Page 33 of Waiting for Tuesday

She bit her bottom lip and continued walking. “Is this like a contractor’s version of a wet dream?”

I chuckled somewhat shocked by her choice of words and nodded. “Something like that.”

She placed one finger on the top of a large marble slab, and proceeded to drag it across the surface as she moved down the aisle. “How long have you been doing this?”

I leaned into the handle of the flatbed, feeling some of the walls between us start to crumble as I followed her. “Doing what?”

“Construction.”

I blew out a breath and looked up to the ceiling. “Four years.”

She glanced over her shoulder and lifted a brow. “That’s it?

“Yep, that’s it. You sound disappointed.”

She shook her head. “Not disappointed, impressed. You’re really good at what you do.”

I smiled and continued to follow her. “Thanks.”

She moved down the aisle a few more feet before I spoke again. “What about you?” I almost regretted the question as it crossed my lips, but then I didn’t. I was curious about her, had been for a long time.

She moved to another flooring display and paused. I thought she might close up as she’d always done, but she didn’t. She traced a slab of marble with her finger then looked over her shoulder.

“I’ve been making soap since I was ten years old.” She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and lifted her shoulders. “That’s what happens when your mom’s a hippie.”

I laughed. “You learn how to make soap?”

She nodded. “Among other things.”

“Oh yeah? What other things?”

She began walking again, stopping at various displays to check prices before answering. “Let's see… I know a dance that will make it rain. I can plant just about anything and make it grow. I know a home remedy for anything that ails you.”

She stopped, and her chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “I know how to pack a lifetime of possessions in a single night.”

She shook her head as if regretting her words, then looked back over her shoulder again, her grass-colored eyes serious and wounded.

“But I wouldn’t be where I am without it. I learned something from every place I’ve been. I’ve met a million people. Crazy people, beautiful ones—alldifferent.”

She turned around again and continued walking. “I’ve worked every farmers market from coast to coast… By the time I was eighteen, I was making enough money from my wares to venture out on my own.”

She stoppedat a display and our eyes locked. I wasn’t sure what made her open up like this, but I didn’t want it to stop. Something was exchanging between us. A connection that didn’t come with just any person.

“My mom did the best she could with what she had, but I’ve never really felt settled.” Her brows creased slightly. “That’s why I’m opening the shop. That’s why it means so much to me. That’s why it all makes me so insane sometimes.”

She was explaining her actions from the other night, telling me the reason she’d lost it in the back room. I wished I could tell her it wasn’t needed. That she didn’t need to explain herself to me because I was more fucked up than anyone. But for some reason, I didn’t want her to know that. I wanted her to go on looking at me like the hard piece of stone her hand rested on.

Unbreakable.

* * *

Tuesday

Feeling like an idiot, I closed my eyes and chewed my inner cheek. He was my contractor, and here I was spilling my guts as if he were my best friend. I turned away and pressed my hand against another display. “What do you think of this one?”

I wished I could retrace my steps and start over again—but the words were already out there, floating in the air like a cloud of vulnerability.

Wanting to apologize, excuse him from having to respond to my silly admissions, I turned around, but he was right behind me.

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