Midlife Crisis: another romance for the over 40: (Silver Fox Former Rock Star) by L.B. Dunbar

Author:L.B. Dunbar [Dunbar, L.B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: L.B. Dunbar Writes Ltd.
Published: 2018-05-19T16:00:00+00:00

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I’m pushing my luck with margarita number four but being out with other women has been a treat. I didn’t socialize with the girls at work often, always feeling a little bit too old for them. Besides, I had a husband and kids at home when some of them didn’t. When it was only me and the boys, the pressure to get home as quickly as I could each night didn’t afford me the opportunity to mingle with colleagues. Having new friends is refreshing, as are limes and tequila.

An hour later, the result equals slow recognition of being propped over my toilet with a thick hand on my back as my body convulses, expelling four said margaritas. My hair is pulled back to the nape of my neck as my stomach roils, and I throw up again.

“It’s okay, baby.” A smoky voice does nothing to calm me, and I realize I’m crying as well as vomiting. “Get it out.”

Hank’s soothing tone makes me whimper. I don’t remember him arriving at the bar, and more importantly, what is he doing here?

“Sweet cheese, leave me to die.”

“You’re not dying, lady.” He chuckles, smoothing his hand down my back. I have a strange sense of still wearing his too large shirt and my underwear. Nothing else. Lord, what have I done? Another bout of nausea rocks me, and I gag over the bowl, spitting in hopes something will happen. Hank’s lying; I’m dying.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, embarrassed I can’t party like a rock star or like I’m still twenty-three. “Oh God, Hank, I’m so sorry,” I say, remembering he’s a recovering alcoholic, and I’m drunk. Tears still wash down my face, and I lower my head to the seat.

Hank folds his body to the floor, propping his back against the cabinet. He gently tugs me so I curl between his legs and lay against his chest. A heavy hand plays with my hair, combing it back from my face and brushing it down my back.

“I’m sorry,” I weakly repeat. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Lady, this ain’t nothing compared to what I’ve seen or done. Just relax. We’ll stay right here as long as you need.” My eyes close at his gentle touch, but that makes the world spin.

“What time is it?” I note the darkness, but my eyes drag closed again.

“After midnight.”

“Cripes, the boys—”

“Know their mom isn’t feeling well, and I’m staying to take care of her.” I sniffle, a choking sob exhaling with a heavy breath.

“You’re kind of good to me.” Tears begin to flow again with the thought.

“Want to be better than good,” he mutters, his chest vibrating as he speaks. His heart beats a steady rhythm under my ear, and my lids grow heavy.

“You could be somebody’s someone,” I whisper, growing comfortable on his chest. He says something, but I don’t hear him.

When I wake next, I’m in bed with my robe wrapped around me, wearing a tank top and my underwear. I’m on top of my duvet with three pillows under my head.

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