Page 23 of The Rules of Dating a Younger Man

Wells took a seat on the stool we used during treatments and spun around. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. What do you mean?”

“You’ve never once considered injections. You’re one of the few women I know who actually likes her appearance as is and has natural confidence. So there’s something going on if you’re suddenly considering joining the frozen-face fan club, like me.” He pointed to a cabinet and started taking off his shirt. “We have a half hour before either of us has a patient. Can you do a touch up under my pits? I’m starting to sweat again.”

Unlike me, Wells used every service we had, including injections for hyperhidrosis—excessive underarm sweating.

I shook my head, yet reached for a vial of Botox and gloves. “You know sweating is natural.”

“You say natural like it’s some prize. You know what’s natural? A banana. You know what happens when it sits around too long? It rots and shrivels up. You know what doesn’t shrivel? Plastic. It sticks around for a thousand years. I want to be plastic.”

I chuckled. “Lift your arm, crazy man.”

Wells and I caught up while I injected poison into his underarms. He told me about a horrible date he’d had this weekend, and I told him about my time at Ryan’s House.

“Are there a lot of hot, sweaty construction workers at this place? Maybe I should come with you next time.”

My mind went to one man I knew I’d like to see sweaty. “Can I ask you something and you won’t interrogate me about why I’m asking?”

“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…”

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