Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
It’s my turn to grunt. “Barely. And you wouldn’t date someone that much younger. If memory serves, when you were on the market, you only dated older women.”
“That’s because I’m an old soul,” Nix says, making me roll my eyes. “I am!”
“And I’m not?” I counter. “You think your soul stays young when you have two kids under the age of five? Hell, Bella just started sleeping through the night a year ago. I’m still sleep-deprived from her babyhood. I don’t have the energy to keep up with a woman in her early twenties.”
I don’t, which is why Clover is off-limits.
And if I can’t be with Clover, why would I bother with this redhead? Who is likely not nearly as interesting or smart or kind or talented as Clover, and doesn’t hold a candle to her in the looks department?
I’m not a shallow man, or at least I try not to be, but Clover is…something else. Every part of her is more perfect, more beautiful than the last.
You should bother with the redhead because the redhead isn’t your nanny, the inner voice pipes up. And you’re not already obsessed with the redhead. Maybe you could actually have something casual and fun with her.
As if eavesdropping on my brain chatter, Nix says, “You don’t have to keep up with someone in her twenties forever. You just…ask her on a date and make sure she knows it’s casual. That you’re just dipping a toe back into the dating scene. Then, you two enjoy each other for however long it lasts.” His shoulders lift. “There’s nothing wrong with casual dating, you know. Or even just hooking up. A lot of women like a low-stress situation, too.” He pulls in a breath before adding, “And the redhead definitely wants casual. Filthy and casual…”
I frown harder and take a long pull on my beer, wishing that sounded good to me. But it doesn’t. Not even a little bit.
“What’s up?” Charlotte, Nix’s fiancée, joins us, a glass of white wine in hand. “I’m not interrupting serious talk, am I?”
I shake my head. “Not at all.”
“We just finished that part,” Nix says, grinning. “I tried, but Dean isn’t into redheads. At least not that one.”
Charlotte huffs. “Of course, he’s not. I told you he wouldn’t be. She’s practically a fetus.”
Eyes widening, I motion Charlotte’s way. “See? She gets it.”
“I do,” Charlotte assures me. “And don’t worry, I have my eye out for an age-appropriate match for you. Just let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll narrow the search and provide an intro. But in the meantime…” She rests a hand on Nix’s shoulder. “I need you for a second, babe. My contact for the film festival last year just texted. Their organizer at the Colorado event bailed, and they need emergency help next week. I think I can free up a few days to fly out, but I wanted to check with you and coordinate our schedules before I said yes.”
Nix steps away from the railing. “Sure, yeah. I’m sure we can make it work.” He claps me on the shoulder as they move away. “Congrats again, man. You really are an inspiration. Especially for those of us without dad bod bakery empires in our future.”
I laugh and lift a hand. “Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”
But I’m not sure I do…
I don’t like feeling like the pathetic old fogey of the team, the one my teammates feel sorry for, and go out of their way to try to set up with puck bunnies. I am not a charity case. I’ve never had problems with women. Quite the opposite, in fact. In the early years of our marriage, Frederica used to joke about having to beat other women off of me with a hockey stick when we went out.
And sure, I’m older now, and a single dad, but if I wanted a girlfriend—or a one-night stand—it wouldn’t take much effort to make that happen. Not because I’m such a catch, necessarily, but I’m a decent guy who keeps my promises and respects women.
Sadly, in today’s dating market, that bare minimum is enough to ensure I have my pick of incredible women. I could likely get a “yes” to a date from any single woman in this building.
Any single woman except the one bent over the pool table across the room, looking so different than when she walked into Packy’s, that I’m just now realizing the leggy woman by puck bunnies is Clover.
My Clover.
My Clover, with a crowd of men surrounding her as she bends to take a shot, causing her tight jeans to stretch even tighter across her ass…
I freeze with my beer halfway to my mouth, already planning elaborate ways to disembowel the two frat boys staring at her backside with matching smirks.
Fifteen
DEAN
What the fuck is she wearing?