Wait With Me (Wait With Me, #1)(36)

“I don’t know yet.” She shrugs. “I might. But I want to try this out first.”

“Okay,” I reply with a frown. “But you know you could still write there. No one knows about you.”

She laughs and frowns at me curiously. “We’ll see.” She shrugs noncommittally again, and it’s annoying. Why doesn’t she want to write there anymore?

Shaking off my agitation, I step back and spread my arms out wide to stretch. “So what did your roommate do to piss you off that you’re moving his shit out?”

She rolls her eyes. “What didn’t he do?”

I laugh at her cute little flash of attitude and reply, “Well, I’ll definitely help you. This is the stuff guys like me were born to do.” I give her a wink and flex my arms cockily. “Should we shower before or after hard labor?”

She smiles. “Why not both?”





“I’ve entered into a casual, friends-with-benefits situation with a mechanic from Tire Depot who thinks my name is Mercedes,” I groan to my author friend, Hannah, on the phone while sprawled out dramatically on the now empty floor of the upstairs bedroom. “Tell me what to do.”

“Okay, what book is this for?”

“It’s not for a book.”

“Wait, what?” she asks.

“It’s not for a book. It’s for me.”

“This is actually happening to you?”

“Yes.”

“Like in real life?”

“Yes, Hannah! And I like him way more than just a friend so can you keep up, please? I’m in crisis mode, and I’m not sure what to do!”

“Besides bone him every chance you get?”

“Yeah. I mean…I’m kind of avoiding him this week to sort of play it cool, so he doesn’t catch on that I like him.”

“Which you do.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want him to know that!”

“Listen to me,” she states, and I swear I hear her laptop close. “Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to go camping.”

“Camping?” I repeat.

“Camping.”

“Why?”

“Cuz blue collar guys love that shit. Tell him it’s for book research, and you need his help.”

“Oh! That’s good because I already used that excuse!”

“Perfect. I can see this playing out like a damn movie, and you know when I plot, and they play out like movies, it’s a best seller.”

“Yes!” I squeal excitedly, sitting up because now I’m too anxious to lie down.

Her voice gets mock high, like a Marilyn Monroe impression. “You’re going to be adorable and fumbling and not know how to cast a fishing pole, and he’s going to realize how much fun it is to go camping and get to fuck in a tent.” She shifts her tone to hard butch at the end, and I’m literally clutching my belly from laughing so hard.

“Oh my God, this sounds good.”

“But make him sweat it out for a while before you call him. When was the last time you slept with him?”

“Two days ago.”

“Perfect. Wait a few more days. Make him wonder for a whole week what you’re doing. It’ll drive him mad. Then when you do see him, play it super cool. Like you’re just one of the guys.”

“That sounds really good.”

“See? Book ideas can apply in the real world.”

“You’re a genius, Hannah,” I state, sitting up and looking around the empty room. Now’s as good a time as any to redecorate. “I’m going camping!”

“Let me know where to have the pizza delivered to.”

“Ha-ha. Bitch.”





“Dude, you are so screwed,” Sam says, catching me totally off guard as I stare out the shop window into the alley.

“Jesus, fucker, warn a guy!” I exclaim, pressing my hand to my chest as I feel my heart rate pounding. “Why are you walking so softly?”

“I wasn’t walking softly.” He frowns down at his feet.

“Yeah, you were,” I growl, tossing my impact wrench into my toolbox. “I didn’t hear you because you tiptoed over to my station like a creep.”

“I wasn’t tiptoeing, moron. I was walking like a human. You’ve just been in your own little world all week, peeping out the window like a lovestruck teenager. If anyone’s the creep, it’s you.”

I roll my eyes and have to fight the urge not to look out the window again, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mercedes. It’s become a habit I don’t even realize I’m doing anymore. Possibly even worse than licorice smoking.

It’s been a week since her party, and I’m growing more and more frustrated by the fact she hasn’t returned to Tire Depot to write. Or called me.

“I thought you said it was casual,” Sam states, propping down on a metal shop stool and cranking the empty vise grip.

“It is. I’m not obsessing. I’m just…wondering why she hasn’t come back. I probably fucked this up.”

“Fucked what up exactly? You said you don’t want anything more than casual with her.”

“I want friendship,” I reply through clenched teeth as I unzip my coveralls and step out of them. “I like her as a friend. She’s not like anyone I’ve ever met. She’s always saying something that surprises me, and she’s really fucking cool in an unfiltered, real sort of way. She’s cooler than you, that’s for damn sure.”