Wait With Me (Wait With Me, #1)(19)

I roll my eyes. “Am I shirtless in this picture?”

She giggles knowingly. “Noo, you’re wearing one of those tank tops you wear under your coveralls.”

“You’re very observant,” I murmur around the mouth of my bottle. “Always plotting.” I shoot her a wink as I take a sip.

She shoots one back.

By the time we’re on our second round, neither of us is feeling any pain, both clearly having indulged prior to this moment.

Mercedes licks her lips and turns her body to face me straight on so her legs are pressed together between my sprawled out ones. “Miles,” she states with a twinkle in her eye.

“Mercedes.”

A peculiar look shoots over her face, but she brushes it away and sets her beer down. “Why have you never asked me to hang out again like you did that night we had pizza together?”

She must be tipsy to be coming in hot with questions like that. I eye her for a moment, noting that her eyes are a bit more hooded than before, but I’m not exactly sober either, so I’m not one to judge.

I shrug nonchalantly and hit her with honesty. “Tire Depot seems safer.”

“Safer,” she repeats, grabbing her bottle, but pausing before she takes another drink. “Meaning, I won’t run into you again and catch my flip-flop under your boot?”

“Something like that.” I chuckle, picking at the label on my beer with my thumbnail. “Which is probably for the best because, in those sexy shoes, I’m pretty sure you’d end up breaking an ankle or worse.”

Her posture straightens, and the corners of her mouth turn down in a pleased smirk. “You think my shoes are sexy?”

She lifts the black strappy sandal up between us, causing her skirt to ride up dangerously high. I see a whole lot of tanned thigh and a flash of black panties, and instantly, my dick pushes up against my zipper.

Mercedes notices what she’s just done and quickly drops her leg and turns toward the bar. Pursing her lips together, she demurely shimmies her skirt back down her thighs.

I lean in to whisper in her ear. “Really sexy.”

She clears her throat and turns to look at me. “So what are your real plans for tonight? Were you really just here with your buddy to hang? Or were you on the hunt?”

“On the hunt?” I question her phrase because it sounds funny coming from her.

“For tail!” she chirps, twirling in her seat to look at the bar that’s now filled to the brim. “For chicks. For a one-night stand that gets super awkward in the morning because she wants to make you pancakes and you want to chew your arm off and sneak out before she wakes up.”

I belly laugh at that very apt description. “Well, considering I was with my ex for the better part of my twenties, yeah, I guess I’m looking for casual.”

She nods intently, eyeing me down her nose. “I could tell that about you.”

“How?” I ask, disbelieving.

“You wear those T-shirts that show off your biceps.” She reaches out and snaps the material around my arm. “This can’t be comfortable. Why do you wear shirts like this?”

“This is how most shirts fit me.” I look down at her creamy legs. “And that little skirt you’re wearing is for comfort, I suppose?”

She shrugs innocently. “It’s stretchy.”

“Well, so are my shirts.”

We both laugh and take another drink.

“So what’s your type? What draws your eye? Gimme a hair color, something to work with.” She’s looking out at the people again like she’s seriously going to help me find someone to bang.

My gaze lingers on her hair, sliding down the smooth strands that fall softly over her chest. I clear my throat and reply, “Brunettes. My ex was a blonde. I’m over blondes. They do not have more fun.”

“Brunettes, it is. Let’s see.” She claps her hands and analyzes the crowd until her eyes land on someone. “Not my friend, Lynsey. She already dated our friend Dean, and it was so awkward for months after that.”

I eye her friends who are at a table with a few other people, and they don’t seem the least bit concerned that I’ve monopolized their friend for the evening. “Okay, friends are off-limits. That’s fair.”

“How about that one?” She points at a girl sipping on a cocktail in a corner booth. She’s trapped in by a couple of other girls who look like they are having a major bitchfest about someone.

“She’s swarmed by other chicks. I try to avoid the packs. They get awkward.”

“How so?”

“Well, there’s always one friend who tries to cock block. One friend who tries to steal the guy. And another who’ll make her friend feel bad about herself for being a slut.”

“Man, girls can be mean.”

“You’re telling me.” I take a pull of my bottle. “What about you? Why aren’t you on the hunt? You said you were over your ex, right?”

“Oh, I totally am. He’s vile.”

“And your friend Dean isn’t a prospect?” I ask, feeling annoyed at the fact that I still seek that verification.

“No.” She shakes her head. “He reminds me of my brothers.”

I doubt your brothers touch you the way he did earlier.