Wait With Me (Wait With Me, #1)(42)

The adorable little blonde behind the register smiles brightly and replies, “You’ll have to take a number, I’m afraid. Our next batch isn’t due out for another hour and a half. Are you planning to be here a while?”

“Yes, I have no problem waiting,” I reply, clutching my satchel to my shoulder in confirmation.

She points at the little number machine that literally spits out a paper sheet with a number, so I give it a tug. I pay for two coffees and a brownie appetizer and move to find a table to wait for Dean.

Dean and I usually try to meet here once a week to catch up and check in on each other. This was the place where he asked me for advice on how to tell Lynsey he only wanted to be friends. They’d only been dating for a month or two, but he said that the more he got to know her, the more he looked at her like a sister instead of a woman he wanted to sleep with.

On the other end, I was getting panic-stricken texts from Lynsey saying Dean still wasn’t coming on to her and what should she do so he would just man up and fuck her already?

The two of them parting ways, at least romantically, was definitely for the best. They were way too similar. I was just grateful they were able to actually continue their friendship. It took a little time, more so on Lynsey’s part than on Dean’s, but now it’s almost like it never happened.

Ever since then, this bakery has become my sacred place with Dean. And it’s the only spot in town I don’t balk at spending $5.79 for a cup of coffee. Because…croinuts.

I make my way over to a dark red booth by the picture window that overlooks Broadway Street. I slide open my phone and see I missed a text from Miles.



Miles: My dick misses you.

Me: Your dick is insatiable. It’s been two days.

Miles: Whatever. How are the words flowing?

Me: Good. Not as good as the other night though. ;)

Miles: Maybe that means you need to do more research.

Me: LOL, maybe. Actually, I thought I’d come back to Tire Depot tomorrow maybe.

Miles: Am I getting replaced by the Customer Comfort Center?

Me: Why can’t I have my cake and eat it too?

Miles: I could think of something else I’d rather be eating.

Me: OMG, you are filthy.

Miles: Says the smut writer.

Me: If I say it, it must be true.



I throw my head back to laugh and nearly jump out of my seat when I see Dean standing next to me, looking over my shoulder. “Jesus, Dean, say hello or something!”

“I was literally standing here for almost five minutes,” he retorts, an unamused look on his face.

“And reading my texts? God, you nosy jerk. Sit down.”

“I need to go take a number,” he says, gesturing over his shoulder.

“No, you don’t. I ordered for you.”

I push the second coffee over to his side of the table, and he looks relieved as he shrugs out of his sports coat. He’s dressed in a matching navy linen suit today with a white button-down underneath. No tie. A bright pair of blue and white striped socks peek out above his expensive brown shoes. Even his dark hair looks expensive gelled neatly off to one side, a clean look that is in direct contrast to his masculine beard. I shake my head at how much money Dean must spend on his appearance alone.

Don’t get me wrong. I make a really good living. But I spend it differently than he does. And I genuinely like Target’s clothes.

He slides into the booth, draping his jacket over the far end of the table before pinning me with a look. “I saw his truck outside your place a couple of nights ago.”

“Whose truck?” I ask, feigning indifference.

“Miles, who else?”

I narrow my eyes. “How do you know it was his truck?”

He scoffs. “Because I don’t know any other guy in Boulder who would drive a beastly vehicle like that.”

“Oh my God, you’re such a snob.”

“So he spent the night?” he snaps quickly, his hands reaching out to mindlessly move his coffee over to the side so he can fold his hands on the table in front of him.

My face contorts in disbelief. “What, did you come by to check back the morning after?”

He looks completely shameless when he replies, “Maybe.”

This has me rolling my eyes. “Stop worrying. It’s not serious. We’re just…fooling around.”

He shakes his head and laughs. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about, Kate.”

“Why?” I ask, dumping extra sugar into my coffee because with the way Dean is acting, I have a feeling I’m going to need my energy.

“Because for one, this guy rejected you once already.”

“Thanks for the reminder!” I exclaim, stirring in the sugar with the spoon on the table.

“I’m sorry, but he did. And you were fucking pissy about it for days. A pain in the ass to be around.”

“Well, please let me apologize for having feelings in front of my friends.”

“It wasn’t your feelings I was mad at. It was that idiot, Miles.”

“You don’t know he’s an idiot.”

“Oh, please.” He sneers and drapes his arms over the back of the booth. Everything about him looks so pompous and arrogant that I want to punch him. “He’s a mechanic at a Tire Depot. How bright can he be?”