MANifesting: Older Man, Younger Woman Short Romance

  MANifesting

  Older Man, Younger Woman Short Romance

  By Haley Travis

  Copyright 2020 Haley Travis. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted or duplicated in any form whatsoever without express written permission of the author. This book is intended for sale to adults only. This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual people or specific locations or details is completely coincidental, or intended fictitiously. All characters are over 18, no sex partners are related, all sex is consensual. This is fantasy. In the real world, everyone practices safe sex at all times. Right? Right.

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  ***

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One ~ Allie

  Chapter Two ~ Kellan

  Chapter Three ~ Allie

  Chapter Four ~ Kellan

  Chapter Five ~ Allie

  Chapter Six ~ Kellan

  Chapter Seven ~ Allie

  Chapter Eight ~ Kellan

  Chapter Nine ~ Allie

  Chapter Ten ~ Kellan

  Chapter Eleven ~ Allie

  Chapter Twelve ~ Kellan

  Chapter Thirteen ~ Allie

  Chapter Fourteen ~ Kellan

  Epilogue One ~ Allie

  Epilogue Two ~ Kellan

  Other Stories and About the Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  * Allie *

  So many things in this world were pure perfection. Like the first sip of coffee before setting the giant mug back down on the wooden table at the back of my local coffee shop. Or the soft piano jazz that played through the quiet space, as half a dozen people near the front tapped away on their laptops. The moment before starting a new project was something that always gave me a rush of pure joy.

  Smiling to myself, I wiped off the table with my sleeve. Reaching into my giant shoulder bag, I pulled out a brand new notebook and pen, slipping the paper ribbon off the middle before opening the pages.

  At every new phase of my life, I started a fresh journal and took notes to clarify my intent. It was essential for me to be deliberate and precise when deciding what I wanted out of life, even when it was something that terrified me to pieces. No, that was the wrong word. We shouldn’t think, ‘terrified.’ Perhaps, ‘excited.’

  Before I could think about starting this exciting new phase, the bell dinged softly over the front door. Christine walked in and gave me a wave, bought her coffee, then came to the back table to sit beside me.

  “You and your journals,” she laughed. “What are you plotting this week?”

  “It’s not plotting,” I laughed. “It’s manifesting.”

  “Whatever,” she shrugged, stirring her coffee that I knew probably contained two massive teaspoons of sugar. No wonder Christine was always a bit hyper.

  “Writing things down so that they’ll happen just the way you want them to, I get it,” she smiled, smoothing back her long, dark hair. “What’s the latest game plan?”

  Although we usually shared absolutely everything about our lives, I was reluctant to be as open with this one for half a second. But considering that Christine had a lot more experience, I could probably use her help.

  “I think it’s time that I went on a few dates and found a boyfriend,” I said slowly.

  She nodded, pursing her pink lips that were accented with a light gloss. “I could see that. You already have the killer apartment, the incredible job, and,” she waved her hand up and down toward me, “the incredible makeover.”

  I couldn’t stop my instant grin. I’d finally been brave enough to chop off my waist-length hair to just a few inches below my shoulders, which released a ton of natural curl. That, plus a lesson in figuring out how to make my eyes pop without looking like I was wearing too much makeup, had made me feel like a whole new woman.

  I’d also been slowly converting my wardrobe from utilitarian university pieces to feminine professional outfits that flattered my frame. For the first time ever, I actually felt girlish.

  “Honestly, you look amazing. So you’re ready for a man,” Christine giggled. “You dated a bit in university, didn’t you? I think I remember that.”

  “Well, kind of,” I admitted. “I went to a movie and drinks with a guy once, and that didn’t pan out. Then I went to dinner with another guy, and coffee with a third, but nothing really clicked.”

  “So, you’ve never had a boyfriend?” Her eyebrow raised. We were so opposite there. I’ve only known Christine for three years, but she’s never been without a boyfriend for more than a week or two.

  “Exactly. So if I’d like to be married and start having kids by twenty-six or so, I need to figure out precisely what I’m looking for in a guy and learn how to date.”

  “You and your timelines.” Christine sipped her coffee, then set it down while shaking her head, making a chiding clicking noise with her tongue. “There’s nothing precise about love, Allie. You’re going to fall for whomever you fall for. All you can do is hope that it’s a nice guy.”

  I tried to stop myself from frowning. “That’s the thing. I don’t just want a nice guy, I want somebody who is…”

  “I know. The perfect guy,” Christine smiled, holding up her hands.

  “Not necessarily perfect.” She was always on my case for being too fussy, and I did love her for keeping me in check sometimes.

  “I just don’t want to waste my time with a guy I know isn’t right from the start,” I tried to explain. “There are certain basic things I want. Shouldn’t I start there?”

  “That depends how reasonable you are,” she said. “Quick, pull out your notebook, and let’s make a list.”

  I dug in my purse for my everyday notebook and flipped to a new page.

  “All right, so you’re looking for a boyfriend, not a fling?” Christine asked.

  “Yes,” I said emphatically, jotting down, ‘real boyfriend material, with husband potential.’ “Even if it only lasts for a handful of dates, we should have a good chance from the very start.”

  Christine nodded, looking around the café at the other customers. “Are you looking for someone your own age?”

  “A little older, I think. Twenty-two-year old guys don’t seem to have a clue.”

  “Older guys really are sexier,” she nodded.

  “It’s not that, it’s just… I guess I want a guy who’s sort of settled. Not out partying and acting crazy. You know what I mean?”

  She nodded, her black fingernails clicking against the side of her white mug. “So how old is that?”

  “Hmm.” My pen tapped against the page for a moment. “I guess early to mid-thirties? You know, someone who has a career, not just a throwaway job.”

  “That makes sense,” Christine said. She tended to date all sorts of different guys, from artists and hipsters our age to older stockbrokers.

  “What do you want him to look like?” she asked.

  I stared into space for a minute. “I don’t know. I mean, handsome, I guess.”

  “When you’ve pictured your future boyfriend, you don’t know what he looks like?”

  “It’s more of a feeling,” I said, crossing my legs as I forced my fingers to stop tapping my pen. “I guess I want him to be good looking, but also make me feel…you know. That tingle.”

  Christine laughed so loud that a couple of the laptop jockeys in the front glanced over their shoulders at us in surprise. “Honey, trust me. An extremely wrong man can make y
ou tingle as well.”

  “Quiet,” I shushed her. “You know what I mean. That spark. That magical little spark that everyone talks about.”

  “You can feel the spark from the laziest guy in the universe who lives in his mother’s basement if he has pretty eyes,” she giggled.

  “Eyes,” I heard myself say softly. “Yeah, he has to have dreamy eyes.”

  “Write that down,” she said, pointing to my notebook.

  I felt silly but added ‘dreamy eyes’ to the list.

  “Do you want him to be sporty, or artsy, or anything in particular?” she asked.

  “I guess it’s more about energy,” I said, looking up to watch a streetcar pass by the window. “If he wants to go rock climbing and parasailing and whatever crazy things, that’s great, as long as he’s not aggressive when he’s around me. Does that make any sense?”

  “I think so. You’re a quiet type, and you don’t want him to drag you too far out of your comfort zone.”

  Nodding, I wrote, ‘Respectful of my comfort zone.’

  “So far, this sounds like a quarter of the guys on the planet,” Christine said. “Oh, wait–” she pulled out her phone and scrolled through something, then held up the screen. ‘Singles meet up tonight at The Duke Lounge.’

  “I’d go with you, but I have a date with Kyle,” Christine continued. “Marie sent me the link, but she can’t go either.” Marie was Christine’s slightly older sister, who was a bit uptight, but had always been nice to me. Plus, it sounded like she was subtly trying to get Christine to date better men.

  Christine laughed as I added to the list, ‘Don’t want to meet him in a bar.’

  “Why not? People meet in bars all the time.”

  “It’s just tacky,” I said, shaking my head quickly. “It’s not something that you want to tell your kids someday.”

  “Kids won’t care,” she said. “Tell them that mommy and daddy met in a bar, and you should be happy about it because now you exist.”

  “It just doesn’t feel right.”

  “Well, Miss Fussy Pants, this is at a lounge, not a bar. So there. Honestly, I think you should go and just meet a couple of people to break the ice.”

  Her hand darted out to clutch my wrist. “Hey – with all of your manifesting and intentional planning stuff, aren’t you supposed to believe in signs?”

  “A bit.”

  “I remembered to tell you about this event while you were in the midst of plotting the details of your future boyfriend. That is totally a sign, and you have to go.”

  She forwarded me the information, and I heard my phone beep in my purse on the chair beside me. “I’m sorry, I have to run,” she said, “Kyle is picking me up in an hour, and I still have to change and do my makeup.”

  Staring at her face analytically as only a best friend can, I shook my head. “Your makeup is perfect. What are you talking about?”

  She stuck her tongue out saucily. “He likes the rocker girl look, so I pile on the eyeliner.”

  “You’re changing yourself for him?” Christine was such a strong personality that I couldn’t imagine it.

  Her head tipped back and forth as she considered. “No, not exactly. It’s more like…he brings out that side of me.”

  I added “Doesn’t want to change me’ to the list.

  Christine leaned over to give me a hug, then gulped the last of her coffee. “I expect a full report tomorrow of how this event went,” she said, tapping my notebook. “Go meet some people. Even if you only stay for half an hour, it’ll be good for you to get started. Forward momentum. Don’t the self-help books mention that a lot?”

  She waved as she breezed out the door.

  I knew that she wasn’t actually making fun of me, but her teasing still struck a chord. I knew that I was uptight and structured most of the time. It was the way I held myself together in a chaotic world.

  I had watched as my mother let life push her around – my father leaving her when I was a baby, then a string of nowhere jobs. Now she was semi-retired in Florida thanks to a small amount of money from when my grandfather passed away, and it was the first stability she’d ever had.

  But maybe Christine was right. Keeping things precisely the same didn’t move my life forward. I was nervous when I asked for a promotion at the bookstore, and had been scared when I cut my hair, but those things had turned out fabulous.

  But it was different when my next goal involved becoming extremely close with another person. A stranger at first. This was the moment when I could do what was easy, and avoid it for now, or what was hard, and put myself out there.

  My fingers began to shake at the idea of going to the event, and my back slumped from the need to disappear. Rolling my shoulders back, I took a deep breath, then I thought.

  If I went home to change, had a snack, then popped by the lounge for just half an hour, maybe I could solidify some of my intentions, then come home and make a complete list of everything I was looking for.

  I always joked that “manifest” truly means “make a list.” There was no way I was going to manifest a man unless I made a proper list first.

  CHAPTER TWO

  * Kellan *

  There were so many things that I couldn’t depend on in this world, and I could not believe my younger brother Dale had become one of them. I knew it was bad news as soon as I saw that the number calling the main line was his. “Good evening, Duke Lounge. How may I help you?”

  “Kellan, it’s Dale. Listen, I’m really sorry, but Cheryl needs my help tonight, and I won’t make it in.”

  My knuckles clenched around the wooden edge of the bar. “This whole singles mixer thing was your idea,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “No, I just told the women running the event that they could have it there. Other than covering my shift, you don’t even have to do anything. They’ll just take up the back area and...I don’t know. Drink and mingle, I guess.”

  “Dale, if I have to cover you tonight, don’t even think that you’re getting shifts this weekend,” I said. “Those will be going to Jackie.”

  I could almost hear him hanging his head in disappointment. “Oh. Yeah, I understand.”

  “I have to give shifts to the people I know will show up,” I said as calmly as possible. “I can’t be here all the time.”

  “Okay. Thanks. Got to go.”

  For a brief flash, I was glad that he didn’t become a doctor if this was how easily he blew off appointments. Even though my brother was five years younger , I didn’t like to treat him as a kid. I thought he’d been getting on track when he had been planning to go to med school. But then he met Cheryl.

  I used to like and respect my kid brother , but this new woman changed him completely. I got a bad feeling when she demanded that he buy her jewelry when they’d only been together a few weeks. It was like she was demanding to be symbolically claimed too early. It was a subtle sign, but I didn’t like it.

  After diamond earrings, a diamond necklace, and ostentatious European weekend getaways, she practically ordered Dale to propose. I couldn’t imagine how much debt he must have gone into for that ring, or maybe he used the cash he’d been saving for university, since Cheryl changed that plan.

  She planned and supervised a lavish wedding after they’d only been together five months. Nobody could believe it, but Dale continued acting like this was expected, and that he was happy with everything.

  Months later, his life was nothing but working twelve-hour construction days, trying to pick up extra shifts at my bar, and obeying Cheryl’s every command.

  The weirdest thing was, Dale didn’t seem phased at all. I tried to speak with him, and Mom did too, but he said he was happy.

  Being the complete opposite of my brother in some ways, I needed total control at all times. That was the only way I made this bar work for the past few years, then managed to buy two more. Running the Duke Lounge, Duke’s Bar & Grill, and Duke’s Little Bar kept me running between the three neighborhoods
, but these businesses were all mine.

  Two tall blonde women came in about twenty minutes later, introducing themselves as Caitlin and Megan, and they explained their singles night games and activities. I just waved them toward the back room, saying that they could arrange the furniture however they liked.

  Matchmaking apps, singles nights, and the entire dating industry did not interest me in the slightest. It was all so forced and artificial. As if these people were planning out what they wanted like a grocery list, then simply went shopping to pick each other up.

  It just didn’t feel right.

  I didn’t often work the bar Thursday nights anymore, so it was actually rather nice getting back in touch with some of the regulars. Many local businesses had get-togethers on Thursdays, with businessmen drinking whiskey, working men drinking beer, and ladies ordering everything from fancy cocktails to a simple glass of wine.