Page 9 of The Rules of Dating a Younger Man

“Well, that’s true. And it’s why my buddies can’t be here most weekends, although they’re coming up tomorrow. All of my close friends have kids now.”

“Tell me about your friends,” I said, shuffling the ice in my water glass.

“Ryan was the fifth in our crew. We all grew up together in Pennsylvania. Colby, Holden, Owen, and me. Ryan left us a large amount of money after he passed away, and we used it to buy the building we all live in. We rent out the other units.”

“So you’re a landlord.”

“I am.”

“Impressive.”

“Not really. I’m much prouder of my work in prosthetics and with Ryan’s House.”

“Of course, but I mean, it’s impressive that you all came together and put that money to good use rather than wasting it. Investing it in real estate was a smart idea.” I smiled. “And I assume it’s pretty cool living in the same building as your friends.”

“And then we all go down to Central Perk for coffee,” he quipped.

I snapped my fingers. “Oh, right. Like the show. I thought you were too young to remember Friends.”

“Ouch.” He laughed. “Admittedly, I used to watch that show in my Superman pajamas. So perhaps you’re not totally off-base.”

“Those must have looked adorable on you.”

He sighed. “Actually, it is fun living in the same building as my friends, but the drawback is that we’re always up in each others’ business.” He cocked his head. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“That was an abrupt change in topic.”

“That’s how I roll when I’m curious about something…or someone.”

“No. I’m not, at the moment.”

“So you’ve dated here and there since your husband passed away...”

“Yeah. Lots of bad apples, for the most part. No one serious.” Certainly no one I have chemistry with like you.

“Well, someone like you can afford to be picky.”

“Thank you, but that’s assuming there are lots of great choices.” I chomped on some ice. “Most of the men in my age bracket are divorced, with complicated baggage. And if they’re not… Let’s just say there’s often a good reason they never got married.”

“See?” Brayden wriggled his brows. “This is exactly why you should go younger.”

“Let me guess, you know just the person for me.”

“He even likes the same bourbon as you.”

I chuckled.

After our food arrived, the easy conversation continued to flow nicely. Once we’d devoured our pizza and eggplant, I decided to just ask already. “How old are you anyway?” I’d joked earlier that he was young enough to be my son, but I knew that was an exaggeration.

“Thirty-one. I’ll be thirty-two this year.” He shrugged. “See? I have nothing to hide.” He grinned. “What was your guess?”

“Anywhere from twenty-five to thirty.”

His eyes widened. “Damn. Twenty-five?”

“That was a worst-case scenario,” I admitted.

He sighed.