Wait With Me (Wait With Me, #1)

by Amy Daws

“Book boyfriend,” she repeats. “The leading male in a romance novel that readers claim ownership of because he doesn’t likely exist in the real world. Basically, the ideal man.”

“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.”

“I just stuffed my face with a breadstick like some sort of prepubescent child on the run from fat camp.” “Then sign me up for fat camp,” he replies and takes another swig.

Well, for the next week at Tire Depot, I’m the creeper, Squints, and Miles is Wendy frickin’ Peffercorn.

Sex appeal wasn’t created in a gym with weights and treadmills. No, it was born in powerful, grungy garages where men, real fucking men worked with their hands. Where they got so dirty, they had to use a special manly soap to clean themselves up. You can’t find that shit at Bath & Body. Pure fucking testosterone.

I suddenly realize we’re not alone and quickly force myself to stop petting the hot mechanic.

One time, I had to bite my fist to stop myself from laughing out loud when she dreamily closed her eyes, licked her lips seductively, and air-kissed the room. She totally writes dirty books.

But deep down, I know I’m more. I’m a creator of stories. Stories that have a plot and an arc and a journey. Yes, they experiment in BDSM. Yes, they do anal. And yes, you will probably get horny when you read them, but they still mean something to me. I’m still proud of them when I type The End. And I love the fact that I have readers who get to escape their regular lives for a while and pretend that they’re someone else. I give them book boyfriends like Miles.

Miles runs a hand through his hair, causing his shock of black locks to stick out all over. “I’m sorry. I…don’t know what to say.” I sigh and take mercy on him. “There really is nothing else to say. I’ll just…I’ll see you around, Miles.” I turn and stride away, humiliated by the fact I was just rejected by my real-life book boyfriend.

I let my book boyfriend walk away, keeping him safe right where he belongs, in fiction.

What is going to be on the other end of this hook? It feels massive and heavy, and it’s bending my pole way too much. That can’t be good. How strong are these poles? What kinds of fish live in this lake? Not sharks, of course, I’m not that stupid. But what if I’m going to reel in some disgusting swamp creature that’s like a beaver and a bass that fucked during a full moon and created some kind of terrifying swamp thing that eats people like piranha. Oh my God, are there piranha in Colorado? I should have googled!

You know that point in a romance novel where the girl bares her heart to the guy, and he tells her that he’s loved her since the first moment he laid eyes on her? That’s not how my story with Miles went.

In fact, my story with Miles went from an epic love story to a tragic women’s fiction. Because what do you call a love story with no happy ending? Fucking pathetic, that’s what.

“You write this shit, now you need to live it. You need to make a grand gesture that shows your hero you care in a deeply personal way that makes it clear that while you know you fucked up royally, you still know him. You know him and care about him, and the grandness of this gesture will prove that.”

“In erotica, the grand gestures are usually like a power flip. Like, oh, okay, I’ll let you put a horsetail butt plug in me just this once.”

I snorted SO LOUD at this! 🤣

“Think more romantic, less farm animal.”

“I don’t want a get out of jail free card,” I cry back. “The longer we spent on that hot highway trying to figure out what was wrong with my car, the more ridiculous this plan became in my head. I don’t want to buy Miles’s affection back. I want him to want me for me. Flaws and all.”

Lynsey’s voice pipes up from behind. “That sounds like the worst ending to a book I’ve ever heard.” “This isn’t a book!” I shriek. “This is my life, and it’s no wonder this plan has turned into such a mess. It has desperation stamped all over it. I just want to go home, eat some pizza, and cry a little, okay?”

“You know Miles paid my uncle for every week you were here using the comfort center, right?”

*swooooon*

My eyes go wide. “I thought I was flying under the radar.” Sam laughs. “Everybody saw you walking in and out of the employee entrance, Kate. You know you’re not invisible, right?”

I need to talk to her. I need to make sure that what we had was real. I also need to tell her that I don’t want casual anymore either. I want her. Only her.

She looks perfect.

I can see the brilliant blue of her eyes and the light sheen of sweat all over her body. She’s stunning.

Because suddenly, with one intense look, I’m transported back to that night when there was a storm overhead and I crashed into her like I was the thunder to her lightning. Everything around us disappeared.

My eyes soften with emotion as I take in the sincerity on her face. I should have never doubted her. I should have never put her in the same category as anyone else. Kate Smith is in a league all her own.

“I fucking missed you, Kate.”

I grind up into her deeper and growl, “Kate,” one more time. It’s a claiming. An ownership of her name in my mouth. And it feels right. “Kate,” I state again huskily, licking a trail up her neck to her ear.

“But none of that book boyfriend bullshit. I’m as real as they come, and I’ll put all your fictional studs to shame, you got that?” She bites her lip and runs her fingertips down my face. “You already have.”

Miles’s bright blue eyes flash up to connect with mine. His body even more tense than it was before. “What did you just say?” My heart is in my throat, but I know there’s no going back now. “I’m in love with you, Miles. Like, completely.” His mouth falls open as he expends all the air in his lungs. “Now I need to fuck you again,” he murmurs and moves over on top of me, between my legs, his hardened erection nudging my entrance as he rests his elbows on either side of me and looks straight into my eyes.

Miles Hudson is the sun and the air and the moon and the stars. He’s fucking wonderful, and he loves me. How much more book worthy can it get than that?

“Jesus fuck,” Miles drawls, taking in my short red dress. It was an impulse purchase and way too slutty to wear out in public. But I’m committed to my research this evening.

“First thing I have to say about what I’m thinking right now for your research is that when a girl who you’ve been fucking for months still makes your dick hard just by wearing a cute little dress, it makes it really damn hard for a decent guy to be a gentleman.”

Seriously! How did he get that hard this fast?

He pulls back with a proud smile. “That’s going to leave a mark.” “You jerk,” I husk, pushing him away. My man has an affection for leaving marks on me, and even though I pretend to hate it, I actually frickin’ love it.

My breath inhales sharply at his dirty promise. It sounds perfect. It sounds like he just described heaven, and I’m standing at the pearly gates waiting for entry.