You know that saying, rode hard and put away wet? Well, that’s me when I wake up the next morning to birds chirping and the sun shining. The tent is about half as warm as usual because I don’t have a huge hulk of a man sleeping next to me. But I can hear Miles outside, making the noises of breakfast, so obviously he’s not hemorrhaging blood from chewing his arm off or something.
That thought makes me giggle, so I quickly tuck my head under the blanket and bite back a squeal of excitement.
Yesterday was amazing. Last night was even more so. The way Miles looked at me when we closed ourselves inside this tent and away from the storm outside.
We were the motherfucking storm.
We were thunder and lightning, and we created the most beautiful swirl of passion I’ve ever experienced with a man.
Like I’m talking three orgasms.
To top off an already perfect day, we cuddled. We cuddled good. We stayed completely naked and let the delicious skin-on-skin comfort lull us into the best sleep of my life. It felt like I was meant to fit on his chest and his big arm was meant to wrap around me and keep me warm. It was magic.
This camping trip is shaping up even better than I could have hoped for. In fact, I think I might actually like camping!
I mean, sure, Miles still doesn’t know my real name yet. And yes, technically, my ex-boyfriend still lives with me and is coming back eventually, and Miles has made it crystal clear that he has issues with jealousy.
But beyond all of that, he knows what’s important. He knows what I’m passionate about. He knows how I take my coffee and how to tease me. He knows where my G-spot is, that’s for damn sure! Dryston never found that even with explicit directions.
Surely, the whole different first name thing is a minor detail that won’t have much relevance when I do, in fact, tell him. I mean, we’re genuinely connecting, so surely, that’s what’s most important. Not what first name he calls me.
I quickly dress in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, opting to let my air-dried hair run wild. I slip out of the tent and note that Miles has packed up a lot of our stuff already and loaded it into the back end of his pickup.
“Good morning,” I say brightly as he flips a couple of eggs on a portable skillet.
“Morning,” he replies with a shy kind of smile, almost as if he can’t make eye contact with me.
Is he feeling weird about last night? God, if he is, that could be so bad. I need to defuse the situation. I need to be casual Mercedes again, so he doesn’t think I’m like falling in love with him or something.
I walk over to where he’s working on the picnic table and grab his arm tightly. “Whew! It’s not a prosthetic. He didn’t have to chew it off, folks!” I shout to no one in particular.
He shakes his head, and his shyness falls away instantly. “Still very much intact. But I didn’t bring any pancake mix, so don’t read into that, all right?”
I smile and nod, then look around with a big stretch. “You’ve been busy this morning.”
He looks back over his shoulder at his truck. “Yeah, it’s going to be a muddy mess all over today. I figured we may as well leave early.”
I nod and pull my lip into my mouth, feeling a bit of disappointment over that. But since I need to play it cool, I reply, “Well, I’m starving. How can I help?”
A short while later, we’re back in Miles’s truck and on the way back to reality. As silence envelops us inside the cab, I can’t help but wonder where we go from here. Did last night change what we are? He’s sure acting the same. Are we still just friends with benefits? Do I go back to Boulder and start writing at Tire Depot again?
After a painfully quiet car ride, Miles finally pulls up in front of my house. We both jump out and move to the back of his truck where he reaches in and grabs my bag.
I take it from him, and our hands brush together as I say, “Well, thanks for helping me with the research.” I half-smile up at him, his steely blue eyes intense on me.
“Anytime,” he replies, his voice deep and melty.
“You okay?” I ask curiously, shielding the sun from my eyes so I can get a better look at him. “You seem quiet.”
He shakes his head and offers me a lopsided smile. “Just tired.”
“Shouldn’t have gotten the mattress pad.” I give him a playful shove that doesn’t move him an inch.
A shuffling noise from behind has both our eyes swerving toward my front door. My anxiety sparks to life when I see Dean standing on my front step. He adjusts his glasses while watching us carefully. His arms are crossed over his chest. His body is propped up against a support beam.
Miles clears his throat from behind me, and I look back at him as he mumbles, “Looks like you’ve got company. I’ll see you later, Mercedes.”
“Bye,” I reply, wistfully watching his back as he moves to get back into his truck. For a jealous guy, he sure has no problem walking away from me. Though he has no idea that Dean told me he wanted more than friendship only a few days ago.
My life is getting seriously complicated.
With a rumble of his truck, Miles pulls away, and I exhale heavily. Turning on my heel, I walk up to my front door. “Hey, Dean,” I murmur, fishing out my keys and unlocking the deadbolt.
“Hey, Kate.” Dean looks awkward as he scratches his fingers through his beard.
I take pity on him and ask, “Want to come inside for a coffee?”
He smiles. “Is it complimentary?”
I pin him with a look. “For people who aren’t assholes, yes.”
His eyes cast downward. “I won’t be an asshole, I swear.”
“You sure?” I ask, gesturing down the road. “Nothing to say about Miles’s truck? Did you hear how loud that muffler was?”
His brows lift. “I’m surprised you even know what a muffler is.”
I frown at that comment. “Me too, actually. I guess some of my research has been sticking.”
The corner of his mouth tips up into a smile. “I’ll be good, I swear.”
Dean follows me inside, and I drop my bag on the floor and set about making us a couple of coffees. Exhaustion begins to overtake me as well, but I know I need to talk to Dean. I’ve been avoiding his calls and text for the past several days, and I don’t want this to completely ruin our friendship.
He props himself on a barstool and takes the coffee from my hands. “Did you spend the night at Miles’s house last night?” he asks, his eyes staring down at my neck.
I look at him and blink a few times. “Are you really asking that?”
He rolls his eyes and points at a spot on his neck. “You may have a little something…”
My eyes fly wide at the memory of Miles sucking hard on my neck. I move to cover the mark, and Dean quickly says, “I’m not judging, Kate, I’m just making small talk. Work with me here, okay?”
I take a deep breath in and pull my shirt up to try to cover it. “We were camping.”
“Camping?” The disbelief in his voice isn’t lost on me.
“Yes, camping,” I reply, dropping my hand. “It was for book research, and it was really fun.”
Dean shakes his head. “So I take it you’re writing something quite a bit different from your other series?”
I shrug. “I’m trying to.”
He stares down at his drink. “Inspiration must be flowing.”
“It has its moments.” Even if they do involve sneaky little hickeys.
“And Miles is the guy who brings that out in you?” Dean asks, looking up at me. I look closely for a sign of judgment in his expression, but I don’t see anything. It’s a genuine question.
“He’s certainly not hurting things.” I shrug and prop my elbows on the counter, hunching over with my coffee mug between my palms. “He’s not like anyone I’ve ever hung out with before. He’s a salt of the earth kind of guy. So different from Dryston.”
“So different from me,” he adds, a pained look behind his dark-framed glasses.
I pin him with a look. “Dean, look…I never had a clue you had feelings for me. If I had, I would have done so many things differently.”
“Like what?” he asks, his brows pinching together in confusion.
“I don’t know. Maybe come over less often. Acted differently.” I run a hand through my hair and sigh. “I love you as a friend, but I just don’t see us that way, and I’m sorry if I led you to believe otherwise.”
“You weren’t leading me on, Kate. You were being yourself. And that draws people in.” He stares at me through wide, understanding eyes, then adds, “It’s the same reason Miles can’t stay away from you even though he’s told you he doesn’t want a relationship. You’re so…magnetic.”
It’s really weird getting a compliment from a guy you’ve just rejected, but I can tell Dean is trying really hard here to make amends, and I’m so relieved. “Well, Miles is still keeping me firmly in the casual corner, so apparently, I’m not a strong enough magnet.”
Dean thinks on that for a second while taking a sip of his coffee. “I think if you really like Miles, you need to come clean with him. If you guys develop into more and he finds out you’re keeping stuff from him, it’s not going to end well, Kate.”
“I know,” I groan and run my hands through my hair. “I just like who I am with him. I like having no baggage.”
“You still technically live with your ex, Kate. That’s about the worst kind of baggage you can carry. No guy is going to take that information well, and the longer you wait, the harder it will be.”
“Are you sure I can’t keep pretending to be Mercedes? She never would have gone out with dippy Dryston.”
“You’re not pretending to be anyone,” Dean corrects, adjusting his glasses to pin me with a serious look. “You are Mercedes. You are Kate. You need to quit looking at them like they’re two different people because they are both you. You’re the porn writer and the friend. You’re the bestselling author and the neighbor. You don’t have to keep the two sides of yourself separate. Let them merge. Maybe the Kate part of yourself that you’re holding back will be exactly what brings you and Miles together.”
I look over the counter at Dean. My friend. My true friend who I’ve become so comfortable with the past couple of years. He’s sitting here, giving me advice on how to win over a dude that I’m rejecting him for. Whatever asshole tendencies he may have on occasion, he’s still a really frickin’ good person as a whole.
“Thanks, Dean.” I smile softly.
He exhales heavily. “Does this mean we can we go back to being friends again? You’re like one of four people I actually like in Boulder. Losing you would be a huge deficit in my social life.”
“Of course, we’re friends.” I smile and shake my head. “Because there’s no way in hell I’m going to start cleaning my own gutters.”
He laughs and rakes his hands through his hair in frustration. “I’m hoping you can work out this thing with Miles. I’m tired of being Lynsey’s and your damn handyman. Especially because I’m not fucking handy. I’ve told you both this. If you need help with investments, I got you. But pretty soon, I’m going to start drawing the line at favors that make me sweat.”
“Yeah, yeah…whatever, Dean.”
With double smiles, we clink our coffee mugs and get back to being exactly what we were always meant to be. Just friends. Great friends.