. I’m sick of being the always-cautious, always-worried-what-others-think Blakely Foxx who is so sick of taking everyone’s shit but smiles anyway.”

  “I don’t know who you are or what you’ve done with my friend.” She laughs, her face lighting up. “But I like where you’re going with this.”

  “I’m here. Still the same but trying to be different . . . and as hard as it is to admit, I’m scared as hell about this week.”

  “What about it?”

  “Just the million things that could go wrong. What if we don’t get along? What if he ends up being a jerk? What if I make things worse at work? What if they find out we’re not really a couple? What if—”

  “What if you two hit it off and a real connection is made? What if he makes you laugh till it hurts and things go well? There are positives that could happen here, you know?”

  I flop back on the couch and cover my eyes with my hands. “This has all the makings of a rom-com movie disaster. You know the kind—”

  “Where the heroine is a wreck, the hero is a prick, and their whole plan goes to hell?”

  “If you want to put it that way.” I nod.

  “Just remember that the girl always gets the guy in the end.”

  “This isn’t fiction.”

  “No, but it’s going to be so much better.”

  We sit in silence, the years of friendship between us have her giving me the space I need to process everything she’s said. To finally admit what she already knows.

  “I like him. A lot. And . . . maybe I’m afraid that I do. And perhaps, I’m scared that I like him simply because he’s the first man to really pay attention to me—”

  “Plenty have paid attention,” she murmurs and holds up her hand to stop my argument. “You’re just too busy not being interested to notice.”

  “But I am interested this time, and I’m questioning why I am and why he is, and that leads me to wonder if I would be enough for him. I mean I’ve only been with one man in the last twenty years. How do I know if things are done differently nowadays?”

  Her grin tugs a smile out of me. “I assure you sex is done the same.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I do know. I know it’s scary and probably exhilarating all at the same time, but I say go for it. I say be the lacy boy shorts. The kind Slade can’t wait to rip off you before ravishing you.”

  “Ravish?”

  “Ravish,” she repeats with a nod. “And I have no doubt he will, and you’ll do just fine with it. In fact, you’ll actually enjoy it.”

  “We’ll see about that.” I chuckle.

  “I believe I said you’d see him again and he’d go on the retreat with you, right?” She throws her hands up. “Then, out of the blue, it happened, so I wouldn’t doubt me. I do believe I might have some kind of magical powers.”

  I throw a pillow at her. “I’m not going to encourage that theory for fear of your head getting so big it will never fit through the doorway.”

  “I have powers, so I’m sure I can manage regardless of the size of the doorway.” Kelsie follows me into the kitchen where I start to clean up our leftover charcuterie board. “Your plan is to l
eave together in the morning?”

  “Mm-hm.” I toss a napkin into the trash. “We’ll figure out our story on the way up to the mountains. Three hours is a lot of time to kill.”

  “Are you sure that’s enough time?” she asks as she pops an olive into her mouth.

  “He had plans already. Who am I to ask for more time from him when he’s already giving me five days . . . you know?”

  “I do, but I know how your little planning heart is probably having a freak out over not knowing it already.”

  “I’m fine. It’s fine. I just need to pack and then I’m set.”

  My phone on the counter rings, and I jump at the sound. Before I can grab it, Kelsie has it in her hand. “Speak of the devil.” She holds my phone out so I can see his name on the screen. “Put him on speaker so I can hear his sexy voice.”

  “Give me the phone.” I stick my hand out, but there is a smile stuck on my face and a giddy feeling in my stomach, which is stupid considering I’m going to be seeing him tomorrow.

  In a move that’s high school-ish and annoying and very much Kelsie, she hits the answer button and hits speaker at the same time. “Hello?” she says just in time for me to grab my phone from her.

  “Hey.” Slade’s deep timbre comes through the speaker. It’s sex personified, and that along with all this talk of sex and rebounds with Kelsie has me thinking thoughts and creating scenarios Kels would be proud of. “You ready for tomorrow?”

  Kelsie holds the back of her hand to her forehead and mouths, Swoon.

  “Hi. Yes. Just doing some last-minute things.”

  “Forget those last-minute things. Put a jacket on and come meet us.”

  “What?” I laugh the word as if he’s crazy. “Where? Us? What are you talking about?”

  “Spontaneity, Blakely. That’s what I’m talking about.” There is someone laughing in the background as I turn my back to Kelsie and lean my hips against the counter. “My friends and I have a monthly bonfire down at the beach. I missed the last one, but I’m here. Right now. The waves are at my back and the fire is in front of me.”

  “And you want me there?”

  “Yes.” His laugh is carefree. “I realized you might have some reservations about hopping in a car and going on a trip with a man you only know about through his own comments.”

  “Seems like a rational thought.”

  “Then come hang out with us. Come get to know me and put your mind at ease. Get a head start on that last item on the to-do list.”

  Say yes.

  “I don’t want to intrude on your time with your friends.” It’s a total contradiction to the yes my head is telling me to say.

  “What better way to get to know me than through my friends? They’re brutally honest even when I don’t want them to be.”

  “Slade . . . I—”

  “C’mon, Blakely.” His voice is singsongy and possibly slightly buzzed, but the way he says my name makes me stand a bit taller. “Come put your toes in the sand for a bit.”

  “We’re leaving in the morning.”

  “The night’s still young.”

  “I—”

  “I’m not taking no for an answer. I’m texting you directions. See you in a bit,” he says before the call ends.

  “Seriously?” Kelsie says at my back. “You were actually going to say no to a voice like his and a request like that? Are you insane?”

  “Yes. No.” I blow out an audible sigh.

  But he called me.

  He asked me to go.

  When Kelsie moves to my line of sight, there is a stern expression on her face and her arms are crossed over her chest. The look in her eyes warns me she’s going to fight the old me from turning down his offer.

  And she’s right.

  This ends right here. Right now.

  Out with the granny panties. In with the lacy boy shorts.

  “I need to go get changed,” I say.

  Kelsie’s lips stretch into a grin as a loud whoop falls from her lips. “You are soooo getting laid this week.”

  Blakely

  The scene before me is gorgeous—moonlight over the water and fire dancing against the sand.

  I don’t have an excuse not to get out of my car. No barely there bikinis on drunken women. No frat boy atmosphere. Just a small group of friends, laughing and relaxing. I don’t have a reason to turn around and go home.

  Still, I sit and watch for a moment, getting the nerve to walk up to a group of people where I don’t know anyone save for Slade.

  Of the eight people sitting around the fire, there are an equal number of men and women. Some are sitting side by side, cuddled together, while others are standing with their hips swaying to the beat of music I can’t hear.

  Then there’s Slade. He’s sitting on a towel in the sand, a beer bottle is knocked on its side next to him, and the glow of the fire illuminates his hair. His expression is stoic, reflective maybe, and there is a soft smile on his lips as he stares at the embers.

  In that moment, I don’t know how I know that he’s going to be trouble for me, but I do. That disarming grin. That easy manner. The way he gets me to do things I’d never do like going to a bonfire on the beach the night before leaving for a trip.

  And I’ve only known him a week.

  I can do this. I can be lacy boy panties. I can . . . I can let whatever happens, happen.

  With a deep breath, I slide out of my car, my toes digging into the sand and the soft breeze off the ocean hitting my cheeks as I approach the group.

  I stand on the outskirts of their circle for a moment, not wanting to interrupt the story being told with wild gesticulations and animated expressions from the man still wearing his scrubs. But when Slade sees me, he rises from his seat in the sand, momentarily drawing the group’s attention to me.

  “Hi.” I hold up my hand in an awkward wave and look toward Slade.

  I swear my heart drops when he angles his smile my way. Dimples and warmth and excitement are etched in the lines of his face.

  I’m too old for this. Too old to have this giddy feeling when a man looks at me. Too old to allow myself to be fooled by a nice smile with dimples. Too old to believe it’s a good idea to throw caution to the wind and let the cards fall where they may.

  And yet . . .

  “You came,” he says and pulls me into him in an unexpected hug. He smells of sunshine and beer and citrus, and I feel like an idiot for just wanting to stay there and breathe him in, but I do.

  “Hi.”

  The hug ends, but he keeps his hand on my lower back as he turns toward the group. “Blakely, meet everyone. Everyone, meet Blakely.” There is a chorus of greetings that has me waving awkwardly again, but I’m met with smiles and warmth. “Do you want something to drink?”

  “I’m good.”

  “You sure?” he asks as he takes my hand as if it’s the most natural thing in the world and leads me over to where he was seated.

  “Yes. Thank you though.”

  He stretches out the towel and motions for me to sit as the guy who was telling his animated story continues on after my interruption. Slade settles beside me so we’re shoulder to shoulder, my body tensing as his breath hits my ear and he murmurs, “I’m glad you came.”

  I ignore the chills that chase over my skin. It’s just the ocean breeze. Even I don’t buy my own lie.

  “Thanks for inviting me.” I don’t turn to face him because, if I do, our faces would be inches from each other and too close to the kiss zone.

  “We do this once a month—those of us who aren’t on call anyway. Just a little time to unwind and relax after all the stress of the job. It forces us to get together outside of the hospital.”

  “Not a bad way to relax,” I say as laughter rumbles through the group.

  “Nah. Not on nights as pretty as this it isn’t.” He leans back on his hands and looks up at the stars glimmering above before those eyes of his find mine again. “They’re all pretty chill. John, Prish
a, and Leigh are residents with me. Jason and Carly are in pediatrics . . .” He goes through the list of everyone. “And I don’t expect you to remember any of that. In fact, it’s pretty lame I invited you down here to listen to John drone on, but I thought it might be a good way for you to see who I am so you aren’t worried that I’m a creep or some shit like that the whole trip.”

  “I’m not going to lie and say I haven’t thought it a time or ten,” I tease as he mocks taking offense before hitting my shoulder with his. “And I appreciate that it crossed your mind long enough to call me and invite me to come hang out with your friends.”

  The next hour is spent laughing at stories that are amusing to me but much funnier to those who understand the medical terminology being flung around like sight words in a kindergarten class. Slade leans in every few minutes to explain something when my expression clearly shows I don’t understand or to simply make sure I’m okay.

  But I’m more than fine as I sit back and listen to people who clearly understand and care for each other. There is a camaraderie between them, and they’ve included me in it without question. It’s nice to sit out under the stars with someone who holds no expectations. When I was with Paul, every outing came with a critical eye over what I was wearing and worries about whether I would pass the test of looking like an executive’s wife. Then came the list of what topics were off-limits with his clients and how I had to pretend the mistress or wife who the client was with last time didn’t exist.

  Too many things to keep straight. Too many lines I couldn’t cross. And yet this? Watching Slade toss a football in the moonlight with his friends while being warmed by a fire? It’s nothing like I expected it would be and, most likely, everything I didn’t know I needed.

  “So, you’re the one he’s been keeping tucked away from us,” a voice to my right says.

  I turn to find his friend, Prisha, taking a seat beside me. Her ink-black hair shimmers in the firelight, and her dark brown eyes are warm and inviting.

  “No.” I smile. “I’m not anything. We’re . . . just friends. I mean, we’ve only really known each other for a week. He’s helping me out with a work thing this week.”

  “Ah, the retreat.”