“Well, he is that, but I write some really kinky shit in my books, and that’s not exactly easy to tell your grandma about.”
“Fuck that.” I growl and slam down my beer. “I’d tell my grandma about you.”
“You would not!” she argues with an incredulous laugh. “Grandmas hate me! My grandma hates me.”
“Your grandma can’t possibly hate you. You’re perfect!”
“She hates me. She’s really religious, and every time I come home, she tries to arrange a meeting with me and her priest. She thinks I need an intervention or an exorcism or something.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry, it’s not funny.” I reach out and touch her thigh in apology.
She shrugs and picks at the label on her beer. “It’s a little funny.”
I watch her for a moment and hate the way her posture has hunched. She went from a feisty, hilarious, sex-talking hottie to this slightly uncomfortable, semi-muted version of the Mercedes I’ve been getting to know the past couple of weeks. Her ex is a fucker, and if he was here, I’d make damn sure he knew it.
Jaw tight with determination, I hold out my hand to her. “Come with me.”
She scowls at me. “Where are we going?”
“We have to go outside for a minute…just trust me.”
I pull her out of her seat and exhale heavily through my nostrils at how high her skirt has ridden up. She smiles sheepishly and pulls her hand from mine to pull it down. Damnit, she’s way too sexy.
She gives her friends a one-minute sign by holding her finger up as I pull her through the crowd to the exit. The bouncer stamps both of our hands and takes her half-drunk beer as I haul her up the stairs and out the front door.
It’s balmy out, the night air damp and hot against our skin. The blue neon lights of the Walrus Saloon sign glow against our skin as I look around for a private area away from the noisy drunks. Yanking her around the corner, I pull my phone out of my pocket and find a contact on my screen. I turn it to Mercedes.
“Press the call button,” I state.
She squints at the screen, and her eyes fly wide. “Are you insane?” she exclaims and shoves the phone away. “It’s after midnight, Miles. We are most definitely not calling your grandma!”
I roll my eyes and shrug. “She won’t care. She fucking loves me. I’m her favorite grandchild. Press call. I want to tell her about your dirty books.”
“I will not! I’d never call a sweet old grandmother in the middle of the night and tell her about my smut. Oh shit, I need to take a note. I just thought of a really funny line for one of my books.”
She thrusts her hand through the low-cut neckline of her tank top and pulls her phone out of her bra. I frown down at that image. “How long has that thing been in there?”
“What do you mean?” she snaps. “The whole time. I didn’t fucking magic it into my shirt, you idiot.”
I chuckle at the ease of which she just insulted me. “Fine, we’re calling my sister then. She’ll tell you the truth.” I press send.
“Your sister could be asleep too,” she grumbles while typing a note in her phone, slightly swaying on her feet.
I shake my head at that comment. “She’s taking summer classes at the University of Utah. She’s probably out partying.”
The phone rings a few times and then picks up with loud, riotous noise in the background. “Megan,” I shout into the phone and press my other finger to my ear because I don’t know how I’m going to hear her with all that noise.
Mercedes giggles and presses a finger to my lips to shush me. I bite playfully at her finger and mouth, “Sorry.”
“Miles,” Megan shouts back into the line.
“Megan,” I repeat a bit softer this time. “Can you go somewhere quiet for a second? I want to ask you a question really quick.”
It sounds like she’s on the move because already I can hear her a little bit better. “Miles, how is it possible for you to cock block me from five hundred miles away?”
“Big brother intuition,” I state and stand straight. “Who is the fucker anyway?”
“Miles,” she chastises, and then the sound softens as she moves into what I believe to be a bathroom because I hear a toilet flush in the distance. “Shut up and ask your question.”
I look at Mercedes and give her the quiet finger as I click the speaker button on my phone screen so she can hear what Megan’s saying. “So Meg, I met this girl tonight. She’s super fucking hot, like suuuper hot.”
“Gross, Miles!” Megan groans.
Mercedes rolls her eyes.
“Okay, so this chick writes sexy books. Like that’s her job. Kinky, dirty shit, I think. And she was saying grandmothers hated her, and I told her our grandma would be totally into it…true or false?”
“Duh, Grams is a freak, so that’s totally true.”
I thrust my fist into the air and laugh heartily as Mercedes’s mouth drops open in pleased surprise.
“Mom would be into those books too, don’t you think?” I ask and smile even wider when Mercedes cups her hands over her cheeks, listening in rapture.
“Dude, Miles, of course, she would. You should get her name so Mom can look her up. Hell, Dad would probably read her stuff too. Don’t you remember when I was ten and found those porno books in Mom and Dad’s bathroom? I had to ask you what milk jugs were, and you flipped out and turned all red?”
I laugh so hard I have to brace myself on the brick wall. “Oh shit, I had forgotten all about that!”
“Yeah, our parents are hornballs, bro. You know this, why are you asking?”
“Because this chick wouldn’t believe me.”
“Well, give her the name of Mom’s book blog website.”
“Oh yeah, what’s it called again? I forget.”
“Dirty Birdy’s Book Blog. She even passes out business cards at church. She’s so embarrassing.”
I can’t wipe the satisfied smile off my face as I stare into the phone. “You read the books too, I thought, right?”
“Oh God, yes. Mom’s the one who got me hooked. It’s totally weird when she pushes her blog shit in everyone’s faces. Like God, Mom, try not to be so desperate.”
“Agreed,” I reply and look up at Mercedes. My smile falls when her wide eyes are glossy in the dim lighting. Is she upset?
“So who is this girl? I want to read her,” Meg asks.
A tear slips down Mercedes’s face, so I know I need to get off the phone pronto. “I’ll find out, but I gotta go, Meg. Don’t fuck that dude tonight or I’ll kill him.”
“You don’t even know who it is.”
“It’s probably one of my friends.”
A sharp intake of air breaks through the phone line. “How could you possibly—”
I hang up, my mind completely wrapped up in the tears running down Mercedes’s cheeks. “What happened? What did I say? Was it something my sister said? I wasn’t trying to offend. I swear I’m not judging you. I was just—”
I can’t talk anymore.
I can’t defend myself.
I can’t say another damn word.
Because her lips are on mine, and they taste like fucking cherries.
You know that moment in a love story when two enemies are arguing and fighting and screaming and thrashing and so fucking mad at each other that they can’t see straight?
Then suddenly, there’s this bolt of lightning, and they crash together like two fucking cars colliding head-on at a hundred miles an hour?
That’s me right now as I press my lips to Miles perfect mouth.
I don’t even know that much about him, but I have to kiss him. It’s a knee-jerk, instinctual thing that tells me this guy is worth kissing. I have to shut him up and kiss the person that has been talking nonstop to his sister for the past five minutes.
With one simple phone call, this hot mechanic has squashed every thread of doubt I have been lying to myself about not having. I joke about writing at a tire shop. I call myself a porn writer and let’s face it, I kind of am.