Page 10 of Waiting for Tuesday

I swallowed, for some reason terrified. He was bigger than I’d expected—much bigger.

I knew he wasn’t angry with me; it was the boys he’d chased away a minute ago, but my heart still hammered inside my chest.

“Are you hurt?” he asked again.

I couldn’t make myself answer. I only stood there, my mouth slightly agape, and said nothing.

Without saying another word, he stood and lifted me off my feet. “Let’s get you some ice.”

I shook my head, finally recovering my voice as he walked with me down the hall. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

But he didn’t seem to take any notice and continued walking. When he sat me on the bar a minute later, I was blushing again. The gaggle of women sitting there all turned to stare at me. They looked me up and down, and I couldn’t help but feel self-conscious.

“I’m okay—really.” I wiggled my toes to prove the point, but it was too late. He already had a red towel filled with ice, coming toward my foot.

When the cold cloth touched my skin, I hissed at the sensation. “Thanks for coming to my rescue, but I think I was more surprised than anything.”

He nodded but still didn’t move. He didn’t say anything at all, just looked at me in a way that was both hard and soft at the same time.

He rested a hip against the bar and finally spoke. “Sorry about that. Dollar shots always bring a different kind of crowd.”

I chewed my lip, trying to focus on his words instead of the fingers that made tiny movements over my skin.

“What’s your name?” he asked when I remained silent. His eyes were intense and so much deeper brown than I originally thought. Like a hot cup of steaming coffee, with only the barest amount of cream inside.

“Tuesday.”

He smiled, but it was in that way that said he didn’t believe me. I got that reaction a lot. It wasn’t like it was a normal name, and it became especially unbelieving when it was said on aTuesday.I opened my mouth to give him my normal spiel, that I was raised by a hippie mother who was convinced everything good in her life happened on a Tuesday. But then the gaggle of women behind the bar began to squawk. “Donovan, come back.”

He looked over his shoulder and nodded, then removed the ice from my foot and tossed it into the sink. But he didn’t move away. He ran his fingers gently over my toes—feather soft—and I held my breath again.

“Sorry.” He cringed, grabbing for the towel again.

I touched his arm, just barely with my fingertips. “It’s okay.” Our eyes locked, and I could swear he branded my soul. He’d seemed so carefree when I’d first seen him, flirtatious, full of bold confidence, but the eyes that looked back at me now were weighted with pain, shielding a thousand secrets. I couldn’t even think with him so close.

He looked away in that moment, as if he felt something too, but then the girls behind us screamed again, and he glanced over his shoulder. “Sorry, I need to get back.”

“Of course.” I took a breath, eased off the bar, and plastered a smile on my face. It was stupid to be jealous; we’d only met a moment ago, but the feeling that twisted in my gut couldn’t have been anything else.

He grinned again, one I felt in my stomach, and I took a step away from the bar.

“Thanks again for your help,” I said, walking backward toward our table. “You better get back to your fan club.” Then I spun around, hurrying toward the safety of my best friend, and the pint of beer I needed more desperately than anything.

Chapter FOUR

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Tuesday

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When I arrived backat the table a moment later, I didn't hesitate before grabbing my pint and downing half the glass. Becky was talking with Colin and turned in her seat to look at me with an odd expression. “Thirsty?”

I only nodded.

She had a right to be confused. It wasn’t like me to drink this quickly. Sure, I’d gotten drunk at the launch party, but that was odd too. I took a few calming breaths and told myself not to look back at the bar.

“Can I get you ladies anything?” Colin stood reluctantly from my seat and began gathering more empties.

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