Page 48 of Wait With Me
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.”
