A gentle tap on my shoulder has my head snapping to the right.
It’s Mercedes.
My adorable redhead.
Up close and personal like this, she’s not adorable, though. She’s super fucking sexy. Her eyes are lined with a thick black pencil. Brown eyeshadow on her lids makes her blues irises brighter than ever before. Her glossy, red lipstick emphasizes her lips. The plumpness of them reminds me of the time I watched her wrap her mouth around that breadstick and—
“Hey, Miles,” Mercedes says, tucking a strand of silky hair behind her ear.
“Hey, Mercedes,” I husk, clearing my throat and standing to my full height.
In her heels, the top of her head reaches my chin, and I can smell the floral scent of her shampoo from this vantage point.
“Fancy seeing you here!” She laughs awkwardly and gives me a chummy punch to the shoulder. She glances behind her at where Sam has retreated to give us some privacy. “I thought you were going camping?”
“I thought you were writing,” I retort and look over her head to see Sam sliding his pointer finger across his neck, silently telling me to cool it.
Her cheeks deepen in color, but she holds her chin up high and replies, “Well, as you said, I need to take a break on occasion.”
I nod, clenching my jaw as my gaze finds the dude she came in with. He’s staring us down like we’re the live entertainment tonight instead of the DJ up in the booth.
“That your boyfriend?” I ask, nodding to Mr. Fancy Pants.
Mercedes looks over her shoulder and begins laughing. “God, no. That’s Dean. He’s my friend. And that’s Lynsey standing next to him, my other friend. We’re all neighbors, kind of?”
I nod, narrowing my eyes at the guy in annoyance. Whatever he’s trying to communicate is a different language than the one Mercedes is speaking right now. He’s certainly not watching her like he’s just a friend.
Turning away, I point over at Sam, who’s doing a poor job of pretending to look for something in the giant barrel of peanuts while eavesdropping on our conversation. “This is my buddy, Sam.”
Sam’s head pops up like he hasn’t been listening to every word we’ve said so far. Smooth move, Sam. In one giant step, he’s next to Mercedes and shaking her hand.
“Hi,” she says with a genuine smile.
“Nice to meet you…”
“Mercedes,” I finish when she doesn’t look like she’s going to. I look at Mercedes and add, “Sam works with me at the shop.”
Mercedes nods slowly, clearly more cautious of him now that she knows where he works. “Nice to meet you.”
“We’re going camping tomorrow,” Sam offers, clearly trying to make up for my current lack of social skills. “We head out in the morning.”
She looks up at me through her thick mascaraed eyes and smiles. “I’m heading to the coffee shop in the morning.”
I offer a half-smile back to her, and our eyes hold each other for a long moment. It feels like we’re both thinking the same thing at this moment. A thought resembling the question, why have we not hung out again?
But for some reason, I think we both know the answer to that.
Mercedes breaks the silence. “Well, I’ll lea—”
“Can I buy you a drink?” I ask quickly before she makes her great escape. I know it’s stupid, and I know it’s probably not wise, but I’m not ready to see her go yet.
That dimple in her cheek catches my eye as she glances back at her friends for a split second. “A drink sounds good.”
“Please, take my seat,” Sam rushes out, turning his stool to her and all but shoving her down into it. “I’m going to go say hi to my friend. He’s the DJ tonight.”
“Thanks,” Mercedes says, and he runs off like an overeager puppy dog retrieving his mommy’s slippers.
I exhale heavily and take the seat adjacent to her that I’ve been propped on this entire time. “What’s your poison? I can ask if they serve coffee in an IV drip if you’d like.”
My familiar teasing has her laughing, and she swats my arm comfortably. “I’ll take a beer. I’ve been drinking liquor already, and it’s never good for me to stick with liquor all night.”
Our knees brush together as I angle myself to her. “And why is that?”
“Well, I either get mean, or I get slutty.”
“Slutty?” I cock a brow at her and slap my hand on the bar. “Bartender! Let’s get this girl a shot!”
She laughs that deep, rich laugh, and I can already feel my growly demeanor disappearing. “Beer!” she corrects, pointing at what I have in my hand.
The bartender nods and pops the top off a beer and slides it down the bar to land perfectly in her hands. She takes a sip and smiles her thanks at me. “So what have you been up to since I saw you six hours ago?” she asks.
“Oh, I cured cancer and decided to go out and celebrate with my buddy, Sam. You?”
“Same.” She shrugs with a serious look that she’s having trouble maintaining. “Do you live downtown?”
I shake my head. “Nah, I live nearby, in Jamestown. I bought a fixer-upper there last year.”
She splays her hands out on the bar and drops her head with a groan. “Oh man, you’re one of those painfully handy guys, aren’t you?”
I chuckle at her question. “I don’t know about handy, but I can usually figure most stuff out. Or I google it after screwing it up and then figure it out.”
She props her stunning face in a hand. “I bet you clean your own gutters too, don’t you?” she says with a speculative look and takes another long pull of her beer.
“Yes, I do. But I usually end up cleaning them out in the rain because I only remember to do it when it’s pouring outside, and the water is spilling over the top of them.”
She nods and bites her lip like she’s really deep in thought. “So you’re all wet on a ladder and digging into your gutters to get the leaves out?” She uses her hands to gesticulate the action, then shakes her head.
“Yes.” I chuckle. “What the fuck are you doing? Why does your face look like that?”
She takes a deep breath. “I’m painting a pretty picture in my head.”
I roll my eyes. “Am I shirtless in this picture?”
She giggles knowingly. “Noo, you’re wearing one of those tank tops you wear under your coveralls.”
“You’re very observant,” I murmur around the mouth of my bottle. “Always plotting.” I shoot her a wink as I take a sip.
She shoots one back.
By the time we’re on our second round, neither of us is feeling any pain, both clearly having indulged prior to this moment.
Mercedes licks her lips and turns her body to face me straight on so her legs are pressed together between my sprawled out ones. “Miles,” she states with a twinkle in her eye.
“Mercedes.”
A peculiar look shoots over her face, but she brushes it away and sets her beer down. “Why have you never asked me to hang out again like you did that night we had pizza together?”
She must be tipsy to be coming in hot with questions like that. I eye her for a moment, noting that her eyes are a bit more hooded than before, but I’m not exactly sober either, so I’m not one to judge.
I shrug nonchalantly and hit her with honesty. “Tire Depot seems safer.”
“Safer,” she repeats, grabbing her bottle, but pausing before she takes another drink. “Meaning, I won’t run into you again and catch my flip-flop under your boot?”
“Something like that.” I chuckle, picking at the label on my beer with my thumbnail. “Which is probably for the best because, in those sexy shoes, I’m pretty sure you’d end up breaking an ankle or worse.”
Her posture straightens, and the corners of her mouth turn down in a pleased smirk. “You think my shoes are sexy?”
She lifts the black strappy sandal up between us, causing her skirt to ride up dangerously high. I see a whole lot of tanned thigh and a flash of black panties, and instantly, my dick pushes up against my zipper.