The back door opened behind me and I held my breath. I knew it was him before even turning around.
“So there’s something you should know about me, Tuesday. Sometimes my jokes aren’t funny.”
I whipped around. My hands clenched at my sides, every nerve in my body on fire. “You’re a jerk!” I shouted, but as soon as the words left my mouth, I’d wished I’d come up with something better. Something that would make Becky proud.
He stood only a few feet away, a grin on his face, and jumper cables slung over his shoulder. “So I’ve heard.”
I backed up a step, shaking my head in disbelief. “You had cables the whole time?”
“Maybe.” He shrugged.
I wanted to scream. Both because he infuriated me and because I still couldn’t think of a better name to call him. He began walking toward me, and I backed up in the opposite direction. I couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t smiling any longer. In fact, he looked almost angry now. I clenched my jaw, determined not to lose my shit.
“I’m guessing that one’s yours?” he asked.
I looked over to my truck, the doors open and vulnerable… Exactly how I felt in this moment. I wrapped my arms around my belly, wanting to shield some part of my open, exposed, naive self, and I nodded.
I hated the fact that I’d trusted him. Hated that even now I still did. But most of all, I hated the fact that he was right. I was stupid to follow a man I’d just met.
He hopped into a large black truck in the corner then pulled it over to park beside mine. His was new, shiny, and black as his heart, and mine old, rusted, blue, and broken. He rolled down the window and lifted his chin. “Pop your hood.”
I hugged myself around the waist and shook my head. “I don’t want you jumping me.”
He grinned, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Not even if I were the last man on earth, I know.” He hopped from the cab and stepped toward me. “I canceled your tow truck. Pop your hood.”
Heat flooded my face, and I wanted to scream. Never in my life had I wanted to slap someone before, but I wanted to slap the shit out of his smug face. Who canceled someone’s tow truck?
“You’re a self-righteous asshole,” I said to him. I wanted to say more. To tell him to go to hell, to write his mother and tell her to teach her son some manners, to kiss him so hard he felt an ounce of the unbridled desire that coursed through my veins. Shit! I flung open the door, climbed into the front seat, and popped the hood. What choice did I have? I couldn’t stay here all night with a man who made me hot in every humanly way possible. Not if I wanted to like myself in the morning.
“Look, I can see you’re pissed, but I wasn’t about to leave a beautiful woman in the damned parking lot alone.” He propped the hood then placed a small flashlight between his straight white teeth.
I focused on my breathing, trying to calm the sudden surge in my heart rate. He said I was beautiful. It was probably a throwaway line, used on a thousand women, but tell that to my skipping heart. He had no idea how much he affected me. How close I was to jumping out of my truck and pushing him up against the hood to have my way with him. What the hell was wrong with me?
Calm down, Tuesday. Deep breaths, slow and even, in and out.
The light was dim under the hood, but I could just make out his features as he worked. His jaw was tight—strong—with a scattering of whiskers that shadowed his cheeks. I thought about getting out of the cab to help him—at least hold the flashlight, but then I noticed a scar under his bottom lip. It was about a half inch long, nestled almost perfectly in the crease above his chin. For some reason, it made me curious. It was stupid to care about how he got it, but for some reason, I did. My head fell back to my seat and I closed my eyes. I needed to keep my distance. Maybe it was the stress of the store, but I wasn’t my normal self these days. Sure, I was calm enough on the surface, but inside, my legs were kicking like crazy to keep my head afloat. A list of to-dos a mile long waited for me at home. So much to do, and no time for another dead battery or men who looked like that.
When I opened my eyes a moment later, I almost frowned. He looked sad in the dim light of night. So much different than he had inside. His brows were creased, his eyes focused, but no smile graced his lips anymore. I couldn’t help but watch him. His movements were almost elegant. So natural, as though he’d spent a lifetime just like this. Trapped under a hood. Engine grease on his hands and a flashlight in his mouth.
All of a sudden, he looked up. Our eyes locked, and he took the flashlight from his lips. He said nothing, just walked over to his truck, started his engine, and then came to open my door and lean in over my lap. He nodded for me to turn the key then revved the engine a couple times with his palm. My heart leapt to my throat. What the hell? I was afraid to move. Afraid not to move. Afraid that if I did, I’d pull him closer instead of pushing him away as I knew I should.
We stayed like that a second longer. His engine poured life into mine the way his touch did to my body. I thought for a moment that he felt it too, because he hadn’t moved. His soft t-shirt was warm against my bare arm, causing goose bumps to cover my skin. I was a bundle of nerves waiting in anticipation of what would come next. Wanting something to happen, but fearing it at the same time. Then he moved away, causing a chill to run then length of my body where his warmth had been only a second before. He walked to the front of my truck and disconnected the cables.
He shut the hood, and his eyes met mine one last time before he turned away. “Have a good evening, Tuesday.”
That’s when I realized. To him, I was just another girl in the fan club. Another number.
I nodded, somehow managing to swallow my pride as I watched him unhook his battery, but I said nothing. I shoved the truck into drive, adjusted my seat belt across my lap, and pulled out of the lot, not once glancing in the rearview mirror as I drove away.
Chapter SEVEN
Tuesday
“So he had cables the whole time? What an ass…”
It was the next morning when I told Becky about Donovan. We sat criss-cross on the floor of my apartment, packing backlogged orders from my Etsy store, and my blood still boiled over a man I’d spent less than a couple of hours with. He’d gone from rescuing me in the hall, to being the man I needed rescuing from, yet I couldn’t stop thinking about him. He’d gotten under my skin—more than I cared to admit—and I didn’t like it.
I shoved a bottle of lotion into an open box and grabbed another invoice. Hundreds of orders waited for me on my desk, but all I could think of was him.
I needed my system back. Needed my organized shelves, my organized products, and my organized life. But that wouldn’t happen for a while.
“Wow. He’s really gotten to you, hasn’t he?” Becky stared at me, the pile of products between us as she scrunched her brows in examination. “I’ve never seen you like this before.”
I threw another package into the growing pile and shook my head. “Like what?”
“I don’t know.” She leaned back to analyze me. “Like you want to hurt someone.” She grinned.
“Nah, I don’t want to hurt anyone.” Not really, anyway… What I wanted was for Donovan to get out of my head! I didn’t want to think about him anymore: his adorable smile, eyes that haunted my dreams, or how good it felt being held it his arms. It was all too confusing…
“How are things with you and what’s-his-name?”
“Colin?” She shrugged. “He’s good for now. Not someone I see going anywhere with.” She stretched her long legs out in front of her and proceeded to lie back on the floor and close her eyes.
I laughed. Just like always, her guy didn't stick. It was always like that with Becky. If guys were too nice, she thought them a pushover. If they were too agreeable, she got bored. If they were an ass, she didn’t give them the time of day. I wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but in the twenty years I’d known her, she hadn’t come close to finding it. Kind of like me… though my list was never as long
as Becky’s. I just wanted a man to stay. To hold me tight and never let go, which was proving to be more difficult than I ever imagined.
Donovan’s infectious smile popped into my mind. He was exactly the type of man I didn’t want; yet, he’d consumed my thoughts all night. Even though he’d pissed me off, I felt more alive with him than I had in years. He’d done a whole lot more than jump my car that night. He turned something on in me I hadn’t been able to turn off all week. Which was the reason I could never go back to that bar again. I grabbed a trio of soap and shoved it into the envelope before starting on another order.
“Calm down, Tuesday. It’s not worth it.” Even with her eyes closed, Becky could sense my irritation. She propped herself on her elbows and looked up through sleepy eyes. “Stop worrying about things you have no control over. He’s just another asshole at a bar, him and a million others.”
“I know… It’s just bad timing with the store and all. Plus, I’m tired of always meeting jerks. I want to meet a nice guy for once.” I grabbed another invoice and read it two times before actually seeing it. “Maybe we’re looking in the wrong places. Maybe we should start golfing or something.”
Becky rolled to her stomach and laughed. “Yeah, no thanks.
“I’m serious, Becky! I’m almost thirty.”
She raised her brows and pushed herself up from the floor. “First of all, who cares?” She spoke in a calming voice. “Second of all, you turned twenty-nine two months ago, so chill. What does being thirty have anything to do with meeting a nice guy, anyway?”
“Because I want kids! The risks are higher the older I get, and I’m freaking out! What if I never find him?”
“Who? Prince Charming?” She rose to her feet and stretched. “Day,” she said with a sigh. “You can’t plan every detail of your life. Your guy will find you when he’s supposed to. And if he doesn’t, you go buy yourself a sperm Popsicle.”
I scrunched my nose but smiled at the same time. “You’re gross, Becky.”
She grinned and walked to the kitchen. “And you love me.”
John
I sat on the edge of my bed, tired from the long night at Donovan’s, and scratched Ginger behind the ears. She looked up at me with sad, caramel eyes and whimpered.
“I know girl, I’m getting up, just give me a minute.”
It was nearly seven in the morning, an hour past my normal wake up time, but I still couldn’t move. This week at the pub had worn me out, and five hours of sleep wasn’t enough time to recover. I pressed my thumb and forefinger to my eyes and tried to convince my lids to open.
Why on earth Jake wanted to put in a garden when there was perfectly good produce at the store was beyond me, but I’d made a promise long ago, and I was determined to keep it. Even if it meant getting up at seven in the morning on a Saturday. I threw the covers to the edge of the bed and rose to my feet. Ginger pranced to the other side of the room, and I knew it would only be a second before she was back with her leash.
We had a thing, Ginger and me. She forgave me all my flaws, and I took her for a run every night after work. Except for this week. This week I went straight to the pub. To eighteen hour days, and women who were more interested in taking selfies than participating in an intelligent conversation. This week had taken its toll on both of us.
I grabbed my running shorts from the foot of my bed, pulled them on, and then stumbled down the hallway to look for my shoes. The living room was a freaking mess. A week’s worth of not caring left discarded clothes scattered across the hardwood floor, and I didn’t even give a shit. I plopped down to the edge of the couch and found my shoes under the coffee table.
My phone vibrated beside me and I cringed. Who the hell was calling at this hour? I leaned over to get a better look and rolled my eyes.
Lisa. My youngest sister, and the one the other two always sent to do their dirty work. I sent the call to voicemail and bent over to pull on my shoes, but the phone immediately buzzed again.
Ginger plopped her leash down at my feet, and I shook my head. “Just like every other woman in my life, you’re trying to rush me.” I stood up and swiped open the call.
“Hello”
“Thank God, John! Where have you been?”
I yawned and stretched a little. “What do you mean, where have I been? It’s the butt crack of dawn on a Saturday. I was sleeping.” I walked to the kitchen, pulled a jug of OJ from the top shelf, and chugged a good mouthful. “What has your panties in a bunch?”
She was quiet a moment, which wasn’t like her, and I walked toward the sink and set the jug on the counter. “Lisa?”
“You haven’t heard…”
My chest constricted at the tone of her voice, and I shook my head. “Heard what?”
She hesitated. “John—Jake’s wife is in the ER. He just called, trying to find you.”
I pushed myself from the counter, unable to speak. I saw Jake and Katie less than twelve hours ago. “Wha—what happened?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I think it’s something to do with the baby.”
I gripped the phone so hard I heard a crack. “Shit!”
“You-you should go, John. Jake sounded really upset.”
I turned to the window and looked out without seeing. “Where are they?”
“Holy Cross.”
It was only ten minutes later when I pushed through the door to the waiting room of Holy Cross Memorial Hospital, but it felt like a thousand. It was early, eerily quiet, but the stench of antiseptic and tragedy left me tense with claustrophobia.
I found Em right away in the corner of the room. Her short hair plastered to her face like she’d just rolled out of bed, her body absent of the fashion she normally prided herself on, replaced with sweats and a t-shirt I knew she’d fallen asleep in.
“What happened? Where’s Jake?”
She shook her head and looked over her shoulders to the closed double doors. “I don’t know. Jake called this morning in near hysterics and told me Katie was bleeding. That’s all I know.”
I turned to face the door, needing the limited privacy as I took in the news. I raked my hand through my hair, trying to make some sense of it all. I saw them only hours ago and everything was fine. “Do you think she’s losing the baby?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
My head began to pound at the thought of it. Jake and Katie didn’t deserve this. They were newly married, just finding themselves after a lifetime of hurt, and there was only so much loss one could take. This would break them. Both of them.
Em touched my shoulder, and I forced myself to turn and face her. She was close to losing it—I could see that the moment I walked through the door. I clenched my jaw and pulled her into my chest. She was normally so strong, unaffected by life’s mishaps, but this obviously shook her. I hadn’t seen her like this in twenty-four years. Since we were kids. “She’ll be fine, Em. Everything is going to be fine.” Though I wasn’t sure I believed it.
A half hour later, I pushed myself from the red vinyl seat and forced myself to the vending machine. I wasn’t hungry, not in the slightest, but I couldn’t stand to look at Em’s face any longer. It was one of defeat, sadness, and loss. I could practically see her building stone walls around herself, brick by brick. An armor of protection that didn’t offer any protection at all.
I punched in my order for a cup of coffee and glanced over my shoulder. “Want anything?”
She only shook her head, not meeting my eyes as she continued to stare at the double doors.
We both startled some time later when Jake pushed the doors open. He walked toward us, his eyes dark and sunken, his clothes disheveled in a way that said he’d been wearing them all night.
“How is she?” I asked, even though the question made my stomach roll with fear.
Jake inhaled slowly then looked over his shoulder. “She’s resting.” He nodded, as though the action convinced him resting was all she needed. “The baby’s fine. Th
e doctor said we’ll get to go home in a few hours.”
Em let out an audible sigh, and Jake turned around to face us again.
“What happened?” Em asked.
Jake raked his hands through his hair and shook his head. “Her placenta’s too low.” He sat down on a nearby seat and pushed his head back to the wall. “She’s on bedrest. She was working too hard… Dammit! I knew I should I have said something!” He hit the arms of his chair, causing the security guard to look over from his post in the corner.
Em and I glanced at each other before she sat down beside him. “Placenta previa?” she asked, taking Jake’s hand and squeezing it between her two.
He nodded but kept his head pushed back to the wall. “Yeah, I think so.”.
“She’ll be fine,” Em whispered. “Katie’s strong, your baby’s strong, and everything will be okay.”
Jake nodded, but remained quiet as we all sat there, truly breathing for the first time in hours, composing his nerves and working things out. He sat up a moment later and turned to look at me. His stance was determined, as though he’d finally decided something that has been eating at him for way too long.
He furrowed his brow and nodded his head. “I need your help.”
I braced my legs apart and shoved my hands in my pockets. “Anything.”
And I meant it.
Chapter EIGHT
Tuesday
Adrenalin pumped through my veins as the sounds of construction filled my ears. I took a few cleansing breaths, twisted off the ignition, and inhaled the day I’d waited for three long years. Even from thirty feet away, I could see the transformation of the shop already taking place. Large trucks were already parked throughout the lot, men on lifts were tearing down sheets of warped, rotted siding, and my dreams were starting to take form. I closed my eyes, closed them super tight and focused on my vision. I could just make it out, the shop that reminded me of a little gingerbread house when I first saw it, a place that would be my home away from home, my future. I looped my arm through the wooden handle of my toolbox and grabbed my smoothie and box of donuts from the center console.
Waiting for Tuesday: Suspicious Hearts Book Two Page 5
