FLIRTING WITH 40

by K. Bromberg

  “Not everyone has the kind of confidence you have.”

  “I know.” He nods and links his fingers with mine, creating a solid connection across a turbulent sea, and I’m so grateful he doesn’t try to say more and just lets me have my own insecurities. That he still connects with me regardless. “I have something for you.”

  “For me?”

  “Mm-hmm.” He tugs on my hand to follow him. I do so in silence as I try to figure out what it is I need to say. How I explain to him that sitting on a canoe in the middle of the lake, I decided that he’s right and that my toes are back in the sand again.

  “What is it?”

  “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.” He laughs and squeezes my hand. “But you need to close your eyes from here on out.”

  “Why?”

  He looks at me like an impatient father would, and I smile in return. “I won’t let you run into anything, but you have to promise to keep them closed.”

  I give him a defiant sigh to play along but close my eyes as he leads us through the forest. We walk over some uneven ground then up some stairs, and I assume we are at the cabin.

  “Stand right there. Don’t move,” he says before letting go of my hand. I listen intently to his footfalls landing on the raised wooden floor of the cabin.

  “Slade?”

  “Patience,” he scolds playfully. There is some more shuffling and then an odd creaking sound that has me angling my head. I jolt when his hands frame my hips and even more so when his lips find my ear. “Do you trust me, Blakely?”

  The chuckle that falls from my lips tells him not exactly, but I nod.

  “Open them.”

  When I do, the startled laugh that falls from my lips is simply a ruse to pretend that my heart didn’t just tumble out of my chest and fall at his feet. “What is this?” I ask but can already see it plain as day.

  Slade has jerry-rigged some kind of swing on the front porch of the cabin. It’s two ropes attached to both ends of a large wooden slat. And on top of that, Slade is standing next to it, holding a red Solo cup out to me, and a bottle of wine rests on the window ledge beside him.

  “Slade.” I smile and shake my head slowly. I’m completely astonished by his thoughtfulness. “I’m speechless.”

  “And I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t need to be,” I say, and without thought, I step into him, run my hand over the scruff on his jaw, and brush the softest of kisses against his lips. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  He holds the wine out to me while he takes a seat on one end of the wood plank. “Join me?”

  “Will it hold both of us?” I ask.

  “It’s about two feet off the ground, so even if we fall, I promise you won’t get hurt.”

  He made me a swing. He brought me wine. He tried to give me the one thing I told him was the only way I enjoyed the outdoors.

  Funny enough, I’ve been enjoying it this whole time, simply because he is with me.

  I take the hand he offers and hesitantly sit on the slat of wood, testing my weight bit by bit. There is a moment when I expect the roof to rip off or for the rope to snap, sending us both crashing to the ground.

  “See?” he says, his grin widening.

  “It’s perfect,” I murmur, still in a giddy daze over this silly swing that he went out of his way to try to make me happy.

  We sit in silence for a few moments, the sounds of birds chirping and laughter from someone somewhere in the camp filtering through the trees. I have wine in my hand, a swing beneath me, a breeze on my face, and him beside me.

  I don’t care what happens with Heather because this—right here, right now—is all worth it.

  “We all have fears, you know?” Slade says somberly.

  “What is it, Slade?” I ask, linking my fingers with his.

  “I talk a good game about you sucking it up and confronting Heather, but it’s only fair to admit that we all have our own fears when it comes to our jobs. We all have our own insecurities when it comes to our actions. It was bullshit of me to call you out about yours when I haven’t given you enough of me to do the same.”

  For the first time since meeting Slade, I see doubt or discord or something I can’t quite read in his eyes. It’s a vulnerability that is as attractive as it is surprising.

  “You’ve given me more than enough.” I smile, but thoughts of the phone call I interrupted the other day ghost through my mind, and I’m left wondering what exactly it is that Slade has to fear. Prisha mentioned he had been suspended, but she said it so nonchalantly, that I assumed it wasn’t anything major. Maybe it was. Maybe there is so much more going on beneath the surface with Slade but he hides it under the guise of being so happy go lucky. How is that I’ve been so self-centered that I never even thought to ask him more about it? “Prisha told me you had been suspended.” I’m not sure what I expect in reaction, but him nodding ever so slightly is not it. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  He looks out at the lake in the distance, blows out a heavy sigh, and runs his fingers through his hair. “Her name is Ivy,” he says, voice low and full of regret. “I was just coming off an emergency surgery I was called in for. Routine shit but urgent nonetheless. The ER was slammed that night—full moon or some shit—when she came in. I was walking through when an attending called out for help, saying he needed cardio STAT because they’d had to revive her in the ambulance on the way in.” He pauses, and there is so much pain in his face that my stomach clenches over whatever it is he’s going to say next. “She had been destroyed, Blakely.” His voice breaks, and every part of me wants to reach out and hold him.

  “I’m so sorry.” It’s stupid and does nothing to fix it, but it’s all I can think to say.

  “She was this little girl who had been beaten within an inch of her life, and I froze. All the years of training I went through flew out the window.”

  “You’re human.”

  He emits a snort. “Yeah, well, when her dad came barreling in with his crisp dress shirt and expensive watch like some elite asshole, he claimed she fell down the stairs and demanded that I do my job and save his little girl. Shit, I took one look at the blood and bruises on his knuckles, and I knew. I knew he was the one who’d hurt her, and if I hadn’t, her sudden cry when she saw him and the way she gripped my hand would have told me. And that gasp? God, Blakely, it will forever be etched in my mind. Total fear and helplessness and—shit. Just fucking brutal. But not more brutal than what he did to her.”

  “I don’t even know what to say.”

  “Let’s just say he didn’t want her to say anything.” He gives a laugh but it’s self-deprecating at best. “I refused to leave her alone with that fucker. I told him he couldn’t be in with her while I worked on her. And I swear when he leaned over to whisper something in her ear, he threatened her. Her eyes grew so huge and her chin quivered as she held back tears. I shoved him out of the room. I was busy fighting him to keep him away from his own daughter when she slipped into a coma.” His voice is barely audible. “There I was, reacting to him and betraying the one principle I’m supposed to live by, do no harm.”

  “I don’t understand. You were trying to make her safe.”

  “I was her doctor, and instead of checking her for a brain bleed like I should have been doing, I was busy provoking him.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for a natural reaction.”

  “But that’s my job, Blakely. That’s the oath I took. I reacted to the outside when all I should have been focused on was the inside. I let my emotions get the better of me when I should have been one hundred percent focused on Ivy. I lost minutes to him, minutes that could have meant assessing her injuries and saving her from further damage.”

  I scoot closer to him and lean my head on his shoulder. “No one would blame you for your reaction, but I understand why you feel how you do.” I press a kiss to his shoulder and then rest my chin there as I stare at his profile. The strong
nose and thick lashes. The proud chin and stubble he’s let grow during our time here. My heart swells. “So that’s why you were suspended? Because you were dealing with him and not treating her? I don’t understand.”

  “Let’s just say I didn’t exactly trust the fucker. After we got her stable and moved her to the ICU, I made my case to the cops that he may look like the doting single dad who never left her bedside, but I was and still am certain he was the one who hurt her. I wanted him nowhere near her.”

  “Understandably.”

  “Where my story fell short was that her injuries could have been caused by a fall down the stairs. But I saw the blood on his knuckles he’d washed off. I saw the terror in her eyes before she fell unconscious. It didn’t matter how insistent I was because he had already convinced the police that he was some pillar of the fucking community who’d never hurt a soul. It’s my word against his until Ivy wakes up and can give her account.”

  “I’m at a loss for words.” I squeeze his hand tighter, hating this story, hating that he’s reliving it just so I can hear it, but asking him to stop isn’t something I can do. He’s bleeding, so I won’t let him bleed alone.

  “Yeah, well, where they saw a doting father who sat by her bedside day in and day out, I saw a man willing to protect his reputation and life by any and all means. He’d hurt her that badly, who said he wasn’t going to take it a step further? So I prohibited him from being in the ICU. I moved her to a different room when he got my superior involved. I then convinced a guard she was in danger and had him stand in her room whenever he was present. That is what got me suspended. He complained to someone he knows on the hospital board, and I was suspended from my residency program as well as blocked from her case pending review.”

  “And Ivy?”

  “She’s been in a coma since. Her other injuries have healed, but her brain, her cognitive function, is what we are waiting on. She needs to wake up. She needs to . . .” He lifts his free hand in defeat. “Can I tell you how much I hate saying I need her to wake up? It sounds fucking selfish. Her waking up and telling the truth will clear me from wrongdoing and put that fucker in jail. I’d get my job back, my life back. But that isn’t what I mean when I say it. I just want her to wake up because she deserves a chance at knowing what life is like without a hand being raised to her.”

  He’s amazing. The thought runs through my head over and over, but I don’t voice it because I know he’d just refute it. He only sees a little girl he didn’t help when he wouldn’t have been able to prevent the situation in the first place.

  “Is that who you were talking about on the phone yesterday?”

  He nods but keeps his eyes straight ahead. “I was having John check on her status for me.”

  I slide my arm around him, and he slips his around me so I can snuggle in beside him and offer comfort. “No change?”

  “No change.”

  “So, it’s a waiting game then?”

  “Pretty much. The reason I couldn’t drive up here with you was because I had a meeting with the heads of the residency program. They were asking questions and reviewing my actions to discuss my suspension, but in the end, they want to hear from Ivy. If she says her dad abused her, then I look like a hero trying to protect her. If I’m wrong, then we shall see.”

  “And if you aren’t reinstated in the program?” I ask.

  “Then at least I was booted for a worthy cause.”

  The fact that he cares more about a little girl than his own career says so much more about the man he is than anything.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  He turns and looks at me finally. “Thank you for listening.”

  “Of course. Any time. Is there—”

  Slade leans forward and kisses me—and not just a brush on the lips, either. It’s the kind of kiss that makes my toes curl and insides furl and an ache splinter through every part of me.

  But there is no urgency in the kiss, there is no endgame in his motions. There are just his hands framing my face and his tongue meeting mine in an intimate dance that takes hold of my emotions as much as it does my body.

  It’s a kiss purely to kiss, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve done this.

  Just kiss.

  Just connect.

  Just be in this space with a man who worships my mouth with an inexplicable reverence as if he’s getting as much out of this as I am.

  I love the feel of my fingers threading through his hair at the back of his neck. I memorize the soft sigh he makes when he deepens the kiss. I revel in the taste of his kiss on my tongue.

  I push away the thoughts of how perfect this feels, how afraid I am of how much I like him, and simply allow myself to be pulled under the haze of Slade’s kiss.

  Every single second of it. The tug on my lower lip. The gentle pressure of his fingertips guiding my head. The adeptness of his lips.

  When it ends, when his forehead is resting on mine and our hands are still on each other, right when I’m about to speak, the rope of the swing snaps, and we fall with a yelp and a thud.

  Laughter.

  It’s all I hear. We laugh so hard that we’re both on our backs with our hands on our stomachs and wine spilled on us. We laugh till our sides hurt and tears run down the corners of my eyes to my ears and then to the ground beneath.

  “Oh my god. That was awesome,” he says, the words coming out in huffs of laughter.

  “‘Trust me,’ he said. ‘It won’t break,’ he said.” I can barely get the words out before we start giggling again.

  And when he links his fingers with mine as we lie on the cabin porch with a broken swing under us and sticky wine coating us, I know for a fact this will be my most favorite moment of this trip.

  Slade

  “Who thought it was a good idea to make a group of women have a fishing contest?” Blakely asks as we gather the tackle boxes and poles the staff left out for us.

  “Do you have something against fishing like you do against the outdoors?” I ask. “Because I could always make you a swing if it would make you feel better.” She turns and looks at me, her eyes alive. “There’s that smile again.”

  That damn swing was still my best epic fail ever.

  “Gemma said Heather is dead serious about it too.”

  “She sounded that way during her instructions.” Two hours. Designated fishing spots for each team. The guys can bait hooks if need be, but they aren’t allowed to participate other than that. Biggest fish wins a one-on-one coaching session with none other than Heather herself. “So you want to fill me in on why you’ve spent this whole retreat trying to get as far away from Heather as possible and now, all of a sudden, you’re telling me you have to win this contest? What am I missing here?”

  “I can’t hide forever from her, and frankly, it’s about time she learned we’re equals.”

  Well, hello there, Blakely. I do believe you’ve finally decided to come out and play.

  “Don’t look now, but I do believe you’re preparing to howl at the moon, Blakely.” I wink. “Good thing I have the inside scoop on just how to make this happen.”

  “Come again?” she asks.

  “I’ll tell you once we get to our spot.”

  Blakely doesn’t know it, but she was just maneuvered into losing this competition, and I already have a plan for how to fix it.

  “What do you mean you have the inside scoop?” Her eyes narrow.

  “C’mon, control freak.” I smack a loud kiss on her lips. “It’s a good fifteen minutes to get to the spot. We need all the time we can get. Let’s start walking.”

  “I have the drinks,” she says and holds up the cooler.

  “You know there are worms in there too, right?”

  She sputters over a cough, and I die laughing. Definitely not a country girl . . . but I love that she’s trying.

  “You’re serious?”

  “I’m serious,” I say with a nod. “And you’re going to bait the hook
with them yourself.”

  “Oh Jesus.”

  I pull her into my side and press a kiss to the side of her head. “It isn’t a big deal. Then again, I’m not sure if it’ll be worth it.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’ll tell you when you get there.”

  We trek to our designated spot on the far side of the lake. The one Heather assigned to Blakely. Not only is it the farthest possible location from the lodge but also there are no fish there.

  I’ve asked.

  On my morning runs, I’ve befriended some of the local fishermen . . . and I have a plan.

  “We’re almost there,” I murmur as I look at the map, mind still processing what a bitch Heather is for teasing Blakely about her fear of bears. Blakely also told me how Heather admitted to trying to make her so miserable she would quit.

  I have to say that I love that there’s a lot more fire and defiance in Blakely’s resolve than before. Even better, she’s working on a plan to put Heather promptly in her place.

  I hate that she won’t tell me.

  I love that she wants to do this on her own.

  “Hey, Slade?”

  “Yeah?”

  She isn’t beside me anymore, and when I look back, I find her standing a few feet off the beaten path. Her lips are parted, and her eyes keep darting down to my dick and then back up to my eyes. “You’re going to want to follow me.”

  “I am, am I?” I take a step toward her, my dick already twitching to life. “I thought we were supposed to be fishing.” Another step. “Baiting the hook.” Damn it to hell, she’s sexy. “Competing for first place.”

  “We’ll get to that soon enough.” She runs her tongue over her lower lip before sinking her teeth into it, her eyes letting me know exactly what’s on her mind.

  Oh, I’m following, all right.

  I step into the small clearing as a seductive smile tugs on those full lips of hers. “Drop the tackle box, Slade.”

  Our eyes hold for the briefest of seconds as I stare at the woman who has fucking rocked my world.

  Then I drop the tackle box.