My head drops back onto the chair. This can’t be the end of the road. I’m not done with my book yet! I glance down at the lukewarm pizza under my chair. “Would leftover pizza keep you quiet?”
He purses those beautiful lips and looks down at my stash of barely touched food. “It might buy you some time.”
I smile excitedly and nearly leap off my chair to grab the goods. “Great, time is all I need.” I thrust the boxes into his chest, and he clutches them with a laugh.
“You’re serious,” he states with an incredulous look, his blue eyes flicking over every single feature of my overeager face as I plop back down on my chair.
“Super serious,” I reply, my eyes pleading.
He takes me in for a second, and I halfway regret only putting on mascara this morning. “Very well, Mercedes. I’ll leave you be, for now.”
He stands up to his full height, and I can’t help but notice the bulge in his jeans because it’s literally eye level with me. Not like a boner bulge, the kind of bulge that a man who’s well-endowed walks around with on an everyday basis. With those big hands and giant feet, it’s no wonder.
“See you around the water cooler, Miles,” I state brazenly as I tuck my earbuds back into my ears.
He looks at me with curiosity, but thankfully takes his pizza bribe and walks away. I use the opportunity to admire his backside and am not disappointed. The things I do for research purposes.
“You haven’t noticed a hot redhead in the comfort center, have you?” I ask my co-worker Sam, who’s seated next to me at our favorite downtown spot, The Pearl Street Pub.
“Nope. Never seen her. She was there today?” he asks, stroking his ginger-tinged beard.
“Yes,” I reply around a sip of my IPA. “And yesterday.”
“What was she doing?”
I shrug. “She was just on a computer.”
“What’s the problem then?”
“I don’t think she had a car getting work done at the shop.”
“So she’s syphoning free Wi-Fi? Call the cops, we’ve got a mooch on our hands,” he says sarcastically and gestures to the bartender for another round.
I shake my head in defense. “I don’t get a mooch vibe from her. It mostly feels like…desperation?”
Sam leans back and shakes his head. “Now it all makes sense. You have a fetish for desperate girls, bro.”
“I do not.”
“Yes, you do. You like to save them. Be the gallant protector, sweep in and guard them.”
“This girl drives a big ole Caddy. She does not need saving.”
“So she’s nothing like Jocelyn?” he asks, his eyes narrowing seriously on me.
“Dude, I’m done with Joce. Can we please stop talking about her?”
“Miles, you got dumped by your longtime sweetheart for a rich, ugly prick. That shit sticks with you forever.”
I growl and take a drink of my beer, trying hard not to squeeze the pilsner glass until it breaks in my grip. Jocelyn Vanbeek has wasted too much of my life already. Most twenty-something guys are sleeping with as many girls as they can while I spent the best years of my life obsessing over one girl. I was in a constant state of on-again, off-again hell with her for nearly a decade.
Now I’m thirty years old, and I’ve finally put that drama behind me. Never mind the fact that she’s married and a mother now.
I take a moody sip of my beer and turn in my barstool to take in the handful of female prospects for this evening. “God, I hate that Boulder is such a sausage fest. Why do we live here again?”
“Uh, cuz my uncle is the manager, and no other boss would put up with our shit.”
I smile and point out a hot brunette in the corner. “And maybe that?”
Sam shakes his head. “Making up for lost time—I get it. You do you, bro.” He claps me on the back, and I proceed to make my move.
The next day, like some sort of stalker, I have my eyes glued to the window that overlooks the alley behind the garage. I’m on tire changes all day, which is nice in a way because it’s mindless work. It’s a little time consuming, though, because I have to clean out the wheel wells and readjust the alignment, but I’m not complaining. It makes it easy for me to keep an eye out for Mercedes sneaking around.
It’s nearing the end of the day, and I’m beginning to annoy myself with how often I’ve looked out that damn window. Instead of cleaning up my station for tomorrow, I decide to clock out early, clean myself up, and brave the quiet Customer Comfort Center for a little coffee before I head out.
Coverall-free and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, I walk into the empty waiting area and can’t help but smile when the only soul in sight is a redhead standing in front of the coffee machine. The shop is due to close in fifteen minutes, but she’s still hitting the caffeine like a boss.
Her back is turned to me as she waits for the machine to dispense her drink, so I take the opportunity to ogle the revealing cut of her denim shorts. They are frayed at the ends, true-blue Daisy Dukes that show off the muscular lines of her legs. A sliver of creamy skin peeks out beneath her gray tee when she reaches for a napkin, and I can’t help but drool a little at the perfect curve of her waistline.
The brunette at the pub last night had a boyfriend, so I may be extra eager to figure out the redhead’s story today. I raise my shoulders and stride over toward Mercedes with purpose. Our arms brush as I move to stand beside her and casually reach into the bakery case for a cookie.
Her head turns, and I look over to shoot her a smile. She stares down at my body first and then slowly moves her gaze up to my face.
I hit her with a wink and puzzle over the fact that she looks kind of pale. “Hey there, Red.”
She looks like she’s going to reply when suddenly, her face falls, and her eyes roll to the back of her head. She begins swaying, and with a cursed expletive, I fall to my knees and catch her right before her head hits the ground.
“Mercedes!” I exclaim, adjusting her head in my lap and pushing the strands of red hair away from her face. “Mercedes, are you okay?”
Her eyes blink rapidly, a little unfocused, then open. She looks first at the ceiling then over to me. “Miles, was it?”
I have to laugh a little at how normal she sounds. “Yeah, Miles.”
“What’s going on?” she asks, her vision becoming more focused with every passing second.
“I think maybe you fainted. Have you ever fainted before?”
She groans and brings her hand to her face to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Only when I don’t eat.”
“You haven’t eaten today?” I ask, shaking my head at her and glancing at the full rack of cookies next to the coffee machine. “How long have you been here?”
“Only since nine.”
“Jesus Christ,” I nearly growl. “Why didn’t you eat a cookie at least?”
“I don’t like to eat all the cookies,” she nearly whines, still clearly a bit foggy from her spell. “Betty works so hard on them. It’s bad enough I drink so much coffee.” Her chin wobbles, and my jaw drops when I see tears filling her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I ask and try not to laugh as I brush away a wet tear path on her cheek. She looks so fucking cute, I think I might be in love.
“I just…I feel bad for Betty. No one ever tells her how good those cookies are. I got here early to try her danishes, and they were already gone. How crazy is that? Betty has to get up so early to make those fresh every day, and people gobble them up in seconds. I wonder if anyone appreciates her in her life? Do you know if she’s married?”
My abs vibrate as I bite my lip and try to stifle back the laugh bubbling inside me. I don’t know how much coffee she’s had today, but I’m certain it was way too much. “Betty gets a hug from me every time I see her. She knows the guys in the shop love her baked goods.”
“Really?” Mercedes croaks, her eyes filling with hope.
“Really.”
“That’s really sweet.” Her chin does that trembling thing again. “I’m sorry, I get emotional when I’m hungry. You know how some people get hangry? Hungry and angry? I get emongry. Emotional and hungry. It’s a thing. I got them to enter it in Urban Dictionary.”