Wait With Me (Wait With Me, #1)(11)

It’s nearing the end of the day, and I’m beginning to annoy myself with how often I’ve looked out that damn window. Instead of cleaning up my station for tomorrow, I decide to clock out early, clean myself up, and brave the quiet Customer Comfort Center for a little coffee before I head out.

Coverall-free and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, I walk into the empty waiting area and can’t help but smile when the only soul in sight is a redhead standing in front of the coffee machine. The shop is due to close in fifteen minutes, but she’s still hitting the caffeine like a boss.

Her back is turned to me as she waits for the machine to dispense her drink, so I take the opportunity to ogle the revealing cut of her denim shorts. They are frayed at the ends, true-blue Daisy Dukes that show off the muscular lines of her legs. A sliver of creamy skin peeks out beneath her gray tee when she reaches for a napkin, and I can’t help but drool a little at the perfect curve of her waistline.

The brunette at the pub last night had a boyfriend, so I may be extra eager to figure out the redhead’s story today. I raise my shoulders and stride over toward Mercedes with purpose. Our arms brush as I move to stand beside her and casually reach into the bakery case for a cookie.

Her head turns, and I look over to shoot her a smile. She stares down at my body first and then slowly moves her gaze up to my face.

I hit her with a wink and puzzle over the fact that she looks kind of pale. “Hey there, Red.”

She looks like she’s going to reply when suddenly, her face falls, and her eyes roll to the back of her head. She begins swaying, and with a cursed expletive, I fall to my knees and catch her right before her head hits the ground.

“Mercedes!” I exclaim, adjusting her head in my lap and pushing the strands of red hair away from her face. “Mercedes, are you okay?”

Her eyes blink rapidly, a little unfocused, then open. She looks first at the ceiling then over to me. “Miles, was it?”

I have to laugh a little at how normal she sounds. “Yeah, Miles.”

“What’s going on?” she asks, her vision becoming more focused with every passing second.

“I think maybe you fainted. Have you ever fainted before?”

She groans and brings her hand to her face to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Only when I don’t eat.”

“You haven’t eaten today?” I ask, shaking my head at her and glancing at the full rack of cookies next to the coffee machine. “How long have you been here?”

“Only since nine.”

“Jesus Christ,” I nearly growl. “Why didn’t you eat a cookie at least?”

“I don’t like to eat all the cookies,” she nearly whines, still clearly a bit foggy from her spell. “Betty works so hard on them. It’s bad enough I drink so much coffee.” Her chin wobbles, and my jaw drops when I see tears filling her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” I ask and try not to laugh as I brush away a wet tear path on her cheek. She looks so fucking cute, I think I might be in love.

“I just…I feel bad for Betty. No one ever tells her how good those cookies are. I got here early to try her danishes, and they were already gone. How crazy is that? Betty has to get up so early to make those fresh every day, and people gobble them up in seconds. I wonder if anyone appreciates her in her life? Do you know if she’s married?”

My abs vibrate as I bite my lip and try to stifle back the laugh bubbling inside me. I don’t know how much coffee she’s had today, but I’m certain it was way too much. “Betty gets a hug from me every time I see her. She knows the guys in the shop love her baked goods.”

“Really?” Mercedes croaks, her eyes filling with hope.

“Really.”

“That’s really sweet.” Her chin does that trembling thing again. “I’m sorry, I get emotional when I’m hungry. You know how some people get hangry? Hungry and angry? I get emongry. Emotional and hungry. It’s a thing. I got them to enter it in Urban Dictionary.”

If she didn’t look so pathetic, I’d be full-on belly laughing. “Well, let’s go get you something to eat then. Real food, not cookies.”

“I can take myself,” she states, moving to sit up.

I haul her up to her feet, my hands snaking around her small waist to steady her when she sways slightly. “No way, Red. You’re not driving like this. My bike is right out back.”

“I just fainted, and you want me to get on the back of your motorcycle? How is that a better option?”

She makes a good point, so I pivot quickly. “Then give me your keys, and I’ll drive your car. You’re drunk on coffee and starvation right now, and I’m not letting you out of my sight until you eat some pizza.”

“I love pizza,” she replies tearfully.

“I know.”

“How do you know?” She pins me with a serious look, her blue eyes bright and hopeful.

“Well, most people love pizza.” I shrug. “And you had a pizza shirt on the other day and pizza delivered here yesterday.”

“Oh, yeah.” She tucks her hair behind her ears and makes her way over to her computer where it rests on an end table. She closes her laptop and slides it into her bag. “A quick bite and I’ll quit bugging you.”

“Nah, you’re not bugging me,” I reply, stuffing my hands into my pockets. Maybe Sam’s right—I do have a thing for damsels in distress.