Page 22 of Waiting for Tuesday

She remained silent, just tapped her foot repeatedly until I eventually had enough.

“So… I guess you’re still pissed about the other night.”

“Yeah.” She laughed. “I guess I am.”

I turned to face her.. “Come on, it wasn’t that ba?” But her stare alone stopped me mid-sentence. I gripped the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes.

“You treated me like I was a child.”

Our eyes locked, and I shook my head. “Well,”—my brows furrowed as I looked into her vivid green eyes—“you shouldn't follow strangers. And you shouldn’t hang out in dirty alleys, either.” I dusted off my legs and pushed myself to stand. “Didn’t your father ever teach you anything?”

She rose to her feet and stepped toward me, our bodies only half a foot apart. “Didn’t yourmother teach you manners?”

I shrugged, my eyes narrowed as my blood instantly heated. I didn’t know why she affected me so quickly. I was always the calm one in my family, but something about this woman sent me over the edge.

She turned away again and pressed her back against the wall.

I almost laughed. I’d come out here to apologize, but for some reason, she pushed all the wrong buttons. Jake’s wife Katie was on bed rest from almost losing their baby, Jake was more stressed than I’d ever seen him, and here I sat with a woman who was throwing a fit over something that happened in a bar.

“So what’s the solution, Tuesday?” I gripped my skull and began rubbing. “Am I fired or what?”

Her head fell back against the bricks and she blew out a breath. “I don’t know. I don’t think I have a choice.”

“You always have a choice.” I met her eyes and held my ground. “The way I see it, you have two of them. We can go back inside, and I can work my ass off for the next three months. You do your thing, and I’ll do mine. Or I get my crew, and we walk out that door right now.”

Her chest was heaving as she stood in front of me, but she didn’t look away. She looked up and down my body as if she was making her mind up about something. “I thought maybe I’d been overreacting. But I was right, you’re an asshole.”

I chuckled. “I never said you had to like me, Tuesday.”

“Well I don’t.” She lifted her chin but didn’t look away.

I nodded. “You can let me go, hope to find someone on short notice—one who won’t do half the job I will—or we can walk inside and forget this conversation ever happened. Just so you know, I prefer the latter.”

She looked toward the door, her shoulders rising and falling with each breath. She picked her bag up off the ground and threw it over her shoulder. “Fine.” She opened the door. “But if you piss me offone time, you’re out of here.”

She slammed the door closed behind her, causing the whole doorframe to shake with the impact. I gripped the back of my neck and let my shoulders fall. I’d grown up with three older sisters, all of whom required a lot of patience, but Tuesday may have just outdone them all. I pushed my back against the wall and inhaled through my nose. I needed a minute to compose myself before going inside—and if my instincts were right, so did she.

Chapter NINE

Tuesday

* * *

“Insert postA into slot X. That’s what it says.” Becky sat on the counter, reading the shelving instructions for the fourth time and chewing a piece of gum so loudly it made me cringe. She’d come to the shop early that morning to help me unpack, which we’d done all afternoon, but for the last two hours, we’d been stuck trying to put this stupid shelving unit together.

“But I don’t see a slot X.” I looked down to the row of pieces alphabetized on the floor. “Where’s slot X? Are you sure that’s what it says?”

She shook her head and laughed. “Yes, I’m sure. You read it if you don’t believe me.” She thrust the papers toward me and hopped from the counter.

“No, I believe you.” I scratched the top of my head. “It must be missing.”

“Maybe.” She gathered her bag off the counter before turning around. “I still don’t understand why you don’t have one ofthemhelping you.”

She was referring to John and his crew, which I had to admit would have been much more convenient, but they weren’t my employees. Not really.

“Because I need them outthere”—I lifted my chin to the product floor—“so I can open this shop and hope to make my money back. I don’t want any delays. Not even the couple of hours it would take to put this thing together.” I inhaled, letting my shoulders rise up then fall again with a huge sense of defeat.

I leaned against the counter and glanced to the product floor. I hadn’t stepped foot out there a second more than necessary. Not a second longer than it took for me to drop off the donuts I hoped would fuel their motivation and then head to the back door. I told myself it was because I didn’t want to get in their way, but the truth was I couldn’t stand the thought of asking John for anything. His smug grin would push me over the edge.

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