Wait With Me

by Amy Daws

  “What’s that?”

  “Joce made you miserable, and this girl makes you happy, true or false?”

  I swallow around a knot in my throat. “True.”

  “So you’re going to let one bad night discredit several moments of happiness?”

  “I don’t know if it’s that simple, Meg.”

  “It’s only as complicated as you make it, bro. I think you’re overreacting because you’ve been burned. And that’s understandable. But don’t throw away a good thing because of your past. It’s already taken enough from you.”

  I run a hand over my head and sigh heavily. “How did you get so fucking insightful?”

  “I’m wise beyond my years.” She giggles, and I hear a rustling in the background. “I’m just getting to my kickboxing class. I gotta go. Call me after you quit being an idiot and make up with that girl!”

  She hangs up without another word, and I can’t help but smile. And part of my smile is because for the first time in two weeks, I think maybe I was wrong. Not about being upset with Kate for lying to me about some pretty major shit, but about the fact that I never really let her explain her side of things. I never fought with her. I shut her down like I chose to shut down drama in my life after being burned so badly with Joce.

  But the fact that I’d never punched another man until that night with Kate says something.

  It says that Kate Smith is a woman worth fighting for.

  “I’m sweaty. I’m tired. And I stink in places I really shouldn’t be stinking.” I whine and shoot a glare to Dean, who’s sitting in the passenger seat looking sheepish.

  “What?” he exclaims with his hands raised. “I didn’t know we’d have fucking car trouble. Your car isn’t even a year old.”

  “I know!” I snap, hitting my hand on the wheel and growling in frustration. “Stupid old lady car!” I exclaim and push my head closer to the window for a breeze. “The frickin’ air conditioning isn’t even working anymore. Me and this car are officially in a fight.”

  “I think we all just need to remain calm,” Lynsey chirps from the back seat, leaning forward so her head comes between Dean’s and mine. “Because, as horrible as this trip was, after everything that’s happened between the three of us the past couple of years, I think this was really healing.”

  I close my eyes and shake my head, ruing the moment I agreed that a road trip to the Rocky Mountains to pick up this four-thousand-dollar carburetor from some hick who apparently didn’t know how to ‘mail things so they don’t get lost.’”

  Honestly! How are people who don’t use the mail a thing? Though, admittedly, when we got to the man’s mountain home, I realized that he was probably more familiar with the Pony Express. And I couldn’t be sure his wife wasn’t his cousin. But that’s me being judgmental. Still, though, it’s no wonder he wouldn’t let me PayPal him the money. I had to get an actual cashier’s check from a real bank.

  Then on our way back down the mountain, I got a flat tire. Dean, Lynsey, and I set about changing it together, thinking three heads could figure out how to put a spare tire on better than one.

  One minute, I’m snapping at Dean to hand me the tire iron, and the next minute, he’s asking me if I’m being a bitch because he told me he had feelings for me. Then Lynsey chimes in, hurt and dismayed that neither of us told her about our conversation at the bakery, and it was a mess. On top of all of that, my car wouldn’t start back up! It was a disaster.

  The three of us fighting with each other on the side of the road looked like a bad episode of Sister Wives: Colorado Edition.

  I should probably make more friends.

  “God, I hope this thing is legit,” Dean states, turning the carburetor over in his hands.

  “Put it down. You’re making me nervous,” I snap, eyeing him cautiously.

  We’re only five miles from Tire Depot, and they close in ten, so my nerves are freaking fried. “I just want to drop this thing off and forget this whole trip ever happened.”

  “No!” Lynsey exclaims. “Stick to the plan. This is your grand gesture! Your get out of jail free card.”

  “I don’t want a get out of jail free card,” I cry back. “The longer we spent on that hot highway trying to figure out what was wrong with my car, the more ridiculous this plan became in my head. I don’t want to buy Miles’s affection back. I want him to want me for me. Flaws and all.”

  “So what are you going to do?” Dean asks, and I feel his concerned eyes on mine.

  “I’m going to drop this expensive hunk of metal at the counter and leave. I’m not giving it to him naked or holding the thing above my head like John Cusack in Say Anything. I’ll drop it off at the front counter, and then we’ll go. End of story.”

  Lynsey’s voice pipes up from behind. “That sounds like the worst ending to a book I’ve ever heard.”

  “This isn’t a book!” I shriek. “This is my life, and it’s no wonder this plan has turned into such a mess. It has desperation stamped all over it. I just want to go home, eat some pizza, and cry a little, okay?”

  The car is dead silent as we enter Boulder until Dean’s voice pipes up. “Hey Kate, I know you’re a little emongry right now, but I really don’t think you should drive on this spare tire anymore. They’re only manufactured to drive for so many miles, you know.”

  I turn and glower over at him. He shrinks down into his seat a little bit. “Fine, I’ll leave it at Tire Depot overnight. One of you needs to call a cab because we’re almost there.”

  “They have a courtesy vehicle that will take us home!” Lynsey chirps up helpfully from the back seat.

  “Fine,” I mumble as we pull into the Tire Depot parking lot. I glance through the glass front side of the building and see Sam alone at the front counter. “You guys, go flag down the courtesy driver. I’ll be out in a minute, okay?”

  They both nod and fold their sweaty bodies out of my vehicle, tails tucked between their legs. I owe them copious amounts of alcohol after this shitstorm of a trip.

  When I walk inside, Sam’s eyes fly wide at my appearance. I haven’t looked in a mirror lately, but I’m betting I look a bit like Ronald McDonald after a bender.

  I hold my hands up and say, “Don’t ask,” as I place the carburetor on the desk in front of him and my key fob.

  “This can’t be from your Caddy,” Sam exclaims, a puzzled look at his brows as he turns the hunk of metal over in his hands.

  “It’s not,” I reply flatly. “It’s the carburetor Miles needs to get his grandpa’s truck running. Can you give it to him, but not tell him it’s from me please?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Sam asks, his face incredulous. “Mer—Kate, this thing costs a shitload of money. Where did you find it?”

  “It’s a long story. Just take good care of it and make sure it gets to Miles, okay? Oh, and my Cadillac needs a new tire and a service. It’s started stalling on me. I’ll call you tomorrow with the details.”

  Ignoring his perplexed expression, I turn to leave, but before I get more than a couple of steps away, he calls out, “Hey, Kate?”

  I turn on my heel and prop my sweaty hands on my hips. “Yeah?”

  “Why don’t you want to give him the carburetor yourself?” He scratches his beard nervously.

  I shrug. “Because I don’t want him back like that.” I turn to leave again, but he stops me one more time.

  “Hey, Kate.”

  “Yes?” I ask, turning back to him again.

  “You know Miles paid my uncle for every week you were here using the comfort center, right?” Sam’s sheepish expression is saying even more than his words could right now.

  “He what?” I ask, confusion all over my face.

  “My uncle is the owner of Tire Depot, and Miles worked out a sweat equity deal with him in exchange for him looking the other way while you worked in the comfort center.”

  My eyes go wide. “I thought I was flying under the radar.”

  Sam laughs. “Everybody sa
w you walking in and out of the employee entrance, Kate. You know you’re not invisible, right?”

  I inwardly deflate.

  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.

  I’m out of breath too.

  Because suddenly, with one intense look, I’m transported back to that night when there was a storm overhead and I crashed into her like I was the thunder to her lightning. Everything around us disappeared.

  Now in a sea of tires, all I see is her.

  In a flash, I’m striding toward Kate, and she’s striding toward me. We connect, and within a single breath, she’s up in my arms, both of us covered in sweat and dirt, my left arm circling her waist, my right hand splayed wide on her back, holding her flush to me as her legs wrap and tighten around my hips.

  She feels good and light in my arms. Warm and soft. The heat of a woman fucking made for me. At first, I press my forehead to hers and breathe in the smell of her. Amongst all the shop smells, nothing beats this girl’s scent. I press my lips to her damp forehead, then her temple, then the curve of her earlobe. I trail my lips along her jaw and sample the corner of her mouth with mine.

  She lets out a soft moan, which parts her lips to me, and I take that as an invitation to feast as I connect our lips straight on. My demanding tongue thrusts in to meet her eager one, our flesh dancing against each other with desire. With apology. With two weeks’ worth of anxiety, stress, and confusion.

  She sifts her fingers through my short hair, humming her appreciation into my mouth and squeezing me into her center so tight, I pulse inside my jeans with need.

  I pull back to look at her. “Were you serious about that shower?”

  Her mouth tips up with a breathy laugh. “God, yes.”

  “Good, because I’m disgusting, and all I want to do is bury myself inside you right now.”

  She laughs and releases her legs around my hips, sliding down to the ground. I grab her hand with mine, hauling her behind me as I approach the carburetor she placed on the cart.

  “I can’t believe you did this,” I state incredulously, picking up the rare part in my hand. “This had to cost a fortune.”

  She lifts her shoulders. “I needed you to know that everything we experienced together wasn’t fiction. The important stuff mattered to me. A lot.”

  My eyes soften with emotion as I take in the sincerity on her face. I should have never doubted her. I should have never put her in the same category as anyone else. Kate Smith is in a league all her own.

  I crook my finger under her chin and brush her lips with mine. It’s not a sexy reclaiming like I want the minute we get to my place. It’s a tender thank you.

  “You’re amazing,” I murmur against her lips.

  She smiles softly. “So are you.”

  I slide my hand int
o hers as we make our way down the stairs to my shop station where I grab my helmet and the keys to my bike.

  “Where’s your car?” I ask, as we step out into the back alley where my bike is parked.

  “It’s staying here overnight. It needs a service, and I got a flat.”

  My eyes pin her with a curious look.

  She brushes me off. “I’ll tell you about it later. Now, I really want to climb on the back of your bike.”

  With a smirk, I pass my helmet to her and help her aboard. With a thunderous start, my bike roars to life, and I pull out of the parking lot, out of Boulder, and head to the little place I call home.

  Our lips are locked on each other’s all the way up my garage steps, all the way through my living room, my kitchen, down the hall, and into my bedroom. We break our kiss briefly to ditch our shirts. We resume said kissing as my hands reach behind Kate’s back and unclasp her bra. In one swift motion, her breasts are bare, and I’m crushing her to my chest. Lifting her feet off the ground so I can reconnect our lips and feel her bare skin against mine.

  She fumbles with the button on my jeans, so I set her down to help rid her of her shorts and panties. Turning to get the showerheads started, I kiss her for a minute longer, then pull away to guide her into the shower with me. Placing her under her own spray and myself under mine, I stare down at her as the hot water pours over her face and down her body.

  She tips her head back, her red hair slicking to her head. She drops her chin and her blue eyes are bright and rapidly blinking against the water as she looks at me looking at her.

  I step into her spray and run my hands along her collarbone and shoulders. “I fucking missed you, Kate.” My hands slide lower to run over the swells of her bare breasts, cupping them to test the weight of them. “It’s weird to call you Kate.”

  Her breath quickens as I pinch her pink nipples between my thumb and index finger. “You can call me Mercedes if you want,” she says with a soft moan.

  I shake my head slowly, gliding my hands down her ribs, over her lower belly and teasing the slit at her mound. “I like Kate. It suits you.”