I understood why my sister chose that way of life, and I didn’t fault her for it because it worked for her, but I wanted something more.
Ray seemed like that could be him, and it scared me. He was dangerous because he ticked every box and more.
Every morning I spent with him, I felt myself drawing closer and closer to him. I felt like a giddy schoolgirl but also nervous as hell.
Ray hadn’t gotten back to the townhouse until just before I jumped into the shower, so we hadn’t gotten to spend any more time together today.
I was both nervous and excited about tonight as I finished getting ready.
I put my hands on my hips and made a slow turn, watching myself in the bathroom mirror. This shirt was perfect. Vivid blue and draped just right so that it looked entirely modest, even though the neckline scooped low.
However, when I leaned slightly down, it was just the right amount of cleavage—a lot.
Perfect.
Ray had only seen me in my pajamas or work attire, which consisted of raggedy jeans and a bar T-shirt. Hopefully he’d like my dark skinny jeans and high heels even better.
My boobs and butt may not be as tight and perky as they used to be in my twenties, but they still looked great, especially in the right shirt and heels. I was only five foot three, so I needed the heels to give me a boost.
I walked out of my room and down the stairs to the kitchen to feed Jasper before we left. I loved him so much, but if you didn’t feed him on time, he became hangry and would wreak havoc in the house. Best to just feed my little hellion early than face the consequences.
My twenty-pound fluffy king was waiting in the kitchen for me, his agitated face letting me know I was moving slowly and he did not approve.
After scooping his food into his dish and refilling his water, I walked over to the living room to make sure I left the TV on forJasper while we were out. Personally, he fancied The Weather Channel, so that’s what he got.
Steady, rhythmic footfalls sounded from the stairs, and I turned just in time to see Ray turn the corner after the last step. He looked divine. Dark jeans with a black dress shirt—with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his muscular arms.
He took several moments looking me up and down, the intensity in his gaze practically burning a hole through me. I knew he liked what he saw, but the length of time he spent staring started to make me feel a little uncomfortable.
Was it getting hot in here?
Itfelthot in here.
It could be his body heat wafting over to me, but I knew it wasn’t. It was my perimenopausal hormones, which seemed to get an extra charge when he was around.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in heels,” he said with a crooked grin.
“Yeah, well, I’ve reached an age where my mind says,I can do that, but my body says,Not today, old woman. So, I usually just wear sneakers so I don’t trip and fall.”
He smiled at me, clearly appreciating my self-deprecating humor, but then his smile and gaze changed.
He took several steps closer to me and put his hands at my hips, pulling me closer to him. “I like them, so thank you for sacrificing your safety and wearing them for me.”
“I wore them for me, not you,” I told him, even though we both knew I was lying. “It gives me extra height so I can stand tall like the queen I am.”
His smile grew wider before he leaned in and kissed me. There was no tongue. There was no rush. It was gentle, more intimate, but just as delicious as all his others.
He slowly drew back and whispered, his lips still millimeters from mine, “You’re not an old woman, by the way. A beautiful woman, yes, but not old.”
“I’m not bothered by my age, Ray, but I’m also not going to pretend I still look like I’m twenty-five,” I told him. “The great David Bowie once said, ‘Ageing is an extraordinary process whereby you become the person you always should have been.’”
“You’re something else you know that?” He spoke quietly, as if mesmerized by me.
“Yes, and now I’m hungry, so let’s go eat,” I told him, turning around and making my way to grab my jacket and purse.
The restaurant was great.The inside was decorated like a steakhouse in Montana. Pictures of cattle and cowboys adorned the walls, and high-top booths made you feel closed in for added privacy while you sat on comfy fake leather seats. The lighting was dark, helping to set the intimate mood this place was known for.
Very subtle country music played in the background—just loud enough to hear the song, but not loud enough to prevent you from carrying on a conversation at your table.
