FLIRTING WITH 40

by K. Bromberg

  “Sorry,” Slade says as he almost loses his balance. “This isn’t the easiest thing to do for a guy who’s never done it before.”

  “Would you like me to paddle over and try to help you pose?” she asks, turning on the charm. I get the glare, and he gets the offer. Figures.

  “I’m good,” he says. “Carry on.”

  And she does. She moves us through the mountain pose, forward bend, cobra pose, and downward dog, all of which I know by name now because she repeats them so many times. It’s as if she’s trying to convince us that she really knows her stuff. And with each repeat of the pose, I can see Slade not only struggling with his balance like I am but also fighting back his amusement over how damn serious she’s taking this.

  Or maybe I’m just distracted by him.

  I know I’m supposed to have my head down for the current pose, but I look up to take in everyone around me. They all look so serious and are trying so hard that it makes me think I’m the one being a judgmental bitch.

  Or maybe they are all just better at faking it.

  I hear a snickering to my left and look beneath my raised arms to Slade, who is failing horribly to succeed at the pose. Our eyes meet, and the snicker he has turns into a laugh.

  “Can we please try to focus?” she asks, becoming irritated.

  But Slade’s laugh is contagious.

  So much so, that I start giggling.

  Then, of course, he laughs harder and loses his balance, which wasn’t that great to begin with. I break my pose, unable to hold my laughter in anymore, and just as I do, Slade loses his struggle to stay on his board. Rather than falling innocently into the water, he shifts his weight to the side I’m near so that when he hits the water, his body hits the edge of my board, taking me down with him.

  When I resurface, I’m giggling so hard I can barely breathe. Slade’s beside me, helping to push me toward my upside-down board, coughing through his own laughter.

  Conveniently, his hand finds my ass and squeezes. I yelp and splash water in his face, both of us going under water again before surfacing in another fit of laughter.

  For a minute, I forget that everyone is around us. I’m lost in the moment of our laughter and the water and not caring, which is the best feeling ever.

  I float on my back until my giggles subside and my feet hit another paddleboard. I look up to see Buff Becky biting back her own smile as she flicks her eyes over my shoulder to where Heather no doubt is shooting daggers at me.

  “Can we get going? We are on a schedule as you know,” Heather says, her irritation clear.

  “Sorry,” I say like a scolded child who doesn’t care as I swim over to my paddleboard, which Slade has flipped back over for me.

  Of course, I have to figure out how to get onto it without making more of a scene, but Slade beats me to it. He hoists himself onto my board and locks his hand around my wrist to help pull me up.

  On the third try, he finally has me out of the water, and as I finally get my knee up on the board, Slade loses his balance again.

  His yelp is loud and loaded with amusement as he falls in what feels like slow motion. He flops on his back right next to Heather’s board, and in her overreactive attempt not to get hit by the huge splash that is about to hit her, she jerks her body to the right and promptly loses her own balance.

  I stare in shock as she falls face-first into the water.

  Blakely

  “Did you really have to say that?” I ask, my cheeks and my sides aching from smiling and laughing so hard despite his comment to Heather when she resurfaced, sputtering mad.

  He pulls on both ends of the towel wrapped around his neck. “It was all I could think of in the moment.”

  “Tag, you’re it?” I shake my head, reliving how I choked on my next breath after he tossed those words at Heather when she resurfaced.

  “Everyone else thought it was funny. They laughed,” he says unapologetically.

  “Funny or not, you just put the biggest target on my back.”

  “Hate to break it to you, but based on the look she was leveling your way, she already has one there. Now she’s just readjusting her aim.”

  “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

  “No, but something has to push this to a head between the two of you sooner rather than later so”—he bends into a deep bow and flourishes a hand—“glad to be of service.”

  “So, it was on purpose, then?” I ask again because he hasn’t given me an answer one way or another. Instead, he gives me that adorable shrug and casual lift of his hands. “You’re maddening.”

  “I know.” He grins. “And you love it.”

  I stand in the tiny cabin with my hands on my hips and know he’s right—I do. He’s the reason this stupid retreat has pulled so much laughter from me. He’s the reason I’ve forgotten about bears and mosquitos and whatever else lurks beyond those trees and have actually enjoyed myself some.

  “I’ll get you back somehow.”

  “I count on it.”

  “Go take your shower.” I wave my hand at him.

  “Hey, Blakely?”

  I look over my shoulder at him. “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for wearing that suit.” He gives me a wink and doesn’t say another word before jogging down the steps of the cabin with his towel over his shoulder and his clean clothes tucked under his arm.

  I don’t know how long I stare after him, but I’m sure I have a goofy smile on my face that needs to be reined in somehow. But how? Why? Isn’t this what letting go of my past is supposed to feel like? Isn’t this what enjoying the now is supposed to be like?

  Why does him thanking me for wearing a suit make me feel so good when I should have worn it to begin with?

  Before I can think too much about this onslaught of feelings . . . this lust that seems so very real when there is no possible way it can be in this short amount of time, my phone alerts a text.

  I laugh when I look at it, surprised at her restraint in texting instead of calling.

  Kelsie: Dare I ask if you’re regretting that decision to shave yet?

  Me: I shaved before I left.

  Kelsie: I guess the only other question left is, has anyone seen your handiwork?

  I stare at the text, and a part of me wants to toy with her while the other part of me is dying for her to know how everything is going.

  Me: The outdoors doesn’t seem so bad after all.

  Laughing, I toss my phone onto the bed just as the perfect way to get Slade back hits me.

  I need to act fast to make it work.

  The next few minutes are spent with adrenaline coursing through my veins while I bite back the laughter that seems to be flowing freely today.

  Then I wait.

  It’s probably another five minutes before I hear my name being hollered from the communal shower.

  “Are you sure that’s how you want to play, Blakely?” he warns playfully. “No skin off my back.”

  I’m sitting on the steps of the porch with his clothes and towel dangling from my fingertips and the grin to beat all grins on my lips.

  “Did you forget something?” I call out to him as he exits the shower with nothing but his birthday suit on.

  This was supposed to be a trick on him, but I didn’t realize it was going to be one on me too. How am I supposed to watch him close this distance in all his gorgeous splendor? His hair is wet, water drips off his chest, his cock bounces off his thigh with each stride, and a devious desire sparks in his eyes.

  “Didn’t forget a thing,” he says and then whistles as if he walks naked every day across a camp. “Good thing I still had my shower shoes on though.”

  “Good thing.”

  “Or it might have been a prick-ly walk back.”

  “Prick-ly, indeed,” I murmur, not bothering to hide my long, appreciative look at him when he steps into the shade of the cabin. I hold the green beach towel a bit higher. “You seem to be a little wet? Did you need this?”


  “I need a whole hell of a lot of things.” He returns the languorous appraisal before meeting my eyes again. “Turning the tables on you, making you a little wet, might just be one of them.”

  His words burrow under my skin until my body reacts viscerally to them. My nipples pebble. Chills blanket my arms. That slow, sweet ache begins to simmer because the memory of him makes the promise in his words burn that much brighter.

  “Is that so?” I ask.

  He takes a step toward me, his cock growing harder with each passing second. “You know this means war,” he says, grinning wickedly.

  From one beat to another, he’s charging up the stairs. I yelp and run into the cabin. It’s not lost on me that I’m running into a small room with only a bed with a naked, sexy man in hot pursuit. Within seconds, he has his arms around my stomach, his hard length pressing against my ass as he pulls me against him.

  “Someone’s feeling a little feisty today, is she?” he murmurs against the curve of my neck, the scrape of his jaw lighting little fires everywhere across my skin.

  He slides his hands up to cup my breasts and play with my nipples through the thin fabric of my bathing suit, and his mouth sets a course toward devastation just below my ear.

  “If you can’t handle the heat . . .”

  His chuckle rumbles from his chest into my back.

  How can I want him this much already? It isn’t just the incredible sex we had last night—well, it is, but it’s also the way Slade makes me feel. Youthful. Vibrant. Carefree. Nothing like the proper debutant Paul needed for his stuffed-shirt meetings and his I-should-be-serviced-with-a-blow-job-for-closing-this-merger attitude.

  “If you don’t stop, we might be late to the next activity,” I murmur and then moan as his fingers cup my sex.

  “That’s the point.”

  My neck arches, and my head falls back against his shoulder as he slips his fingers beneath the fabric and finds that soft bundle of nerves there. I lift my foot onto the bed to give him more access, to beg him to take what he wants because hell if it isn’t up for the taking.

  Between his kisses, the gentle scrape of his teeth against the slope of my shoulder, his fingers moving masterfully, thoughts of being late for a second time today flicker and fade.

  There’s no way I can concentrate on them when he’s doing this.

  “Slade.” His name falls from my lips as a moan just as he turns me around and slants his mouth over mine. Where last night was us easing into whatever this is, today is him taking what he wants, and a small thrill shoots through me at the same time his teeth tug on my bottom lip.

  The knock on the door startles the shit out of us.

  My first thought is how loud was that moan I just emitted?

  My second is that I want whoever is there to go away.

  Our lips meet again, this time a giggle escaping my lips as my body tremors with the desire coursing through it.

  “I should get it,” I murmur between another kiss.

  “Unless it’s Horrible Heath—”

  “Shhh!” I say as I cover Slade’s mouth before he can finish the nickname. With my luck, it’s her on the other side of the door.

  His tongue licks over the palm of my hand covering his mouth, and I throw my head back and laugh.

  “I’ll be right there!” I yell to the door.

  Another kiss.

  “You should get that,” he says.

  Then another.

  “I should.” I take a very painful step back and laugh at him standing there buck naked. “You should cover that thing up,” I tease and throw the towel at him.

  “To be continued,” he mutters, and I laugh again right before I open the door.

  Slade

  “Gemma!” Blakely says as she slips outside and shuts the door behind her.

  I picture the woman. Shorter with curly hair, a great smile, a little timid, and definitely a tad germophobic. The woman pulls out hand sanitizer every five minutes.

  She also has shit timing.

  They make small talk as my hard-on fades and my thoughts scatter all over the fucking place.

  They are mostly of Blakely.

  Of the color that lives on her cheeks and the smile that has owned her face nonstop since I met her on the trail this morning. Whatever the hell happened at her meeting this morning got to her enough that there were storm clouds in her eyes when she deserves only rainbows.

  Plus, she wore the bathing suit.

  She thought it was about me getting her into it when I’d much rather have her out of it, but it was so much more than that. It was about how when she doubts herself, she becomes flustered and then defensive. Her not wanting to wear it had nothing to do with her damn coworkers and what she deemed were their perfect yoga bodies. It had everything to do with her and how she sees herself.

  Not sure what that douchebag of an ex did to her self-esteem, but fuck him.

  I’m making it my mission to rid her of her insecurities one by one.

  It’s the least she deserves.

  Her laugh sounds off again, and my balls tighten. This woman. She has gotten a hold of me somehow.

  “The reason I really stopped by is kind of embarrassing,” Gemma says and catches my attention.

  “What’s wrong?” Blakely asks.

  “Oh. No. Nothing is wrong,” she says, and when I peek through the blinds, I can see her blushing and shifting her feet. “It’s more . . . I just wanted to say how envious I was of you today. We all thought the whole paddleboard yoga thing was more for Heather to show off how good she is at it instead of bringing us together as a team.”

  “She is good at it,” Blakely says softly as I step into my shorts and pull them up. “But why were you envious of me? I fell off the paddleboard and couldn’t stop laughing.”

  “Exactly,” she says, her smile growing more certain. “You and Slade were laughing and having so much fun while the rest of us were afraid to breathe wrong for fear of getting reprimanded. You just didn’t care.”

  Blakely sighs in that way that says she is treading lightly so as not to offend, but at the same time, says she hears her coworker. Such a perfect boss sound. “Of course, I care, but—”

  “We can all see that she’s out to get you, and yet, you aren’t afraid.” She giggles nervously, as if she can’t believe she just said that. “It’s about damn time.”

  “Oh. I—I wasn’t aware it was so obvious.”

  “We see more than you think we do—or, at least, I do,” she says. “Do you want to walk to our next session together?”

  “Um, yes. Sure. Let me change out of my suit first. I’ll be just a second,” Blakely says.

  A second later, the door opens and shuts and Blakely stares at me as if she’s shocked.

  “Don’t look now, but I do believe another thing is getting crossed off our Blade To-Do list,” I whisper so Gemma won’t overhear.

  “You heard us?” she whispers back as she walks over to her suitcase.

  “I did.”

  Her back is to me as she slides her arms out of the bathing suit straps and begins whatever voodoo it is that women do to get their bras on. “She’s one of the ones I thought was a die-hard Heather cheerleader.”

  “Not anymore, it seems,” I murmur, rather enjoying watching her get dressed. There is an efficiency to it that is equal parts admirable and sexy.

  “All because we were laughing.” She pulls a shirt over her head and it hangs just below her butt. “All because we were having a good time.”

  “You proved you weren’t scared of Heather’s wrath.” She steps out of her suit and slides a rather sexy pair of lacy panties up that mile-long stretch of legs until I can’t see them anymore. “Hope can be contagious.”

  She glances over at me again and laughs. “Hope?”

  “Hope.” I take a step toward her. “When people give it to them, even in such a simple form as laughter, it’s contagious.” She steps into a pair of jeans. “I see it all the time in
the hospital.”

  “I think you’re giving me too much credit here.” She turns as she tucks in her shirt and fastens the waist. “For all I know, I’ll go to this next session and this whole conversation will be moot.”

  “I doubt it.” I take another step toward her. I brush back a lock of her hair that’s fallen loose from her ponytail and tuck it behind her ear. “But if I’m wrong, I’m going to be pissed we were interrupted.” I lean forward and kiss her smile.

  “I’ll make it up to you.”

  “Famous last words,” I say and walk toward the door and open it. “Hey, Gemma. You doing okay? Not too sore after too many Downward Dobermans?” I joke. “What’s Ted up to?”

  Her laugh says it all. “Frustrated that he has to be here. He isn’t exactly a yoga man.”

  “I think it’s apparent that I’m not either.” I grin. “It hasn’t exactly been a blast for the men.”

  “Should I worry that you’re formulating another plan?” Blakely asks as she closes the door behind her.

  “I am.” I wink at Gemma. “I plan on changing the male perspective a little while you ladies do whatever it is you’re doing next. You okay with that?”

  “Do I want to know?” Gemma asks.

  “Nope.” I press a chaste kiss to Blakely’s lips. “But you’ll thank me for it.”

  Blakely

  “Hey man, I hate to ask, but can you check on her for me?” Slade walks from one side of the dock to the other and chuckles softly. “Nah. Same old bullshit. They have to wait for her to wake up. No decision until then.” His shoulders are tense, and he pinches the bridge of his nose in what seems like frustration. “I appreciate it. Yeah, I can hold.”

  Slade doesn’t speak for a few moments as he waits.

  “Christ,” he finally mutters, his shoulders sagging. “Thanks for checking. I know the position I put you in by asking.” He nods. “Sounds good. Later, man.”

  “Shit.” He hisses the word to himself as he takes a seat on the end of the dock.

  Watching him for a few seconds, I debate whether to leave him be or approach him. He seems so lonely that I know I can’t just walk away. Not after he’s been my biggest cheerleader.