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Why couldn’t he have been born ten years earlier and already had all the kids he wanted?
Face it, Holly. No matter how you slice it, this wasn’t meant to be.
She disentangled herself from his muscular limbs and padded out to the kitchen for a glass of water. If only he weren’t so sexy, so handsome. But his looks and charisma weren’t what had her so shaken. It was him. Jack. Sure, he had a gorgeous face, an amazing body—but that was superficial. What she loved about him was his kindness, his persistence, his nurturing personality.
Holly’s glass clattered to the bottom of the stainless steel sink. Luckily it didn’t break, and she hoped the noise didn’t wake Jack.
Shit. Had she just thought the word "loved
" about Jack?
God, Holly, you so can’t go there.
Heart-stopping sex does not equal love.
Hands shaking, she retrieved her glass, filled it with cold water, and gulped it down, then splashed the still-running water on her face. She reached for her dishtowel and rubbed the wetness from her skin.
She’d spent two nights with the man. Had two dates with him, if you counted the coffee date yesterday morning. She couldn’t possibly be in love.
Her pulse raced. She was more than a little freaked out. He was too young for her, that was for sure, and there were definitely other reasons he wouldn’t want her. Damn—how could she love him? What a perfect setup for heartbreak and that she did not need.
With a huff, she strode to the extra bedroom that housed her computer. She sat down and typed "older woman/younger man" into the search engine bar.
Over a million hits!
Apparently she wasn’t the only woman who had the hots for a younger man.
Curiosity got the better of her, and she began clicking. Lots of information surfaced and she skimmed it, but when she stumbled into a chatroom called "The Cougar Club" she had to take a closer look. Maybe these ladies would understand her dilemma. Surely one of them might have a similar issue.
She created an account under the name HollyGolightly—not original but she couldn’t think of anything else at midnight—and logged in. Music jingled, indicating a post.
Cublover: Hi Holly!
GoodtimeCharlene: Evening, Holly.
MrsRobinson: Hey there, Holly! Welcome!
Should she lurk? Only these three were in the chatroom besides her. She’d be very conspicuous if she lurked.
She’d log out. This had been a mistake. She was no cougar. Jack wasn’t a cub. It wasn’t going to work out anyway, due to circumstances way more important than their respective ages. Her mouse was poised over the logout link when the jingle sounded again.
Cublover: Welcome to the Cougar Club. Is there anything we can help you with tonight, Holly?
Just click, Holly, just click.
As seconds passed, she knew she wouldn’t leave the chatroom, but she didn’t chat, either.
MrsRobinson: Or just feel free to lurk if you’re more comfortable with that. Charlene was just telling us about breaking up with her latest.
GoodtimeCharlene: Yeah, it didn’t work out this time. My first foray into cougardom. But I enjoyed his stamina.
Should she? Why not?
HollyGolightly: If you don’t mind my asking, why didn’t it work out?
GoodtimeCharlene: Not at all. He’s only thirty-five, and he wasn’t ready to give up the dream of a white picket fence and a houseful of rugrats.
Holly’s heart sank. Jack was six years younger than Charlene’s "cub."
