Page 45 of Waiting for Tuesday

I hopped from the bed of his truck and turned my back. I closed the tailgate, unable to keep the words from spilling from my mouth. “Less than twelve hours ago you were telling me to run from you, and now you’re running from me?” Why I felt so vulnerable I didn’t know, but my voice shook with it. I felt it in my bones, in the blood that rushed to my neck and cheeks; there was no way I could hide it from him now.

He grabbed my arms, his touch the last thing I expected, and he turned me around to face him. “You did too much right, that’s the problem.”

Tears pooled in my eyes, but I forced my chin up to meet him. “I don’t understand.”

He looked back at me, his jaw clenched as his eyes bored into my soul. “I like you too much to just sleep with you.”

I inhaled, my breath shaky. “Is that what this was to you?”

He looked away, over my shoulder to the dark empty lot. “I don’t know what this was.”

“Why?”

He shook his head, chuckling as he pulled me against his chest again. “Why do you need all the answers right now?”

My body tensed and I pushed away. I was tired of the mixed signals. Tired of being some amusing little woman for him to laugh at. Yes, I was emotional, yes, I cried too damned much, but the last thing I wanted was him laughing at me. I turned away, deciding that maybe he was right, and we both needed to go to sleep. Separately!

I walked around to the side of his truck and yanked open the passenger door.

“Don’t laugh at me, John. This may be funny to you, but it’s not funny to me.” I grabbed my purse from the floor and slammed the door, realizing too late that his hand had taken the full force of the blow.

“Oh my God!” I opened the door as quickly as I’d shut it, but John doubled over, holding hishand to his chest as he walked a couple of steps away.

“Fuck.” He muttered under his breath.

I covered my mouth with my hand, completely disappointed in my lack of control. “I didn’t mean to do that. I didn’t mean?” I came closer. “Are you okay?”

He scrunched up his face and nodded, then leaned against the side of his truck, his head held back on his shoulders in pain.

I stood in front of him, my lip between my teeth as I took his hand in mine. “Here, let me.”

He hesitated, but finally relaxed and let me turn it over.

I cringed at the sight of his bloody knuckles, already bruising and starting to swell. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean?” I stopped because my guilt wasn’t helping anything. “I have a first aid kit in the shop.”

He looked into my eyes, and for whatever reason, something shifted between us. A mutual trust I wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge. I turned around, hoping he would follow, and he did.

My heart leapt to my throat as I pulled my keys from the zippered pocket of my purse, and my hands trembled as I unlocked the door and turned on the lights.I made my way to my office, John right behind me, and pulled the kit from the bottom drawer of my desk.

“Wait here,” I said, patting the top of the desk before hurrying to the product floor. Igrabbed a container of antiseptic salve then stopped by the kitchen and filled a small bowl with warm water. When I got back to the office he was still waiting for me, sitting on top of my desk in the relaxed way he did everything.

I opened up my kit and examined his hand again.The wound wasn’t as deep as I had thought in the dark but still looked incredibly painful. I took a dampened cloth from the bowl and began to clean it. He didn’t make a sound.

“I’m so sorry,” I said again, my muscles tightening involuntarily as I dabbed his wound over and over. I was reminded of that first night at the bar, when he’d taken care of my foot and I’d run away, but now the roles were reversed.

I opened the tin of salve, took a small bit with my finger, and began spreading it across his knuckles. I could feel his eyes on me, and the same sexual tension that always floated between us filled the room. His other hand settled on my waist, gently pulling me toward him.

I knew I shouldn’t let this happen, that I should run away as I had that night, but I didn’t have the strength this time, and I let him pull me closer until his muscular thigh settled between the two of mine. My breathing deepened, but I kept my eyes focused on my task. I pulled a spool of gauze from the first aid kit and began to wrap it around his hand, while his other hand traveled down to rest on the small of my back. It was such a tiny movement, so subtle, but my whole body ignited like a torch.

I fastened the gauze with a bit of tape, closed my eyes, and pressed his bandaged knuckles to my lips. I could feel him watching me, knew we were crossing a line that could never be uncrossed, but I didn’t care. I did it again, this time letting my lips linger a little longer than the last. I swallowed, fighting back an emotion that overwhelmed me, and then I stepped away.

He caught me at my waist andlifted my chin with his finger. He tilted my face up until we were both nose to nose, and there was no avoiding his gaze. “You’re too good for me, Tuesday.” His voice was gruff, but this time he didn’t push me away. His lips came down on mine, hard and passionate, crushing my mouth with a beautiful pressure that floored me. His arms wrapped around my body, and he pulled me against his chest, supporting all my weight.

I wound my arms around his neck and didn’t hold anything back. I gave him everything, wanting to take everything of his in return.

His tongue pushed into my mouth, filling me with the delicious taste I longed for. He felt so good, smelled so good, tasted so good…

I stepped closer, wanting every part of my body pressed against him, every part of his body pressed against me. He pulled away, just enough for his mouth to trail down my cheek.

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