Page 71 of The Rules of Dating a Younger Man

Wells walked around the desk, pulled open the drawer where I kept my purse, and lifted it onto his shoulder. “Let’s go, Kitten. I’m taking you for therapy.”

“You made me an appointment with Dr. Mills?” I’d met with a psychologist a few times after Richard died. But I hadn’t seen him since.

Wells extended a hand and yanked me to my feet. “Retail therapy, sweetheart. I asked Hallie to stay and close up tonight.”

I wasn’t much in the mood for shopping—wasn’t in the mood for anything, really—but I knew better than to argue with Wells when it came to two things: shopping and taking care of me. So I nodded. “Thanks.”

Our first stop was Nordstrom. We perused the expensive shoes in the ladies’ department. I picked up a pair of sparkly silver Jimmy Choos. “These would look really cute with that black dress Caitlin has with the silver belt, wouldn’t they?”

Wells plucked them from my hand and steered me to a pair of ridiculously high leopard-print Louboutins. “Now these are hot. You need fuck-me shoes. They pair great with a Brazilian, preferably the kind with a landing strip. Nothing else.”

I smiled. “I don’t know if they have them in your size.”

Wells linked his arm with mine and started us walking. “Is down there still groomed to the nines?”

“Do you really need to know the current status of my pubic hair?”

“I do. Just humor me and answer.”

I sighed. “I have a Brazilian right now.”

“When did you get waxed?”

“I don’t know. The week before my birthday, I think?”

“So that’s what? Three weeks now?”

I shrugged. “I guess…”

“When was the last time you got waxed before that?”

“Is this conversation really necessary?”

“It is. Answer the question. I promise not to judge. When I went off that ridiculous six-month man cleanse I did a few years back, I had to use a sickle to cut down the bush before I jumped back into the dating pool.”

I frowned, but answered truthfully. “I hadn’t gotten waxed in a few years, not since Richard died. I’d shaved, but not gotten a Brazilian.”

“That’s what I thought. When you first get back into waxing, the hair grows in fast, so you must be starting to get stubbly.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know too much about the intricacies of ladies’ grooming. But if you must know, I have an appointment on Wednesday to get touched up.”

“And when did you make that appointment?”

“This morning when I got to work, why?”

Wells’s eyes sparkled. “Ah-ha! I knew it.”

“What do you know?”

“You might have closed the door, but you haven’t locked it and thrown away the key yet.”

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

“If there wasn’t a chance someone might see that hoochie, you would not have made a touch-up appointment. Ergo, while your head is not planning on banging the boy-toy, your hoochie has other plans.”

Wells directed us to the perfume counter. “Hello. We’re looking for a scent that will drive a young man wild,” he said. “What do you have that smells like sex?”

The woman smiled. “You want a sex-on-the-beach type scent?”

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