Page 7 of The Rules of Dating a Younger Man
“There’s a lot of light in the living room,” I told him. “So your color is going to look more green than it appears on the little paint sample square, even though mine is only a shade different. The adjoining kitchen is going to have blue tile, so I thought the one I picked would coordinate better, yet still keep to the color palette you’d selected.”
“I can see that now.”
I squinted. “Can you? Or are you still kissing ass to make up for what you said last night?”
Brayden smiled. “No, I actually do notice the difference now. But I couldn’t on the paint website, so I thought you were just being difficult.”
“You see?” I plucked the sample square from his hands. “There’s a method to my madness after all.”
When we returned to the project house, Brayden pulled to the curb. “Do you have to go back inside, or are you done for the day?”
“I’m all done and ready for my volunteers tomorrow.”
“Would you want to get something to eat?”
I nibbled on my lip. “Are you asking as colleagues or as a date?”
“What if I say a date?”
“Considering you’re young enough to be my son, I’d have to decline.”
Brayden’s face scrunched up. “There’s no way in hell you’re old enough to be my mother. Not unless you’ve got the fountain of youth at that medi-spa of yours.”
“Maybe not physically, but I have a stepdaughter who is probably close to your age. And my guess is I have ten years on you, at least.”
“How old is she?”
“Thirty. My husband was seventeen years older than me.”
He shrugged. “So you didn’t care about an age gap when you married him. Why do you care now?”
I smiled. “It’s not a good idea, Brayden.”
“Alright, so we’ll have dinner as colleagues.”
I wanted to. Really, really wanted to. Which is why I knew I needed to say no. I sighed. “Thank you for the invite. But I think I’m going to have a quiet dinner alone.”
He frowned. “Fine. Where did you park? I’ll drop you at your car.”
I pointed to the car directly in front of his. “I’m right there. Have a good night, Brayden.”
He sulked. “You, too.”
I got out of the car and walked to mine. Just as I opened the door, Brayden rolled down his window.
“Hey, Alex?”
“Yes?”
“You might be a stepmom, but I don’t know any moms who look like you.”
CHAPTER 3
Alex
That night, I decided to have dinner at the hotel restaurant. In retrospect, that was probably a stupid idea if I was trying to avoid Brayden. I realized my mistake the moment he waltzed in, looking so freaking good I wanted to scream.
He wore a navy polo and dark jeans, the thick watch around his wrist the perfect complement to his sexy hands. When he noticed me sitting in the corner, the way his eyes creased as he pretended to be surprised was so freaking adorable.