Page 17 of Waiting for Tuesday

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 hadcables 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 washim.

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 couldnevergo 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

Isaton 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 triedto convince my lids to open.

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