Series: The Laws of Opposite Attract Series by Vi Keeland
Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“Sure, honey, let’s pretend that’s possible.”
“Am I too old to go out with a thirty-one-year-old?”
“Absolutely not. I went out with a twenty-four-year-old last weekend.”
“You did?”
Wells nodded. “His name was Cash. He had washboard abs and told me his life goal was to meet Scott Disick.”
“Who?”
“Oh Jesus. You might be too old to date someone in their fifties, Grandma.”
“Great.”
“Seriously, though, who’s the guy? Because I don’t like him already if he’s making you feel this insecure.”
I sighed. “It’s not Brayden making me feel this way. That’s all on me.”
“Brayden, huh? Cute name. Tell me more.”
I finished the last injection and dropped the needle into the red box hanging on the wall. “He’s the guy who founded the charity I’m working at.”
Wells wiggled his brows. “I like givers.”
I laughed. “He’s a super nice guy. Not to mention, he’s gorgeous, and we seem to have a lot in common.”
“So the only problem is that he’s younger than you?”
“He’s a lot younger than me.”
“You said thirty-one. That’s not even a decade.”
“I know. But he’s almost the same age as Caitlin. And he’s never been married and will want a family someday. So it’s more than an age difference. It’s where we are in life.”
Wells sat up and tugged his shirt back on. “I thought you said you weren’t even sure if you would ever want to get married again. Since when are you shopping for another husband?”
“I’m not, but…”
“But what? You do know you can just have a good time with someone, right? You don’t need to map out a ten-year plan.”
“I know.”
“Why does an age gap bother you now, anyway? You weren’t concerned that Richard was seventeen years older than you.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“Because…I…”
Wells grinned. “Good answer.”
“Shut up.”
He smiled. “Seriously, Alex, thirty-one is not too young for you. Especially if the guy has his shit together and runs a charity. Even if you think he doesn’t have long-term potential because he wants to have kids and you don’t, there’s no reason you can’t enjoy him short term. Where does this guy live?”
“Manhattan.”
“How long does this renovation project you’re doing take?”
“About three months.”
“Then you have an expiration date anyway.” He shrugged. “Sounds like a fling made in heaven, if you ask me.”
“I guess…”
“Stop overthinking it and just have fun for a change.”
“You say that like it’s simple.”
Wells stood and kissed my forehead. “It is, pumpkin. Just raise your arms and enjoy the roller coaster of life.”
A little while later, I finished my first appointment and went to catch up on some paperwork and mail in my office. When I was done, I somehow wound up on the Ryan’s House website. I clicked around for a bit, looking at photos from all the projects they’d done, and then went to the About Us tab. A photo of five young guys standing with their arms around each other’s shoulders popped up. I recognized Brayden first, before realizing I’d met most of the other guys, too. They were his friends Holden, Colby, and Owen. I assumed the one who didn’t look familiar was Ryan. They were probably only late teens or early twenties, all of them different from each other, yet each very handsome. I imagined that crew of five had made a lot of heads turn when they went out together. Underneath was a story about Ryan, and then a bio of each of the guys, who were apparently all on the Ryan’s House Board of Directors. I read through everything once, but went back for a second read of Brayden’s bio.
Brayden Foster is the founder and chief executive officer of Ryan’s House. He holds both a Bachelor’s and Master’s degree in mechanical engineering from the University of Pennsylvania. At just twenty-three, he received his first patent for a revolutionary artificial limb joint, which is currently licensed to the world’s biggest prosthetic companies. Brayden founded Ryan’s House to honor his childhood best friend, Ryan Ellison, who passed away from leukemia. Brayden’s passions include developing artificial limbs that look like action heroes’, skiing, kick boxing, traveling, ant farming, and knitting.
I chuckled to myself at those last two hobbies. Ant farming was odd, but it didn’t give me the visual the other did—Brayden sitting on a rocker with a giant ball of yarn and knitting needles. Maybe he wasn’t too young for me after all. Underneath was a giant red donate button. My eyes shifted to the check sitting to the right of my keyboard—my husband’s old partners sent him a small percentage of the practice’s profits each quarter. The payments were part of their partnership agreement and would continue for ten full years after his death. I’d been mailing them to Caitlin whenever they came in, but last quarter she’d told me not to send them anymore. Instead, she wanted me to donate the money since she was doing well enough on her own. My eyes shifted back to the donate button on the screen. The foundation did support cancer patients, and I was certain Ryan’s House was a charity my husband would have really liked. So I figured why not? and typed in the exact amount of the check. The screen then prompted me to enter information for a tax receipt, including name, telephone number, and email. I did so, and after another ten minutes, I finally forced myself away from the photo of Brayden and shut my laptop. As I did, my phone buzzed with an incoming text, though it wasn’t from a number I knew. I swiped to open the message: