“He wore flip-flops with jeans. Out to dinner. At a nice restaurant. Flip-flops. And he needed a pedicure.”
“Right. And the accountant had knuckle hair. Are you seeing a pattern, Tuesday? You find fault in everything. In everyone. And it’s not because you’re a judgmental, mean person, it’s because you’re hiding away.” Gran sighed and brought her soft eyes to mine. “My sweet, sweet girl. I know why you keep going out with these boring men. Nothing about them gets your motor running. They’re safe because they’re disposable. Not every man is Travis. He was a weasel. He used you. Sweetheart, I know he hurt you, but it is time to move on.” She held up her hand. “Don’t shake your head. You’re transparent. Just because I’ve never called you on it before doesn’t mean I didn’t know what you were doing. I hate seeing you so lonely. You should be happy.”
“I’m not hiding,” I whispered.
“Then why aren’t you giving Jackson a shot? It’s obvious he wants one.”
I was going to note his age again, but thought better of it.
“He’s annoying,” I blurted out. “And presumptuous.”
My grandmother’s face brightened, and a broad smile graced her lovely face. Damn.
“You only find him annoying because he won’t take no for an answer.”
I wanted to ask her how she knew that, but refrained. My gran was a smart woman and had an uncanny ability to read me. She always had.
“I thought we were going to go play bingo. Wouldn’t want to keep your suitors waiting.”
She shook her head and gave me a small, sad smile.
Fuck.
Damn.
There had been a time I’d wanted what my grandparents had had. The kind of love that lasted decades and didn’t dim. I’d always thought I’d find it. I’d lived fast and loose with my heart. I’d worn it on my sleeve proudly, for the world to see, not knowing how fragile it was.
Now that I knew, it was protected. I hated that my grandmother looked so unhappy, but not even for her could I risk it again. It may’ve made me a horrible granddaughter, but there was only so much humiliation one person could take.
9
Jackson
“Yo, Jackson. You headed to the bar with us?” Brice asked as I was closing my locker.
“Nope. Got shit to do.”
“It’s after nine. What shit you gotta do this late at night?”
It wasn’t late, but I was dog assed tired. We were working ten-hour shifts for three days in a row with twenty-four hours off, then back to our tens. Thankfully, this would only last another two weeks then we were back to our normal rotation.
“The none of your business kind.” I smiled to take some of the sting out of my words.
“You still tryin’ to work that girl around? What’s her name? Friday?” He was busting my chops. He damn well knew her name.
“Tuesday,” I unnecessarily corrected.
“Yeah, Sweet Tuesday. You wear her down yet?”
Brice was one of my closest friends. We’d met at the academy and had been stationed together at the same firehouse. Good friend, great wingman, so, he knew all about Tuesday.
“Nope.” I smiled. “Not even a little.”
“You seem awfully happy for a man who keeps gettin’ shot down.”
“Gotta tell you, I’m enjoying the chase,” I told him.
The town we lived in wasn’t small, nor was it big. Most of the women around the local bars made it their business to know who the firefighters and police officers were. At first, it was gravy. Easy to get laid and not much effort had to be put into it. But the appeal died quickly, and when it did, it became annoying. I’d rather have to work for a woman than have her offer.
“You chasing a new piece, Clark?” Samuel asked as he walked into the room.
My jaw clenched and I tried to check my irritation. “Not real fond of you referring to any woman as a piece. But I’m really not happy hearing you call my woman one,” I told him.
The man was a dick. He’d been divorced three times, and it was no surprise. Not only had he treated his wives like shit, but all women in general. His last wife had scraped him off exactly two months into the marriage. That was three months ago. Since then he’d gone through every badge bunny in every bar within a thirty-mile radius.
Funny part was, they never went back for seconds, even if he asked. Which confirmed that, not only was he a dick, he was shit in bed. The thing about these women was they’d put up with you being a dick if there was something in it for them. They wanted to hook their star on a firefighter and it didn’t take much to please those types of women. A few barbeques with the guys, so they could brag to all their girls about the man giving it to them good and regular, and filling their heads full of bullshit stories about the dangers of fighting fires, and they were happy.
I’d never understand it. And I didn’t want it. Tuesday was the exact opposite of easy. She couldn’t care less that I was a firefighter.
“Damn. Clark’s got himself a woman,” Samuel continued, never knowing when to keep his mouth shut.
I ignored his comment and, with a fist bump as I passed Brice, I was out the door. “Catch ya’ tomorrow.”
I didn’t have time to educate Sam on his bullshit. It was going on nine-thirty, and if I wanted to catch Tuesday before she hit the sack I needed to hurry. I got into my truck and spent the drive hoping Tuesday would be in sweats and a tank top singing and swaying her hips again.
* * *
The music was once again playing. I could hear it through Tuesday’s front door. This time it was some country jam. I was thinking it was much better than the seventies rock mix she had on last time I was here when I tried the door handle.
Unlocked again.
Goddamn, I was going to tan her ass for not bolting her door. It didn’t matter she lived in a decent neighborhood. It was dangerous for a woman who lived alone to leave the door unlocked, especially while she was playing loud music.
I let myself in and there she was. This time she had on a pair of men’s boxer shorts rolled at the top sitting low on her hips. Hips that were indeed swaying to the beat of “Girl Like You,” and holy shit the song couldn’t have been more perfect. I felt the words deep in my chest, and her sexy movements in my dick. I stood and watched, taking in my fill. It was an asshole thing to do, and I should’ve made my presence known, or maybe even knocked, but I was enjoying the show too much to care.
Suddenly, her body stiffened, and she jerked around. Seeing me standing there she screamed and the papers that were in her hands went flying. Then she flew into me.
“You fucking dick. What’s wrong with you?” she yelled as her tiny fists pounded on my chest. “Goddamn, you gave me a heart attack.”
No, I hadn’t. But she needn’t worry, I knew CPR and it wouldn’t have been a hardship to give her mouth-to-mouth. As a matter of fact, I was thinking that was a good idea. I grabbed her hands in an effort to stop her assault and tugged her closer. She yanked herself free and stepped back.
“Stay away from me. I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do. I hate you so hard right now I want to kick you in the balls. So if you’re attached to them and would like to keep them in full working order, I suggest you leave.”
“Sweetness, you don’t hate me.”
“I really do, Jack. Why are you here?” Her breath was coming out in huffs. And I watched the rise and fall of her chest. Her perky boobs had caught my attention and all I could think about was what she sounded like, looked like, and felt like when she’d been panting my name as I’d moved between her thighs.
“Wanted to come by and say hi,” I answered.
“Say hi?”
“That’s what I said.”
She was cute as hell when she was pissed, which would really piss her off if she knew. Her hands were on her hips and a scowl was on her face. But it didn’t stop me from taking her in top to toe, this time from the front. She had a great ass, but
looking at her face-to-gorgeous-face was a much better view.
“Are your toenails painted different colors?”
“Yes,” she snapped.
“Why?”
“Why not? I like my happy toes.”
“Happy toes?”
“That’s what I call them. The different colors make me happy when I look at them,” she explained.
Well, there I had it. Happy rainbow-colored toes made her happy.
“Have you eaten dinner?”
“Why are you asking me about dinner? It’s almost ten.”
“Because I just got off a ten-hour shift, we had four jobs during that time, which means I didn’t eat. Came straight here after work and I’m starving. So, have you eaten?”
“Four jobs?”
“Fires.”
“Is that normal? Four fires in ten hours.” Her eyes widened and she almost sounded concerned.
I was happy to see she was no longer pitching a fit telling me she hated me but I wasn’t lying, I was hungry.
“How about I answer that after I order a pizza? Pepperoni and sausage, okay?”
“You’re not staying. Go home and order your pizza.”
Damn, I loved how feisty she was.
“Babe, I’m staying. I missed you. I wanna talk to you and see how you’ve been the last few days but I wanna do it eating. Pepperoni and sausage?”
She stared at me long enough I was getting ready to pull out my phone and order, if she didn’t like my choice, she could pull off the toppings, when she finally answered.
“No sausage.”
“Pepperoni it is.”
I pushed the call button when she added, “Add bell peppers and garlic.”
I placed our order and disconnected. I’d never had garlic on a pizza before but at the late hour, I was willing to eat just about anything.
“First, how has your week been?” I asked.
“Fine.”
I wasn’t stupid, I had a mother and grew up surrounded by female cousins. I knew when a woman said fine, she meant anything but. I was going to have to drag it out of her. Luckily, I didn’t work tomorrow so I had all night.
I glanced at the floor and noticed the papers she’d dropped. I knelt and started to pick up the loose sheets around my feet. A quick scan told me it was a contract of some sort.
“Everything okay with work?”
“My agent doesn’t want to allow me out of my contract.”
“Can she do that?”
I didn’t know anything about the modeling world, contracts, or agents. But I’d certainly learn if it meant wiping the scowl off her pretty face and the lines marring her forehead.
“No, she can’t. I can end the contract at any time, for any reason. She’ll still get her cut of anything she’s booked up until the time the contract is canceled. But she can’t force me to stay with the agency or take on more work.”
“Then what’s the issue?”
“I make her a lot of money,” she stated. “She doesn’t want to lose it. While we were in New York she was sweet and pleasant and begged me not to cut back. Now that she’s not getting her way, she’s threatening to sue me and booking me double what she was. I was supposed to be in a fashion show in Florida this afternoon.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Ruin my reputation. I declined the Florida show, she still booked me, now I’m a no show and it makes me look like an asshole.”
What a bitch. I finished picking up the papers and handed them to her.
“Damn, Sweetness. That sucks. Anything I can do to help?”
Her eyes flashed before she blinked and the look was gone. “No. I need to read through my contracts and hire an attorney, I guess. Which is gonna be hella expensive. But I can’t have Meredith running around telling designers and photographers I’m going to be places when I didn’t agree to it. Not only to protect myself, but them as well. It sucks when a model doesn’t show; it throws everything off. It screws with the vibe of the show, too. Everyone is stressed and trying to rearrange things. Not to mention, it’s also a waste of a photographer’s time. It’s not right.”
I was surprised, though I shouldn’t have been. It sounded like she was more upset about the undue hassle the other models would go through than her reputation.
“What else is bothering you?”
“Nothing.”
“Babe. You look like you have the weight of the world riding on your shoulders. I understand this shit with your agent has you bent, but that’s business, and an irritation. The look you have right now screams personal.”
She looked like she was getting ready to answer when she closed down tight. I had three uncles and a dad who were all badasses. All of them had perfected masking their emotions. Tuesday Knowls had them all beat. In an instant she’d wiped all emotion off her face, it was completely devoid of any reaction. I hated that she knew how to do that. But more than that, I hated she felt like she had to do it with me.
That shit was going to stop. I didn’t care how long it took, but she was going to learn to let me in.
I’d thought I’d come up with an action plan. I was going to slowly start integrating myself into her life. I had a feeling it was going to be at a crawl’s pace. I’d have to slip past her defenses until it was too late, and I’d made myself an integral part of her life. But, now, after seeing that shit? No way I was going to continue to let Tuesday live in a world where she thought she had to hide. There would be no going slow and sneaking in. I was going to trample and push until she told me why. Then I was going to set about making sure she never went back.
10
Tuesday
“Why are you here again?”
I’d had a momentary lapse of judgment and almost answered his question. I’d also forgotten I was irked at him. Well, I was irked before he’d shown up and let himself into my house. Now I was downright angry. And I’d let him order his stupid pizza.
How dumb am I?
“I wanted to say hi.” He repeated his lame answer.
“Ever heard of a telephone?”
“Don’t have your number, babe.”
“Did you stop to think why that was?”
“Nope.”
“Right. Ever heard of knocking?”
“Didn’t bother. Seeing as your music was so loud you would’ve never heard. And for the record this playlist is the bomb.”
My playlist was the bomb. But it pissed me off he was standing in my living room listening to it. It further made me mad he’d once again scared the crap out of me.
“And you didn’t lock your fucking door.”
A sudden and unwelcome thrill raced through me. He sounded like he actually cared.
“Whatever.” It was an immature response, but I was still trying to figure out why my heart was now pounding from something other than fright.
“Not whatever, Tuesday. It’s dangerous. Lock the goddamn door.”
I wasn’t sure why he thought it was his concern and I really wasn’t sure why I liked that he was worried. I was a grown woman, after all, and had lived on my own a long time. A lot longer than him.
“I think when your pizza gets here you should take it and go home.”
“Oh, no, I ordered bell peppers and garlic for you. We’re gonna sit down and eat it together.”
“Why?” My hands went up in frustration. “Why are you doing this? I’m sure there are about fifty other women you could call up and they’d be pleased as shit you wanted to have pizza and a sleepover with them.”
The thought hurt my heart.
“Sleepover?” He laughed.
I wasn’t trying to be funny. The last thing I needed was him in a good mood. He had a great laugh, deep and rumbly. It wasn’t lost on me how much my girly parts liked it. And his lips, mouth, and tongue. They really loved what he could do with those three things. I’d spent days imagining him doing them to me again.
Nope.
No way.
Not going to go th
ere. He had to leave.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
Jackson stepped closer while I was daydreaming about his expertise in the bedroom. This wasn’t good either. I didn’t want him in my personal space. It seemed my common sense took a vacation when he touched me.
“About how I want you to leave.”
“Liar. Your cheeks are pink and your eyes are glazed over. The last thing you were thinking about was me leaving. If I had to guess, I’d say you were thinking about what it feels like when—”
Ding dong.
Thank God. Saved by the bell.
Jackson smirked before strolling to the front door. I used the time to pull my shit together. I’d have to be more careful. He was far more observant than I’d given him credit for.
He came back in, dropped the box on the coffee table, went to the kitchen, cabinets opened and closed, then he reappeared with plates and napkins.
“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”
“Planned to.”
All of this happened while I stood woodenly in my living room wondering how the hell this was happening. The only good part about Jackson showing up was that I’d stopped thinking about my grandmother.
“Come eat, Sweetness,” he invited.
“Why are you doing this? And please answer me this time. I don’t like having to repeat myself.”
This had to end. Everything about him drove me crazy.
“I’ve already told you why. It’s not my fault you don’t like my answer.”
“Seriously.” I couldn’t stop the growl as it ripped from my throat. “Why the fuck do you keep showing up here?”
He stood up from my couch and stalked toward me. Yes, he stalked, like he was a sleek panther and I was his prey. He stopped inches from me. So close I could smell what was left of his cologne. I’d stupidly noted how much I liked the smell, specifically when it was on my pillowcase. I shouldn’t have. I should’ve been paying attention. One of his arms wrapped around my middle and hauled me flush to him, and his other hand made its way into the back of my hair. He unnecessarily tugged, as I was already staring at him.
Claiming Tuesday: The Next Generation Page 6
