Slater hops off his stool and offers his hand to Mikey. “Hey there,sweetheart,I’m this guy’s best friend, Slater. So nice to finally meet the object of Saint’s obsession. I was starting to worry he’d made you up.”
Mikey shakes his hand. “Nope, I uh, I’m real. Nice to meet you, too.”
“Don’t call her ‘sweetheart,’ you asshole,” I grumble, wrapping my arm around Mikey’s waist. She tenses briefly before melting into my side.
Part of me worries Mikey will find Slater more attractive with his lean frame and tattooed biker vibes. Like me, he’s got a beard and long hair, currently pulled into a messy bun, but his is dark brown. He’s wearing a sweatshirt, but underneath is a full sleeve on each arm, and a hint of a tattoo peeks out above the collar on his neck.
After the introduction, my worry vanishes because Mikey doesn’t spare Slater a second glance. Instead, she gives Ruby another smile.
“Hi, Mikey! Do you want some coffee?” Ruby asks, motioning to the pot.
“You didn’t offer me coffee when I got here,” Slater scoffs.
“That’s because I don’t like you,” Ruby sasses back.
“You seemed to like me just fine when I had my—uh, tools fixing your godforsaken VW for the third time in eighteen months.”
Ruby’s eyes flash with defiance, and I can tell whatever she wants to say will be scathing, but Mikey speaks before she can.
“Wait, you’re a mechanic?”
Ruby’s mouth clamps shut, and Slater’s eyes meet mine, full of panic and apology.
Fuck me.
“Uh, yep. Yeah. I own Lovestruck Motors here in town. Saint didn’t tell you?” Because I’ve known him forever, I see the glimmer of humor in his eyes. Fuck this asshole for finding this funny.
My whole cover is about to be blown, and Mikey’s going to bolt out of here so fast all I’ll be left with is the ghost of her touch.
“Why would he tell her? It’s not like you would have been any help when he broke down in Salem,” Ruby interjects.
“I could have towed your van back here so he could work on it, then you wouldn’t have had to come all the way back to Salem.” Mikey sounds skeptical and rightfully so.
“How would he find another excuse to see you again if you did?” Slater teases.
Mikey’s face flushes at the implication, and I can barely hold myself back from tracing the color with my fingertips. I wish Ruby and Slater weren’t here right now so I could give Mikey a proper good morning kiss. Having her here feels natural, perfect. Part of me wishes it was stormy all the time so I could keep her here forever.
Instead of shying away or denying it, I decide to lean into what Slater is saying. “Yeah, sweetheart, how would I convince you to spend another night with me?”
16
Maybe it’s because I slept more soundly last night than I have in… well, longer than I can remember, but my brain is taking more time than normal to comprehend what I just heard.
For some reason, hearing Saint’sbest friend’s a mechanic is setting off tiny alarm bells in my head. I guess it makes sense Slater wouldn't be able to fix the issues he had in Salem, and he wouldn't want to drive all this way in a van that could potentially break down halfway home, but it’s weird he didn’t mention Slater’s job at all in the past year. Usually, customers like to brag about their mechanic friends to get a deal, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised Saint isn’t like other customers.
He never has been.
Still, I could have towed his van back here instead of making him come all the way back.
I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do when I woke up and heard more than one voice in the kitchen. I figured it was just Ruby, but then I heard a deep timbre I didn’t recognize.
I didn’t know if Saint wanted me to come out and meet whoever was here, or if I was supposed to stay in his room untilhe came to check on me. I would have been content to lie in his bed, breathing in his cinnamon and vanilla scent, but the smell of coffee tempted me to get up.
I started to second-guess my decision when everyone’s attention turned to me as soon as I opened the door. I don’t want to embarrass him since I don’t have any makeup on, and I’m wearing his clothes. I don’t want his friends to think I’m frumpy or unkempt.
Any worry is quickly squashed by the way Saint rushes around the kitchen counter, wiping his hands on his apron with the goofiest grin on his face.
“Let the poor girl get coffee before you start flirting with her, Jesus. Mikey, how do you like your coffee?”
