Page 8 of Waiting for Tuesday

Becky clapped. “Yay. I love you.”

I smiled then peered over her shoulder as a dark-haired man approached our table. “Is that Colin?”

Becky spun in her seat and smiled. “Hey, handsome!” She looped her arm around his waist then turned to face me again. “Colin, this is my friend Tuesday. Tuesday, this is Colin.”

He wiped his fingers on a red towel then held his hand out to shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

I nodded, but a commotion at the bar drew my attention. The man who was standing on it earlier now had an even larger crowd as he poured drinks from behind it. Three rows deep, mostly women, all standing around as if they were about to win the lottery.

I thought he might be telling some kind of story, because all the women burst into waves of giggles and squeals. I couldn’t help but grin a little myself. He was as animated as a child at Christmas. He kept running his hand over his head, in that boyish sort of way, and his smile was so joyful you’d think he had a pair of toads in his pockets. But as youthful and playful as his expression, his body sent a completely different message. This man was fully-grown: broad shoulders, corded arms, very tall… Suddenly, I could see what all the fuss was about.

“Can I get you ladies a drink?” Colin asked, startling me back to the table.

Becky narrowed her gaze at me and grinned. “Give her the healthiest, most disgusting thing on the menu, and I’ll have another of those blue things you made me last week.”

I rolled my eyes and looked at the menu. “I’ll take a pint of your organic stout. And don’t listen to Becky. She’s just trying to kill herself with food dyes and GMOs.”

Becky lifted her shoulders. “Eh, I’ll die happy.”

Colin nodded, ignoring our banter as he gathered empties at a nearby table. “Organic Stout and a Blue-eyed Blond. You got it. He flashed Becky a look that said he preferred brunettes, gathered his full tray of bottles, and headed for the back room.

“I thought you were in the foreplay stage,” I said, as he turned the corner.

“We are,” Becky replied, shifting her gaze away.

“Uh huh. Is that why you’re waiting for him until—wait, what time is he off?”

“Midnight.” She cringed. “But I promise you don’t have to stay a minute later than that.”

“Famous last words.” I laughed. “Wait, don’t you have work tomorrow?”

She shrugged, “I’m on hiatus.”

“Nice to be you,” I replied, pulling a tube of lip balm from my bag and smearing it over my mouth. Becky was a makeup artist for the studios, an excellent one who was highly requested, but her work in production meant she had lots of breaks of employment. This break couldn’t have come at a more perfect time.

“So,”—I sat forward in my seat—“the cleaning crew starts tomorrow, construction starts Monday, and I’d really like everything organized before?”

But more squeals made me glance back over to the bar. I immediately saw the reason for all the excitement. The man at the bar had pulled off his shirt. But he wasn’t just a man; he was the man with that damned smile.

I couldn’t pull my eyes away. His chest was broad, his abs defined, and his whole body tapered to a V that led my eyes to a perfect sprinkling of hair at his waistline. He turned his back to the crowd, showing a tattoo that ran from shoulder to shoulder. A large cherry branch with hundreds of delicate flowers. It was both out of place and perfect at the same time.

“And?” Becky asked, following my line of vision. But as quickly as he’d taken it off, his shirt was back in place. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you blushing?”

I sat up straighter, pressing the backs of my fingers to my heated cheek. “Am I?”

Her gaze narrowed. “You never finished your thought.”

I licked my lips, searching for the last thing I’d been talking about, but then his eyes met mine and I froze. I hadn’t even realized I’d been staring. His lips curved into a slight smile, and he lifted his chin. I couldn’t look away. His eyes were so dark they were almost black, and his smile… It made me want to throw my ten-date rule out the window. I pulled my eyes back to Becky. “Saturday! I thought we’d rent a truck.” I blew out a breath, trying to recover my fluster. “Move everything over to the shop?”

“You and me?” Becky asked.

I nodded.

She leaned forward and examined me with a knowing expression. “You have the hots for that bartender, don’t you?”

“What? You’re crazy.” But my voice pitched a little higher than usual. I looked over my shoulder, sure Colin should be back with our drinks but found nothing.

“Of course I’ll help you.” She grinned. “Like I have a choice anyway.”

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