“You, too,” I say before she hops off her barstool, gives Mikey a side hug, then walks out with her phone pressed to her ear.
I open my mouth to say something—anything—butmyphone rings. “I’m sorry.” I wince, pulling it out of my pocket. “This is Saint,” I answer, shooting an apologetic smile Mikey’s way.
“Hey, Saint, it’s Patrick at Merv’s. Your van’s all done.”
No, damn it. I need more time.
“Great. I’ll uh, I’ll come pick it up right away.”
“Cool. See you soon.”
Patrick hangs up, and I glance over just as Mikey tips her head all the way back and swallows the rest of the liquid in her glass. Her face twists into a disgusted expression, and I’d laugh if I weren’t upset about having to part ways.
“Your van’s ready?” she asks, pointing to my phone.
“Yep.” Now would be my opportunity to ask her out. I don’t want our time together to end. I don’t want to keep having twenty-minute snippets of time with her.
I want to have hours. Days. Weeks.
I wantmore.
I want to hear about her dad and Kelly. I want to know if Kelly is her mom or her step-mom or what role she has in Mikey’s life. I want to ask what her favorite childhood memories are. I want to ask her what she likes to do for fun, what her favorite foods are.
“I can walk you over, if you’d like,” Mikey offers.
“I’m sure you have better things to do,” I protest, even though hope flutters in my chest.
“This was my only plan for the day. I take the day off because Merv and Kelly gang up and force me to. They say it’s good to have a day to sit with my feelings and think about my dad.”
“Well, I won’t say no to your company, even if it’s only for a short walk.”
“Let me pay my tab and?—”
“No, please. Let me.” I motion for the bartender and hand him my card before she can argue with me. “We’ll call it a birthday present for your dad.”
Mikey’s face softens, and she blesses me with a shy smile. “Thank you, Saint. That’s really kind of you.”
“Don’t mention it.” When I get my card back, Mikey stands and slips on a black leather jacket that was hanging on the back of her stool. It’s the first time I’m noticing what she’s wearing, and goodlord,she looks good.
She’s wearing a white shirt made of some kind of material that clings to every dip and curve on her body, tucked into a pair of high waisted light wash jeans. They have rips along the thigh, and I try not to stare too long at the creamy expanse of skin peeking through. Her feet are covered by black combat boots with red roses printed on them. With her cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol and her hair spilling over her shoulders, she looks like she stepped off the cover of a magazine.
Girl of my fucking dreams.
I have to bite back a whimper when she walks out in front of me and I witness the way her jeans hug her peach shaped ass. The last thing she needs is me ogling her like a horndog on her dad’s birthday, but it’s impossible for me not to notice how fucking pretty she is.
When we get outside, we walk silently side by side to Merv’s. Halfway there, she glances up at me. “So what brought you over the mountain this time?”
“Had to bring you some of that bread you love so much,” I tease.
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, ha ha. What’s the real reason?” She nudges me with her elbow, and I have to stop myself from wrapping my arm around her shoulder and pulling her into my side.
“I had to pick up a turkey for Thanksgiving.” Not technically a lie, but I didn’t have to come all the way down here. “I like to buy it from a local farmer.”
“Ooo, fancy. Do you have a big celebration for the holiday?”
I nod. “Me, Ruby, my best friend, his sister, and whoever else needs somewhere to go gather at the café.”
“That sounds cozy and fun.”
