I slam my spoon down on the table. “Are you frickin’ kidding me with this shit?”
“No,” he snaps, his jaw rigid beneath his beard.
“This coming from a high school dropout?”
“I earned my GED, and I’m self-educated.”
“In what? Being a fucking asshat?” I snap and move to stand.
“Sit down, Kate.” He reaches out to grab me.
“I will not!” I rear back and yank my wrist out of his hand. “This is total bullshit, Dean.” I fume, feeling so hurt and upset by his snap judgment of Miles. A man he doesn’t even know. It reminds me of the look I get from people who don’t support what I do for a living or who think I’m only one thing. Miles is so much more than what Dean is giving him credit for, and if he can’t see that, I don’t want to be around him.
I pin Dean with a serious glower and say, “I surround myself with people who are inclusive and nonjudgmental because I have a weird job. I write frickin’ erotic novels for a living, and I don’t want judgy friends in my corner because that makes me a hypocrite to the characters I write about. And Miles is so encouraging about what I do. More encouraging than you’ve ever been, and that counts for a lot in my book! And he’s not dumb at all. He’s actually really fucking insightful, and you might know that if you’d quit looking down your nose at people.”
Dean’s face turns beet red, panic setting in over his features as I move to walk away. “Don’t leave, Kate.” He stands up and pulls me back to him.
“No,” I exclaim, pulling out of his arms. “I’m sorry, but if you’re going to start acting like this, then I don’t see how we can continue our friendship.”
“Kate!” he repeats my name so urgently I pause to look at him. His eyes are wide and more terrified than I’ve ever seen them, a sort of panic taking over his entire body when he finally stutters out, “I like you.”
I shrug. “Well, I thought I liked you too until you turned into a douche-nozzle.”
“No, I mean, I really like you.” He closes his eyes and slides his hands into the pockets of his trousers, resignation all over his posture.
But for some reason, his words still don’t fully sink in. My angry expression morphs into disbelief. “Like you really like me like a best friend or you…？”
He pins me with a severe look and replies, “I like you as more than a best friend, and it’s not something I can ignore anymore.”
“Dean,” I say with a sigh, my stomach dropping like I’m on a damn roller coaster. “How long?”
“A couple of years?” he grinds through clenched teeth, drops back down into the booth, and runs a hand through his beard nervously. “But I was with Lynsey, and you were with that douchebag, Dryston.”
I slide back into the booth, and my jaw dropped when I reply, “You never said a word.”
“I was waiting for the right time.” He shrugs.
“But Dryston and I have been broken up for months now.”
“But he still lives with you!” he replies, leaning across the table with wide, urgent eyes. “And you were together for two years, Kate. You needed time to get over that shit. I wasn’t going to be the rebound guy. I wanted more than that. Then this fucking mechanic comes out of nowhere, and suddenly, you’re casual Kate. Wait, no…casual Mercedes.”
I lean back, my teeth grinding at him throwing that in my face. “You know why I told him my name was Mercedes.”
“I know it’s ridiculous to be spending time with a guy who doesn’t know the real you.”
“He does know the real me!” I argue. “He knows more about me than Dryston ever learned in our two years together.”
“But you’re hooking up with a guy who still doesn’t know your real name. How do you think that’s going to end, Kate?”
“I don’t know. We’re casual now, but maybe we could be more.”
“See! That’s what kills me. I thought Miles was just a rebound guy, but you’re trying to force him to be more, and I’m right fucking here trying to offer you more! This guy doesn’t even know your real name, and you’re shocked by my hope? Come off your high horse, Kate.”
“What high horse?”
“You’re so blind and self-involved. You should have seen this coming.”
My jaw drops. “Excuse me?”
“It’s true. When you’re in the book world, you ignore everything and everyone around you.”
“It’s my job, Dean!” I exclaim. “I can’t help it. It’s not a freaking switch I can click off.”
He exhales heavily through his nose. “You honestly didn’t see the signs?”
I close my eyes tight and cycle back through our friendship. Dean is a flirt. He’s always been a flirt. He gets handsy, and he tosses my flip-flop out doors, and he gives me a lot of crap…a lot more than he gives Lynsey. He’s like a kid on the playground who pulls a girl’s pigtails because he likes her.
That realization hits me like a ton of bricks.
I look up at Dean who looks so defeated, it breaks my heart. But I have to be honest with him. “I like Miles,” I state with a simple shrug.
“But he only wants casual,” Dean retorts, leaning toward me and grabbing my hand. “I want so much more with you, Kate. I’d want it all. The good and the bad. You said Miles doesn’t want drama. I’ll take all your drama because I care about you.”
His words are killing me. Slowly slicing through me like tiny little pinpricks of anxiety because regardless of Dean’s willingness to commit, I don’t see him that way. I pull my hand out of his and reply, “I’m sorry, Dean.”
He pulls back and exhales heavily with a tight nod.
“I still want to be friends,” I add, but he cuts me off with a scathing look.
“I need you to go,” he states, his jaw tight with anger.
“Dean—”
“I’m not kidding, Kate. This went worse than I could have ever imagined, and I need you to go before you ruin this bakery for me. We all have our own little places we vibe at, and this is my Tire Depot. So please, can you just leave?”
Seeing the resigned look on his face that I cannot ignore, I grab my satchel off the bench before sliding out of the booth. “I’m sorry, Dean.”
He nods woodenly, and without another word, I turn and walk out, leaving Dean behind to wait with our numbers.
“Hey!” Miles exclaims, his eyes wide and surprised as I stride around the hood of some sort of vintage blue truck he’s elbows deep in.
He hits me with a megawatt smile, and I have to pause to stabilize myself on the toolbox beside me. Miles isn’t dressed in his standard Tire Depot coveralls. He’s dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a white tank top that looks about one size too small for his enormous pecs.
“I was just heading toward the comfort center, and I figured I’d stop and say hello since the garage door was wide open.”
He sets down some sort of complicated-looking car thing and pulls the bottom of his tank top up to wipe the sweat from his brow. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, even his abs have dirt and oil on them.