Page 16 of Waiting for Tuesday

Tuesday

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Irandown the stairs so fast I almost twisted my ankle, pushed through the back exit, and stumbled two steps into the parking lot before doubling over and gasping in lungs full of frigid air.

“God, I’m SOstupid!”

I should have used the phone at the bar like a normal person. The one that wasright there.Like any self-respecting woman would have done. Instead, I let him wield his seductive ways around my body and pull me in a direction I knew was all wrong. And to make matters worse, he was an ass about it. I buried my hands in my hair, feeling mortified.

Part of me wanted to go back in there and give him a piece of my mind, but I didn’t dare. I was afraid he’d be proven right. Afraid that even though his words made me want to punch him in the throat, I wouldn’t be able to resist him. The chemistry between us scared the crap out of me. I’d never felt anything like it before. His effect on me was like breathing… Urgent and compulsive, like breathing a lung full of air after suffocating—only it was as scary as doing it for the first time.

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 likethat.

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.

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