by K. Bromberg
This time he leans back, our eyes locked as our hearts beat in synch.
“Whew.” I look around the bar. “I sure hope he shows up tonight.”
It’s Slade’s turn to throw his head back and laugh, drawing the stares of those around us.
“Why’s that?” he asks over the rim of his glass, playing along.
“Because I have something important to give him.”
“His walking papers?”
“Nah.” I slide the Blade’s To-Do list across the bar top so it sits in front of him. “This.”
“What’s this?” he asks as he looks down, the soft chuckle on his lips falling silent when he sees it.
“A little something I crossed off tonight before I came here. It may have been a tad presumptuous, but there was no way in hell I was leaving anything to chance this time around.”
“A woman who takes charge. I kind of like it.”
“Someone taught me confidence was attractive.”
“It is. Howling at the moon is even sexier.”
“I believe I may have done that a time or two.”
“Don’t ever stop.”
The smile toys with the corner of his mouth as his fingers slide down and link with mine.
“This true?” he asks of the napkin, eyes intense, voice thick with emotion.
“Is it crazy if I say yes?” I whisper. “I never believed in love at first sight, but, Slade . . . I think you owned a little piece of my heart that first night when I walked out of here.”
“You’ve owned me since your first rant.”
Lovely. But isn’t that so perfectly us?
“I’ll make mistakes, but I’ll try to fix them.”
“I appreciate that.” He leans forward and kisses me. The kind of kiss that makes the ache begin to burn and the need begin to beg. “You know what I appreciate even more?”
“Hmm.”
“A completed To-Do list.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “Is that all you needed?” I tease. “Is that all it takes to turn you on?”
“No. You’re all I need, Blakely. You’re who I’d pick every time. Hands down.” Our lips meet again. “Just you.”
Blakely
Eighteen Months Later . . .
“Uneventful is good, right?”
“Uneventful is great, but while I admit that I’ll welcome the extra sleep next month when my residency ends, I’ll definitely miss that thrill of it all.”
“I’m sure you will,” I say as I look at the trees towering above us as we drive down the stretch of country road.
He asked if I wanted to go for a Saturday drive—somewhere out of the city, off the beaten path. Maybe grab a bite to eat at some unknown hole-in-the-wall or sit and watch the sunset at one of the many lakes not too far from the city.
Country-nature-y stuff I used to roll my eyes at but now realize is one of the ways Slade decompressed after a long week of saving and losing patients.
He squeezes my knee. “Everything going good with the party planning?”
“So far so good.”
“I’d tell you again that my mom is willing to fly in early to help, but that means she’d want to stay at my house, and my house means her being nosy, and her being nosy means no sex when you stay over so—”
“So no inviting her to help then.” I laugh and tilt my face up and close my eyes, enjoying the cool wind and warm sun coming in the open window. I love his mom. She’s everything I never had in a mother and more than anyone wants. God love her, her twenty questions, and her endless meddling.
I had considered trying to involve her in the planning stages of Slade and his friends’ graduation-type party for completing their residency and passing their boards, but the no sex thing made that a nonstarter. “Can you believe you’re almost an official attending? Long coat here you come.”
“It’s surreal,” he murmurs as he pulls off the main road, causing me to turn and stare at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Don’t worry, bunny boiler. I’m still not a Bundy.”
“Funny.” I look around at our surroundings on the narrow one lane road weaving itself through the trees. “But seriously. The sun is setting soon, I don’t want to get lost out here in the dark.”
“I wanted to check out this place that Ed told me about.”
“Ed?” I laugh his name out with affection woven into it, while shaking my head at the odd friendship the two of them fostered the past eighteen months. It’s definitely a strange pairing, but they text every once in a while, and Slade’s even gone fishing with him a time or two.
“Yeah. He has a friend who is selling a cabin up here. He told me to come check it out for him because it’s supposed to have a lake loaded with fish.”
“Is he planning on buying it?”
“Who knows,” he murmurs as the trees open to a clearing.
“How cute is that?” I say more to myself than to him. The small house has light gray clapboard siding with white shutters on its windows. A covered patio bends around the front with a raised deck to match. The steps leading up to the front door are worn in their centers and make me think of how many people have probably enjoyed this house over the years. There is a large patch of vibrant green grass next to where we park, but it’s the lake at the house’s back that catches my attention.
Peaceful.
That’s the first word that comes to mind.
“What are you—”
“It’s for sale,” Slade says without letting me ask the question as he slides out of the car. “Ed’s ankle is still tender from his fall, so he asked if I’d check it out for him.”
“So, you’re just going to go in?” I climb out of the car as he strides toward the front door like a man on a mission.
He turns around, holds his hands out, and gives me a roguish grin. “A little breaking and entering never hurt anyone.” He laughs as I stare wide-eyed at him. “Relax, Foxx. I have the code to the lockbox. Come on, check it out with me.”
I hurry after him, marveling at how much he’s made me step out of my comfort zone over the past year and a half: skinny dipping in the moonlight, making love during a roadside pitstop, singing at the top of my lungs during karaoke night. I thought I had been living before Slade Henderson, and now I know I had no clue what living really was.
Every day is definitely an adventure with him.
“It’s quaint, huh?” he asks as he jiggles the key in the lock as I walk up behind him and press a kiss to his shoulder.
“Sure.”
“I’ll make you love nature one of these days,” he teases.
“Hey.” I swat his ass. “I’ve gotten better and—oh.” I draw the word out as I step inside the cabin that looks nothing like I expected. The floors look like rustic barn wood with warm touches of grays and blues, but it’s the wall of windows that showcases the lake beyond that steals the show.
I walk toward it, my eyes drawn to the shadows of the trees falling over the lake and the colors the setting sun is slowly painting the sky. I’m mesmerized by the beauty and how serene it all looks and feels.
“Gorgeous, isn’t it?”
“The cabin or the view?” I ask.
“All three.”
“Three?” I turn to look at him.
“The cabin, the view, and you standing there.”
Swoon.
I stand there and blush as he peeks his head into the door off the great room. “Good-size master bedroom. En-suite bath.” He moves toward the windows and takes a right into what looks like a newly remodeled kitchen. “Nice appliances. Granite countertops.”
“No stairs except for the front ones. Do you think Ed could manage those all right?”
“Probably,” he says as he jiggles the handle of the door off the kitchen that leads to the back deck. “Let’s check out back.”
“Slade.” His name is an exasperated sigh.
“Humor me.”
“Fine.” I stroll over to where
he is. I don’t dare say this out loud, but if I were to ever want to buy a cabin, this would definitely be one I could wrap my head around.
It’s when I clear the back door that I falter in my tracks. Sure, the lake is beautiful, but Slade is standing next to what looks like a brand-new white porch swing with a ghost of a smile on his lips and a glass of wine held out to me.
“What is this?” I ask, a little taken back.
“I wanted to do something nice for you.” He shrugs sheepishly. “I rented it for a night, complete with the white porch swing and glass of wine that I owe you and will now have finally delivered on.”
“Slade.” My heart swells as I take the glass of wine from his hand before stepping forward and pressing a kiss to his lips. “All of this for me?”
“I can give you more if you keep that kiss coming.”
And I do as he puts his hand on the small of my back and pulls me against him. Our tongues meet and our soft sighs fill the twilight around us as we kiss.
I lean back and look at him, my brow raised as I look at the swing and then back at him. “Should I trust that this one isn’t going to fall?”
“I’m pretty sure this one is a little more solid than the one I rigged at the lodge.” He chuckles. “But you won’t catch me complaining about the outcome.”
It creaks when we sit on it, but it doesn’t fall. I snuggle into him and he wraps his arm around me and pulls me close much like he did that first night at the bonfire we still attend on a monthly basis with his colleagues.
“How the hell did we get here, huh?” he asks and presses a kiss to the top of my head. I close my eyes and revel in everything he makes me feel: safe, loved, cared for, respected, and whole.
“I don’t know, but I sure as hell wouldn’t change a thing.”
“There was something about you that first night, you know?” he says, his voice thick with emotion that has me looking up at him. “It was like I walked in and saw this gorgeous woman drinking a whiskey, and I was intrigued. Then you had the gall to ignore me.”
“I was making you work for it,” I tease, remembering how pissed I was that he didn’t leave me be.
Thank god he didn’t.
“The funny part is this has been the most effortless thing I’ve ever had to work at in my life. It just is with you, Blakely,” he says as I press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Before you, I thought there would have to be a trade-off—either a woman or my job. It is a demanding one, and I didn’t think I could give one hundred percent to both . . . but I was dead wrong. What I didn’t realize is that having you beside me makes work even better because I have someone to come home to at night. I have someone to share things with.”
“Where is all of this coming from?” I murmur as lights in the grass between where we’re sitting and the lake start to flicker to life.
“I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “Maybe I’m just realizing how grateful I am that you put up with my crazy, spontaneous ideas like taking a ride to the mountains when I know you hate them. Maybe it’s knowing that something I did put a smile on your face or feeling your kiss on my shoulder when you wake up and slide out of bed to let me get a few more hours of sleep.”
I repeat the same thing I tell myself all the time when it comes to Slade: he’s too good to be true.
And he is.
Thank god he’s mine.
“You know,” I say as more solar lights illuminate, “if you want to get in a tit-for-tat conversation about all the ways you’ve made me happy, I’d be more than willing to go there, but I think we’d be out here all night.”
“Perfect. The porch swing. Wine. A—”
“Mosquitos,” I say, and we both chuckle as a cricket to the right of us begins to chirp. “We could make a list then. Compare notes. You know, typical date-night behavior.”
“Ah, a woman after my own heart, offering up list making as a romantic pastime.”
“What can I say, you’ve converted me.”
He clears his throat. “There’s only one thing left on my list right now.”
“Oh really? What’s that? Sex on the patio with the crickets watching?”
His smile pulls up one corner of his mouth. “Not a bad idea, but not the one I had forefront in my mind.”
“You’re turning down sex? Geez. Eighteen months and the spontaneity and passion are gone,” I tease.
“Not gone.” He chuckles softly. “They’re only just beginning, Blakely.”
“What?” I turn to look at him. There’s emotion welling in his eyes, and I see he’s holding something out to me. “What is . . .” but the words fade as my fingers hold the worn and tattered napkin from Metta’s all those months ago.
And I choke over a surprised sob when I see the last line item.
“Slade?” I ask when my eyes are very capable of reading what he’s written.
“I mean it. You’re it for me, Blakely. The beginning, the end, and every breath and moment between. Sometimes it’s hard to fathom that it doesn’t get any better than this, but when it comes to us, I truly believe it doesn’t. I fall more in love with you every single day, and I know that we’ve never really talked about if you want to get married again, and if you don’t, I understand, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to know I still want to spend the rest of our lives together in whatever capacity that might be. And—”
“Will you stop talking?” I laugh the words out as I thread my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and pull him toward me for a kiss, much the same way he did me that night we decided there was an us.
This time, there is something a little sweeter about our kiss, something a bit more poignant in the moment. This time, it tastes like tomorrows and forevers and all the things you want to share with someone. This time I know it’s real.
“Blakely—”
“Will you stop trying to convince me when I already know how I feel. When I already know—”
“Don’t you need a ring to—”
“I don’t care about a ring. I only care about you. About us. And—oh my god, it’s gorgeous.” I stare at the diamond sparkling in the rising moonlight as tears well in my eyes. “It’s . . . Slade.” I look up to him while I’m at a total loss for words and see tears glistening in his eyes too. “Yes. The answer is always a million times over, yes, when it comes to you.”
Our lips meet through our smiles and the taste of tears on our tongues, my heart irrevocably his. And our kiss turns into laughter that echoes all around us as if the forest around us is joining in our happiness too.
“Thank god you said yes. You know how I like my task lists completed.”
“Oh geez.” I roll my eyes.
“I guess this would be a good time to tell you I bought this cabin too.”
“You what?” I shriek.
And, this time, when I launch myself at him, we fall clumsily into the grass.
Our kisses turn to sighs.
Our sighs turn into moans.
And we make love for the first time with so much promise before us. With a future we can’t wait to fully live out.
Slade Henderson asked me to marry him.
Me.
I guess forty isn’t so bad after all.
Blakely
I hope you enjoyed Slade and Blakely’s story in Flirting with 40. Up next I have the continuation of my Play Hard series. Four books about four different sisters trying to help their dad save their family sports management agency. You can check out the books in there series here:
Hard to Handle—Out Now—Click to Buy
Hard to Hold—Out December 1, 2020—Click to Preorder
Hard to Score—Out February 16, 2021—Click to Preorder
Hard to Lose—Out March 17, 2021—Click to Preorder
I’d like to thank my crew. The women I’ve met along this journey, who I’ve chosen to surround myself with. Some are fellow authors, some are readers, some are professionals, but all are now considered friends. It’s not of
ten you get to do a job you love . . . and these ladies only add to the experience.
New York Times Bestselling author K. Bromberg writes contemporary romance novels that contain a mixture of sweet, emotional, a whole lot of sexy, and a little bit of real. She likes to write strong heroines and damaged heroes who we love to hate but can’t help to love.
A mom of three, she plots her novels in between school runs and soccer practices, more often than not with her laptop in tow and her mind scattered in too many different directions.
Since publishing her first book on a whim in 2013, Kristy has sold over one and a half million copies of her books across twenty different countries and has landed on the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestsellers lists over thirty times. Her Driven trilogy (Driven, Fueled, and Crashed) is currently being adapted for film by the streaming platform, Passionflix, with the first movie (Driven) out now.
With her imagination always in overdrive, she is currently scheming, plotting, and swooning over her latest hero. You can find out more about him or chat with Kristy on any of her social media accounts. The easiest way to stay up to date on new releases and upcoming novels is to sign up for her newsletter or follow her on Bookbub.
