Wait With Me (Wait With Me, #1)(44)

His words are killing me. Slowly slicing through me like tiny little pinpricks of anxiety because regardless of Dean’s willingness to commit, I don’t see him that way. I pull my hand out of his and reply, “I’m sorry, Dean.”

He pulls back and exhales heavily with a tight nod.

“I still want to be friends,” I add, but he cuts me off with a scathing look.

“I need you to go,” he states, his jaw tight with anger.

“Dean—”

“I’m not kidding, Kate. This went worse than I could have ever imagined, and I need you to go before you ruin this bakery for me. We all have our own little places we vibe at, and this is my Tire Depot. So please, can you just leave?”

Seeing the resigned look on his face that I cannot ignore, I grab my satchel off the bench before sliding out of the booth. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

He nods woodenly, and without another word, I turn and walk out, leaving Dean behind to wait with our numbers.





“Hey!” Miles exclaims, his eyes wide and surprised as I stride around the hood of some sort of vintage blue truck he’s elbows deep in.

He hits me with a megawatt smile, and I have to pause to stabilize myself on the toolbox beside me. Miles isn’t dressed in his standard Tire Depot coveralls. He’s dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a white tank top that looks about one size too small for his enormous pecs.

“I was just heading toward the comfort center, and I figured I’d stop and say hello since the garage door was wide open.”

He sets down some sort of complicated-looking car thing and pulls the bottom of his tank top up to wipe the sweat from his brow. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, even his abs have dirt and oil on them.

His entire body is glistening with sweat and oil, and his bright blue eyes are electric as ever. It’s all doing serious things to my body.

I clear my throat and blink rapidly a few times to get control of myself. “What’s that?” I ask, pointing at the contraption he set down. I need to distract my thoughts from how badly I want to bone him right here in this dirty garage.

“A carburetor,” he answers, his mouth tipping into a half-smile.

“What does it do?” I ask like the good little student I never was.

“Uhh, kind of a lot.” He scratches the back of his head and lifts it up to show me. “Do you really want to know?”

I nod because I do. I really, really do. I want to hear him drop some mechanical poetry on me right frickin’ now.

He clears his throat. “Well, it mixes a proper ratio of gasoline and air inside an engine for combustion to occur. The correct proportion is needed on the basis of a car’s speed, distance traveled, and other factors for better performance of the engine. Nowadays, most cars have fuel injectors, but the classics here still run with these.”

“Interesting,” I husk, moving in closer to him and pressing my back against the grille of the truck.

He moves in closer to me, his shoulder and leg brushing up against mine as he adds, “It’s kind of like how a candle needs oxygen to burn. Combustion of an engine can’t take place without the air the carburetor brings in.”

I pull my lips into my mouth and rub them together slowly, my gloss sticky in the summer heat. “Kind of like how an orgasm can’t be achieved without friction.”

His body shakes with silent laughter. “Sure, we could draw that parallel.”

“I’d like to draw that parallel soon,” I reply huskily.

His eyes heat at my very clear request. “Did you have something in mind?”

I wonder if a Tire Depot garage quickie is an option, but then shake that horrible idea out of my head as another thought bursts into light. “Yes, actually. I’ve been meaning to ask you if you ever go camping?”

His brow furrows at this request from left field. Clearly Miles was contemplating a garage quickie too. He clears his throat and replies, “I’ve been known to camp on occasion. Sam and I usually go to Rainbow Lakes a few times a summer. The fishing is really good there.”

“Fishing!” I squeal excitedly. Goddamn, it’s like this was meant to be. “I’d love to learn how to fish. Would you ever consider, I don’t know, taking me camping, Miles? In the interest of book research, of course.”

“Well, if it’s for book research,” he teases with a wink as he sets the carburetor down on a rolling cart. “Did you have a day in mind?”

“As soon as possible,” I bellow and purse my lips closed, rolling my eyes to the heavens. This is not playing it cool. I’m so not being casual Mercedes right now. “My schedule is really flexible, so whenever it suits you.”

He nods slowly and pulls a rag out of his back pocket to wipe his hands off. “Well, there are not a ton of tent camping spots at Rainbow Lake, and they don’t take reservations. So we’d have to go out early on Friday if we want a chance of snagging a spot.”

“Don’t you have to work?” I ask, glancing around the enormous shop full of guys and cars.

Miles shrugs with a sheepish look on his face. “I have some vacation I could use.”

I can’t hide the pleased smile on my face. And honestly, I don’t want to. “You’d use your vacation for me?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, shyness creeping over his features like a goddamn dreamboat. “Well, I’m very committed to your education, Mercedes.”