Page 3 of The Rules of Dating a Younger Man

After a much-too-long analysis, I realized I probably looked like a creeper staring at her mouth and diverted my eyes to the menu the bartender had dropped off. Though I still couldn’t stop myself from stealing glances in between reading about the appetizers. There was something compelling about her. It might’ve been that her face wasn’t painted to fake-perfection like most women these days.

A few minutes later, I looked over and noticed her glass was empty. So I took a chance. “Can I buy us another round?”

She bit her bottom lip. “Ummm...”

I held my hands up. “It’s just a drink. I won’t invite myself over to the empty seat next to you.”

She smiled. “Sure. Why not? Thank you.”

I held two fingers up to the bartender. “Another round for both of us. On me, please. And when you get a chance, I’ll take an order of the Mexican street corn chicken tacos.”

“Oh, gosh,” the woman said. “I love Mexican street corn. That sounds delicious.”

“Oh, so now you want me to buy you drinks and dinner?”

She waved her hands. “Oh, no, I wasn’t suggesting—”

I smiled. “I’m teasing.” I looked back at the bartender. “Make that two orders of the tacos, please.”

“You got it.”

“Well, now that you’re buying me food and a drink, I feel obligated to offer you the vacant seat next to me.”

“Oh, no. There’s no obligation, really.”

She grinned. “I’m teasing, too.”

I laughed, but I also got up and walked over to her. “Is this seat taken?”

“It’s not. But I can’t promise no bare butts have been on it.”

“I’ll risk it.” I sat and held out my hand. “Brayden.”

“Alexandria. Nice to meet you, Brayden.”

“You, too. Are you a guest at this hotel, or just came in to flirt with a guy and get him to buy you dinner and drinks?”

She smiled. I liked that she could take a joke. “I’m staying here. You?”

“Same. What are you in town for?”

“I’m volunteering for a charity that renovates houses near hospitals for patients who can’t afford a hotel while they’re getting cancer treatment.”

My jaw fell open. “Are you serious? You’re volunteering for Ryan’s House?”

“You know it?”

“I’m the founder. But once a year, I also volunteer to swing a hammer. This is my once.”

“Really?”

“Let me get this straight. We drink the same drink, both love street-corn tacos, both dislike ass imprints on our car seats, and we’re volunteering for the same project? Do I just propose now? Or should I wait and see if you love candy corn as much as I do?”

Her eyes sparkled. “I love candy corn.”

I covered my heart with my hand. “Alexandria Foster. It even has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

The bartender interrupted our love fest to deliver our drinks. When he walked away, we were both still smiling.

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