by Daws, Amy
Mercedes waggles her brows at me and turns to watch the last few inches of sun dip down behind a faraway hill.
But I can’t seem to take my eyes off her. Her hair is kind of like a sunset.
She feels me watching. “You’re missing something really beautiful,” she sings teasingly.
My voice is serious when I reply. “No, I’m not.”
Her smile fades, and she looks over at me with wide, wondering eyes. The soft pink sky lights up her face, giving her this angelic glow. She’s enchanting.
Her voice is a whisper when she croaks, “I can’t figure you out, Miles.”
I swallow slowly and reach out to cup her cheek, running my thumb from her cheekbone to her lip, lazily tracing the lines of her mouth. “I can’t figure me out either.”
She inhales deeply when I lean in to taste the lips that I’ve been reliving the taste of all week, but suddenly a motorcycle engine growls loudly up behind us. I freeze mere inches away from her mouth, my hand still on her face, my eyes still trained on her lips.
Swallowing hard, I turn around to see another couple dismounting from their bike, probably up here for the same reason we are.
Clearing my throat, I pull back and offer a sheepish smile to Mercedes. “Should we head back before we lose all the light?”
She looks forlorn and replies, “I’m at your mercy.”
I help her up and get her kitted up and back on the bike behind me.
Away we go, back to Boulder and back to the life I’m currently living…with no drama.
When the day comes for me to write my epilogue, it’s almost as if Miles knows because, in the middle of the day, he strides into the CCC dressed in his greasy coveralls that he has knotted down around his waist. The white T-shirt underneath is damp with sweat, and his hands look washed, but dirtier than I’ve ever seen them. Almost like he didn’t bother to give himself a full scrub because he knew he was going back to work.
He grabs three cookies and strides over to me with a giant smile on his face. As if it’s a normal day, and he takes breaks in the CCC all the time, he props himself on the stool across from the high top table I’m perched at and takes a big bite of his triple stack cookie sandwich.
I can’t help but smile at the serendipity of this moment.
“Why are you smiling?” he asks, smiling back at me.
Seriously, so much smiling.
“Because life is funny sometimes.” I tilt my head and narrow my eyes at him, drinking in all his manly glory.
“How so?” Miles leans across the table toward me, his black hair in need of a trim and his blue eyes bright amongst the dirt on his face.
Without a word, I turn my computer to face him and stand so I’m positioned beside him. When I lean down to press my fingers on the keyboard, our arms graze and a tingle of electricity sparks between us.
Steeling myself to be cool, I type out The End.
“No way,” he exclaims loudly, clearly not giving a shit about the other customers in the waiting area. He turns wide, excited eyes to me. “You just finished?”
“I just finished.” I smile and yelp when he drops his cookies, stands, and lifts me into the air, twirling me in a circle. He freezes when he remembers we’re not alone and quickly sets me back down on my feet.
He leans in and whispers loudly, “Congratulations, Mercedes.”
And I thank him, because right now, I am Mercedes Lee Loveletter, and I’ve completed my fifth and final book in the series. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Miles,” I reply with a humorous bounce to my voice.
His chest vibrates with laughter. “We should celebrate. Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, and his brow furrows when he sees the humor leave my face.
He said those same words to me the night I kissed him, and the coincidence isn’t lost on me. “Maybe another time.”
He nods and stuffs his hands into his pockets, a bemused look on his face that’s majorly killing my buzz.
“But hey, we’re having a party Friday night at my house. My two friends at the pub from the other night and some people we still hang out with from college…you…want to come by? You can bring Sam!”
His lopsided smile is genuine, and we quickly exchange numbers so I can text him my address. It surprises me that for as many times as I’ve seen Miles now, we still haven’t swapped numbers. I guess maybe that was his way of keeping me at a distance.
Miles stuffs his phone back into his pocket and asks, “So what are you going to do tonight then?”
My face heats with embarrassment, but I decide to own it anyway. “Well, I have this tradition that I used to do with my ex after every book I finished.”
“Your ex?” he snaps, clearly confused at my mention of him.
“Yeah, we would…wear these onesie pajamas, order pizza, and read only the five-star reviews from my last book all while consuming an entire box of wine.” I laugh awkwardly and marvel at the fact that it was the only truly original thing I ever did with Dryston. He probably only liked it because he had a dragon onesie, and the dude was kind of obsessed with dragons.
Miles nods, his brows still puzzling. “So you’re hanging with your ex?”
“Oh, God no!” I exclaim and swat his hard chest playfully. “No way, I’ll probably just do it with Lynsey. Or Dean, most likely.”
This doesn’t seem to relax his stiff posture in the slightest. With a gruff voice, he replies, “You should find a new tradition.”
My jaw drops. “Why do you say that?”
“Because it started with someone who didn’t support what you do.” Miles’s jaw muscle ticks angrily, and I swear he grows even taller before me. “Why would you want to perpetuate his memory like that?”
“It’s not his memory, it’s just something I started when I was with him. I’ve done it for every one of my books, and it feels like bad luck not to continue it.”
He shakes his head, disappointment all over his face.
“Miles!” I scold and look around the room to see a couple of people staring at us. “Chill out. What’s your problem? This is supposed to be a happy day.”
He takes a step back, and that mask I’ve seen on his face before returns with a vengeance. “Sorry, I don’t mean to rain on your parade.” Miles moves to leave but pauses to press a swift kiss to my temple. “I’m really proud of you, Mercedes.”
I reach out and grab his hand, stopping his departure. “Are you okay?”
He nods. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you’re acting weird. As if I’ve…disappointed you or something.”
His face softens at that. “You could never disappoint me, babe. I think you’re incredible.”
His use of the word ‘babe’ has my heart leaping up into my throat. Being the idiot I am, I laugh awkwardly and reply, “Yeah, I’m so incredible that I had to sneak into a tire shop day in and day out to finish a book I couldn’t find the courage to write because I was too wrapped up in my ex.”
Miles dips his head, bringing us eye to eye, and pins me with a serious look. “This isn’t about your ex. This is about you finding something that worked for you. You went after it, balls to the wall, and did what you had to do to get the job done. You don’t care what anyone thinks, and that’s really fucking cool, so don’t go doubting yourself now.”
His words stun me into a rare moment of silence. But he’s wrong about one thing.
I care what you think.
Instead of oversharing that fun little nugget, I decide to shoot Miles a winning smile. “I had to stick with the vibe, so thanks for waiting with me.”
He offers me a soft smile. “Anytime.”
I reach down to close my laptop and slip it into my bag. “Will I see you Friday then?”
He nods. “You’ll see me Friday.” He looks like he wants to say more but grips the back of his neck and steps back. “Have a good night, Mercedes.”
And without some gallant, final grand gesture, I let my book boyfriend walk away, keepi
ng him safe right where he belongs, in fiction.
“We’re almost thirty years old. We’re too old for kegs!” I groan as Dean rolls the huge silver monstrosity across my fancy plank wood flooring.
Dean sighs heavily and adjusts his glasses. “This isn’t fucking domestic beer, Kate. This is IPA from my favorite local brewer. They don’t sell this shit to just anyone.”
“Yeah, cuz no one likes it,” I mumble and kick the floor because damn it, what’s wrong with Coors Light? It was good enough for us in college, and it should be good enough for us now.
But Dean didn’t go to college with Lynsey and me. He self-educated himself on all things fancy. And ostentatious. Like IPA beer apparently.
He shakes his head and rubs the side of my arm. “You’ll like it, I promise. Just give it a chance.”
Resuming his station, his polka-dot button-down stretches around his biceps when he lifts the keg and places it inside the garbage bag-lined wooden barrel he brought over earlier. He goes back to the front door and grabs the giant bags of ice he left on the front step and proceeds to pour them around the keg.
Lysney comes striding through my back door. “The tiki bar is ready!” she exclaims with a swivel of her hips.
I have to stifle my laugh because she had to roll that thing all the way through her house and my house in order to get it to my back patio.
Even though we’re neighbors, there’s a giant privacy fence that separates our properties. When I first moved in, we got really drunk and tried to prop a ladder on either side of the fence so that we could flow freely between the two properties.
It did not end well.
Dryston ended up having to carry me up the stairs to bed because I hobbled into the house in pursuit of more vodka. But I lived to tell the tale so, silver lining.
“I also strung up my Edison bulbs back there,” Lynsey adds with eager eyes. “It’s great mood lighting. Perfect for meaningful conversation.”
“Or random hookups,” Dean adds, waggling his brows at me. “I invited some people from my co-working space, so there’ll be some fresh faces for you to maul in an alley, Kate.”
“Shut up, dick.” I kick my flip-flop at him, and he tosses it out the back door without even looking.
“Also”—I rub my hand over my forehead—“don’t forget to call me Mercedes tonight, remember?”
Lynsey rolls her eyes.
“I mean it. It’s the theme of the party since we’re celebrating my typing ‘The End’ as Mercedes. In my text, I told everyone coming that anyone who calls me Kate has to do a keg stand.”
“What?” Dean gasps, horrified. “This isn’t fucking cheap college beer, Kate!”
“Mercedes!” I correct. “And I’m banking on everyone hating that beer and no one wanting that horrific torture.”
“You get used to the hops!” he cries like a huge fucking sissy.
“If by hops, you mean poison, then I’ll pass,” I reply and do a final check on the appetizers spread out on the counter.
Lynsey sidles up next to me as I stir the meatballs in the slow cooker. “Are you going to take my advice then?” she asks, her voice quiet, but Dean’s comment of, “What advice?” means it definitely wasn’t quiet enough.
“No,” I groan and begin pointlessly readjusting the charcuterie platter.
Lynsey exhales heavily. “I told Ka—Mercedes that she should try to make Miles jealous tonight because it works. Tells her it works, Dean.”
Dean stops monkeying with the ice and hits me with a look. “It works.”
I frown, knowing that after what he shared with me out at Twin Peak the other day, there’s no way in hell I’d do that to him. “I’m not going to manipulate Miles into liking me.”
“He already likes you,” Lynsey corrects. “He just needs to like you enough to sleep with you.”
“He sounds like a tool, if you ask me,” Dean grumbles.
“He’s not a tool,” I defend. “He’s…I don’t know what he is. Getting over someone maybe? Gah. He only wants casual, and he doesn’t think I can be a casual girl.”
“Can you?” Lynsey asks, her brown eyes curious.
“Fuck yeah!” I exclaim with a little dance I think a casual, cool girl would do. “I write casual sex like it’s my job because it literally is.” I smile lamely at my dumb joke, and my friends are super impressed.
“Screw it, you guys are good down here, right? I’m going to go upstairs and get ready because I am officially going to be late for my own party. Lynsey, start the music and hold down the fort while I go beautify!”
“On it, boss!”
“Dean…guard that shitty beer.”
Forty-five minutes later, I stride down the steps to find my The End party in full swing. I’m dressed in a pair of lacy white shorts and a flowy nude tank with camel wedges. I’ve trussed my red hair up into a side braid down my shoulder, and I’m feeling footloose and fancy-free. I am ready to party.
Several of our old friends have made it out, as well as some new faces who Lynsey knows from grad school. I instantly get sucked into a conversation with a couple of girlfriends from college who all congratulate me on finishing. One calls me Kate, and I drag her into the kitchen to take a shot. Mostly because I think Dean might start crying if someone put their lips on his precious keg tapper.
Dean introduces me to his co-working space friends who won’t shut up about this new bakery down the street from their building. Before I know it, I realize it’s a couple of hours into the party and Miles still isn’t here.
I excuse myself from some friends to go see who’s out back. Maybe Miles has been here this whole time, and I didn’t know it. I do a cursory sweep of the outside in hopes of seeing a tall, dark, and handsome fella but am disappointed just to find Lynsey and all her grad school friends.
She smiles brightly and comes striding out of her tiki bar to pass me a fruity beverage in a tall glass. “Drink it slowly, Mercedes. This shit is strong. I’ve had two, and I think I’m black-out drunk right now.”
“Jesus,” I exclaim, taking a sip and feeling an instant burning in my mouth. “No wonder. I think this might be worse than Dean’s shitty IPA.”
Dean’s growl scares me from behind. “It’s not shitty.” Without warning, he dives straight for my legs, and I just barely hand my drink off to Lynsey before he tosses me over his shoulder. “Mercedes is doing a keg stand, everyone!”
Our friends all whoop with cheers, and I bellow over their voices. “Mercedes is not doing a keg stand because Mercedes likes Coors Light and complimentary coffee…and writing sex books!”
I hear cheers from both inside and outside, and because I’m feeling no pain, I decide to keep going. “And hard and fast wall sex!”
They all laugh and cheer out some more. This is fun! I have my own personal cheering track, so I continue, “And Mercedes likes a formal scene where the guy takes off a girl’s panties and fingers them in his tuxedo pocket all night long!”
I’m met with crickets…until finally, Lynsey chirps, “That was really specific but, yay!”
Everyone joins in, but it feels obligatory and far less enthusiastic than before, so I give it one last go to save face. “And I really love to write about anal play!”
The crowd cracks up laughing even more, but more wonderful cheering follows. I can even feel Dean’s shoulders shaking as he laughs and smacks my ass before dropping me back down to my feet.
When I turn around and right myself, I feel a head rush and try to focus my eyes on what’s in front of me. I’m staring into the very broad chest of a very large man in a super-hot black leather jacket. I lift my chin and practically swoon when I see it’s Miles. And he has a button-down on under his coat.
“Miles!” I exclaim and wrap my arms around his rock-hard body, still feeling euphoric from my version of a crowd surf I did a moment ago.
Dean clears his throat beside me and murmurs, “I’m going to head inside for a drink.”
I pull back to wave
hello to Sam, who looks a bit uncomfortable next to Miles until he finally says, “I’m going to follow that guy.”
Lynsey sidles up next to me in the same breath, not the least bit intimidated by Miles’s statuesque posture. She thrusts her hand out and says, “Hi, I’m Lynsey, the best friend and neighbor. That’s my tiki bar over there.”
Miles slides his gaze to her and offers a small smile while shaking her hand. “I’m Miles.”
“Nice to meet you. Can I get you a drink? My tiki bar is open!” She waves her hands out proudly.
“I’m good for now, thanks,” Miles replies and looks back down at me. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”
I nod and grab his hand to lead him back inside. A group of Dean’s friends is standing right in front of my bedroom door, so I decide to take him upstairs to where I was getting ready earlier. When we pass by Dean at the keg, I see him cut narrow eyes at Miles. I flash my own daggers at Dean, silently telling him to back the fuck off as we veer left.
I can’t drag Miles up the stairs fast enough.
The light from the Edison bulbs is pouring through the back window into the dark bedroom, so I don’t even bother with the light switch. Miles walks into the room behind me like a dark, thunderous cloud. When I turn around to look at him, I realize this room has never felt so small.
He looks around, noticing men’s shoes on the floor in the open closet. “Do you have a roommate?”
My face heats instantly because this is nowhere near the conversation I want to have right now. Especially after Dean just flounced me around like a bimbo in front of everyone two seconds ago.
“Kind of?” I reply hesitantly.
“So it’s a guy,” Miles states, staring into the closet, then sliding his eyes to me.
There’s no hiding that fact now. “Yes.” I shrug.
He laughs and shakes his head. “It figures.” He presses a hand to his forehead as he paces the room. “It’s not that Dean guy, right? You said he was a neighbor.”
“He is a neighbor. It’s not Dean.”
“Then who is it?”
