Wait With Me (Wait With Me, #1)(67)

Sam shrugs. “At first, my uncle was just giving Miles shit. He had him stacking tires upstairs in the storage room after a big shipment came in. He said he wanted to see how far he’d go for a pretty girl.”

My jaw drops.

Sam rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “But now I think my uncle’s taking advantage of him because he’s still got Miles doing shit, even tonight.”

“Miles is still here?” I ask, my voice rising in pitch, my belly doing that fireworks thing again that sounds like diarrhea but feels like delicious anticipation.

Sam nods. “He’s upstairs.”

“Upstairs,” I ask, my brows furrowing.

Sam walks toward me and hangs a left to the door that enters the garage. He points to a set of industrial stairs. “He’s up there stacking tires. You should give this to him yourself.” He hands the carburetor over to me, the corners of his mouth tipping up into a smile. “He knows you’re not like Jocelyn, Kate. Go put the boy out of his misery.”

I take the carburetor from Sam, my tummy literally up in my throat as I do. My nerves are intense at what I’m about to do, but Miles wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t care for me. This must mean more than casual to him.

I make my way into the quiet garage, but before I head toward the stairs, I call back to Sam, “There’s a couple of sweaty friends of mine waiting in the courtesy van. Will you tell them to go on ahead without me?”

Sam frowns at the parking lot but gives me a thumbs up. I turn back to the stairs and take a deep breath.

I’m a mess, I’m disgusting, and I’ve had a horrible day. There’s only one person who can make it better. Time for my book-worthy moment.





I was laser focused through my work day at Tire Depot because all I could think about was finishing here and going straight to Mercedes’s house when I was done. Or Kate, I should say. I need to talk to her. I need to make sure that what we had was real. I also need to tell her that I don’t want casual anymore either. I want her. Only her.

I’m done with this half-ass attempt at making up for my twenties that I missed. I just want her. She’s right, I can’t compare her drama to Jocelyn’s drama. I’ve been fighting my feelings for Kate for all the wrong reasons, and I’m done with that shit now.

I sling a tire up onto a stack of eight that are set to go on a semi tomorrow morning when I hear a voice behind me. “I’m wondering if you can help me with some more book research. It has to do with a happy ending.”

I turn and see Kate standing by the stairs about twenty feet away from me. Red hair stacked up in a ball on top of her head. Curly tendrils slipping out all around her face. She’s wearing a T-shirt that’s tied in a knot off to the side, revealing a strip of flesh right above her Daisy Dukes. She looks dirty and sweaty and exhausted.

She looks perfect.

With a soft smile, I grab the bottom of my white tank top that’s covered in black from tire rubber and swipe at the sweat running down my forehead. “What are you doing here?” I ask, licking my lips and trying to stop my blood pressure from spiraling out of control.

She moves something metal back and forth in her hand that I can’t see from this far away as she says, “Did you pay off Sam’s uncle for me to write inside the comfort center?”

My face falls, my brows furrowing when I realize she must have spoken to Sam. “Not in money but in labor, so yeah, I guess so.” I look around at the sea of tires surrounding me in answer.

She nods and chews on her lower lip as she walks closer to me. “Do you know what this is?”

I frown down at the hunk of metal in her hands. “That looks like a carburetor.”

“Do you know for what kind of vehicle?” she asks, her blue eyes pinning mine in place.

I shake my head and shrug. “I can’t tell from here.”

She pauses and sets it down on a cart next to the clipboard of tire orders that I check off as I stack. “It’s for a 1965 Ford F100.”

My jaw falls open.

“That’s the one you have at home, right?” she asks, blinking her wide eyes at me.

I nod.

She smiles.

“Where did you get it?” I husk, my voice raw with shock and disbelief.

“It’s kind of a long, crazy story.” I see her throat swallow slowly. “But I’m hoping it has a great ending.”

My stunned expression morphs into wonder. “What kind of ending?” I ask, wiping my hands off on my jeans as she stops ten feet in front of me now. I can see the brilliant blue of her eyes and the light sheen of sweat all over her body.

She’s stunning.

She exhales heavily through her nose, a flush crawling up her cheeks as she replies, “The kind where you let me apologize for lying to you.” She hits me with a serious look and says, “I’m Kate Smith from Longmont, Colorado, whose ex technically still lived with her until two weeks ago when she moved in with her best friend, Lynsey. I’m not some brave erotic romance author who’s into kink and cool with casual and uses a mechanic for ‘book research.’ I’m a girl who’s been falling for a guy who works at Tire Depot and would really like to go home with him and just take a frickin’ shower.”

She exhales heavily, clearly out of breath from her long-winded confession.