Wait With Me (Wait With Me, #1)(56)

My eyes lift to his, and instant sympathy casts over me. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

He exhales heavily and offers a sad smile. “Yeah, it was a shock to all of us. I mean, he was seventy-seven, so it’s not like he didn’t live a good, long life. But he was one of those guys who seemed like he’d live forever.”

“Never aging? Always just in that perfect grandpa look?”

“Yeah,” Miles agrees. “Do you have a grandparent like that?”

I laugh softly. “My grandma who schedules meetings for me with her priest. She’s going to live forever, I’m sure of it. And if she dies, she’ll definitely haunt me from her grave.” Miles shakes his head, but I stave off his sympathy. “In some ways, I like pushing the old bird. It’s like our special connection, you know?”

He nods, moving to the front of the truck and staring down the hood. “I get that. For my grandpa and me, it was cars. I remember working on this with him as a kid. He taught me so much. I knew the names of tools before the names of my cousins. Drove my mom nuts.”

I giggle. “God, I bet you were a cute kid. Dark hair, bright eyes. I bet you got whatever you wanted from your grandpa.”

Miles lifts his brow. “Well, he always kept candies in the glove box for me.” He walks over to where I stand and moves me out of the way so he can open the passenger side door. Leaning in, he presses the button to the compartment and grabs a bag of round, pink candies.

“Want one?” he asks with a tipped smile, the scent of wintergreen hitting me right in the nose.

I laugh and shake my head. “No. If those were your grandpa’s, they should stay right where they are.”

He nods and replies, “They’re so old, but I can’t bring myself to eat them or throw them away.” He leans back into the truck and puts them back where he found them.

When he pulls back to close the door, I think I see a sheen to his eyes that wasn’t there before. He props himself on the door and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I think that brake fluid is still stinging my eyes.”

I reach out and rub my hand on his arm in a smooth, comforting motion, a knot forming in my throat at the pain he’s trying so hard to hide.

“What is it?” I ask, my thumb rubbing the inside of his wrist in slow, gentle circles.

He shakes his head with a sad smile. “Nothing.”

“Miles,” I repeat, looking up at him encouragingly. “Just tell me.”

He exhales and leans his back against the open door. “I wish I had it running already.” He looks up at the ceiling as if he’s trying to get the sprouting tears to go back into his body. “It was kind of a dying promise I made to him, and I feel bad I haven’t finished it yet.”

“Miles,” I say with a sad laugh. “Look at this thing. It’s gorgeous. It’s art! You’ve already done so much to it.”

He shakes his head and gives me a laugh. “He’d give me shit for not having it done, though. He liked to pretend to be this grumpy old man, but he had a soft side he only showed to a couple of us.”

This image makes me smile. “Those are the best kinds. It means more when you’re one of the lucky ones who get that side of them.”

“Exactly,” Miles replies, looking back down at me.

“Did he like your ex?” I ask, the question tumbling out of my lips unexpectedly.

Miles seems puzzled by this question but shakes it off. “Nah, he pretty much hated her. The first time I’d ever heard him use the word bitch was in reference to her.”

This makes me giggle so hard I have to cover my mouth. “I think I would have liked your grandpa a lot.”

Miles tilts his head thoughtfully at me, assessing me up and down for a moment. “For some reason, I think he would have liked you, too.”

“Oh?” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning on the car. “Why would I get special treatment, you think?”

He shrugs. “I think because you’re so real, Mercedes. You don’t put on a show for people, and everything you say is exactly what you are. It’s a rare quality—to be exactly what you show people.”

Guilt crushes down on me at his words. Then the words from Dean the other day pile on top of that. I need to tell him my name. This was the point of tonight. It’s gone on long enough. I’m playing games, and when you play games, someone always loses.

Miles’s stunning blue eyes are full of pain and passion, and so open to me that I feel like I can see his entire soul. I know the time for the truth is now. I need him to know all of me. The boring and the brave. “Miles, I need to tell you—”

I can’t finish my sentence because his mouth is on mine. His huge frame hunched over, and my face cradled in his hands as his tongue sweeps between my lips to caress my tongue.

My hands reach up and grab the back of his arms, holding on for dear life as his lips possess me in such a tender way that I feel butterflies erupt in my toes, in my legs, in my belly, my head. Even in my chest. Especially in my chest, right in the place that thumps harder as he presses my backside flush to the cool metal behind me.

He tilts his head and deepens the kiss, thoughtfully paying homage to both my upper and lower lip before his tongue dives into my mouth, massaging against my own, artfully giving and taking. Ebbing and flowing. A gentle claiming.