Waiting for Tuesday: Suspicious Hearts Book Two

by Taylor Sullivan

  Work awaited me in the back room, and I was anxious to get started. I’d done my best at running my business out of boxes, but it was time to get caught up. I jogged across the lot, pushed through the plastic tarp that covered the front entrance, and somehow managed to set the donuts on a small table in the corner of the room without dropping anything. The men were already busy at work, but I called out to the only man who paid me any attention and lifted my chin. “For you.” I waved in the direction of the donuts. “Come eat while they're still warm.”

  He smiled, and I knew what I offered was total bribery, but I was okay with that. My dream was finally coming true. If I had to tempt men with sweet pastries to make that dream come faster, I was going to do it.

  I continued on to the back room, pushed my way through a plastic tarp that was the temporary divider, and stopped. I knew they’d be there, but for some reason, they looked more daunting this morning. Stacks and stacks of product boxes lined the floor like soldiers ready to attack me. My stomach twisted into uncomfortable knots. It didn’t seem like this much a few days ago.

  Becky and I had moved everything earlier in the week. We’d planned to get organized, but it ended up being a bigger job than we’d both anticipated. The shop as a whole had turned into more than I anticipated, but I was in waist deep and didn’t have a paddle with me.

  I looked around the room, overwhelmed by how much stuff there was to do. It seemed insignificant when spread out over a thousand places, but with it all condensed in one spot, I could finally see how much of a mess my life had become. My transient past finally contained in one place. Just looking at the haphazard room made me want to go to sleep. Forget about the whole thing and go back to my apartment. But I wasn’t a quitter—like hell, I would start now.

  A tall box rested in the far corner of the room, and I knew that was where I needed to begin. I plopped my toolbox on the counter, took a long sip of smoothie, and pulled the instructions from the front envelope. But just as I started to read, voices down the hall pulled my attention. Jake.

  I grabbed my smoothie, set the instructions on the top of the box, and rounded the corner.

  Just as I’d anticipated, Jake and one of his crew were already engrossed in work. I rested a hip against the doorframe and watched them. They were both bent over, tool belts at their hips, and blueprints spread across the wide surface of my desk. It was like a scene from a romance movie. They were both tall, well built and strong..

  I cleared my throat, needing to get their attention before my imagination did naughty things with them.

  Both men turned in unison, Jake Johnson, his eyes bright blue but tired, and Donovan!

  I held my breath.

  “Ms. Patil,” Jake said. “We were just talking about you. I’d like you to meet my new project manager, John.”

  Cold smoothie splattered at my feet as I locked eyes with the man who’d haunted my dreams all week. The man Jake had referred to as John. My project manager?

  Jake handed me a rag to clean up the mess, but I couldn’t even move, let alone form a proper thought..

  “There are some paper towels in the other room. I’ll be right back.”

  Jake ducked out of the room, and I knew green smoothie covered my feet, but all I could do was blink. This was a dream. I was sure of it. Pretty soon, John would kiss me as he’d done in my dreams all week, and I’d wake up. But he wasn’t kissing me, and I wasn’t waking up. We stared at each other in silence as I twisted the rag in my hands, finally finding my voice. “What are you doing here?” I forcefully whispered.

  He stepped toward me, took another rag from his belt, and dropped down to squat at my feet. “It seems I’m your new project manager.” He grinned.

  I stepped backward and violently shook my head. “Like hell you are.”

  He only shrugged and stood up again.

  “I thought your name was Donovan?”

  “It’s not.”

  “I thought you owned the bar?”

  “Wrong there, too.”

  “Are you even a bartender?”

  He sat on the desk, somehow looking as natural in a tool belt as he did standing on a bar. “Well, that part is true. I’m a man of many talents, Ms. Patil.” He raised one brow, and my mouth dropped open.

  Jake walked back into the office, completely oblivious to the whole situation, and dropped down to clean up the mess. I squatted next to him, a thousand questions lingering on my tongue, but I only asked the one that was most urgent. “I thought you were the project manager?”

  Jake frowned and tossed the soiled towels into the trash. “Don’t worry, Ms. Patil. John is my best man. I can guarantee you’re in good hands.”

  John cleared his throat, and I knew without a doubt his grin had widened. I wanted to scream, to grab hold of his tool belt, and drag him to the exit where he belonged. “I’m sorry, but I hired you. I want you!” I said to Jake.

  Jake gripped the back of his neck and looked to the floor. “There’s been a family emergency.” He widened his stance and looked me in the eye. “Don’t worry, I’ll be overlooking the project every step of the way, but John will be the lead on this job.”

  I looked from him to John, who was still smiling, and shook my head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’re going through a hard time, but this won’t work.”

  Jake furrowed his brows. “I’m sorry, but what won't work?”

  I glanced between the two men, one smiling, the other not, and I didn’t know what to say. I was already behind on work, stressed out beyond belief, and needed construction to start. Today! I felt the room around me spin, all my plans sink to a pit of sand at my feet, and there was nothing I could do about it. Not one little thing.

  It was too much to take all at once. I turned around and walked out of the room. “I have to think.”

  I continued down the hall, around my abandoned shelving boxes, and didn’t stop until I pushed through the back door leading to the alley. I squatted down, pressed my back against the wall, and buried my hands in my hair.

  What was I going to do? I couldn’t work with him, work with a man who smiled like that—looked like that—who I’d seen naked in my dreams! But I couldn’t afford not to work with him either. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and began typing a message to Becky.

  Me: The ASSHOLE is my project manager.

  I sent the message and began counting backward in my head in an attempt to stay calm.

  Becky: What asshole?

  I swallowed.

  Me: Jumper cable guy.

  Becky: OMG! Are you kidding?

  My phone rang with an incoming call and I answered it.

  “What do you mean, he’s your project manager? I thought it was Mr. Tall Dark and Married?”

  “So did I.” My butt fell to the pavement and I stretched my legs out in front of me. “What am I going to do?”

  “What do you mean? Is there anything you can do?”

  I shrugged. “Hire someone else?” I wanted to cry, to kick my arms and legs and have a big old fit in the middle of the alley.

  “How long would that take you?” Becky asked.

  I whimpered. It had taken months to find Jake, to track down his references and make sure he was the man I wanted for the job. And he was. My breathing quickened.

  “Okay,” Becky said in a calming voice. “The first thing you need to do is stay calm.”

  I blew out a breath and nodded. She was right. Panicking now would only lead to more trouble. “I’m trying…”

  John

  Jake turned to me and raised one brow. “Do you know anything about this?”

  I crossed my arms, adjusted my feet, and leaned my back into the desk. “I may have an idea.”

  Jake braced his legs apart and stroked his chin between thumb and forefinger. “Did you sleep with her?”

  “No.” I shook my head.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Look.” I grinned, cleared my throat, and pushed myself to stand. “It was
a misunderstanding.”

  “A misunderstanding?”

  I nodded and scratched the back of my head. “I’ll go smooth things over. Don’t even worry about it.” I held up my hand, telling him to give me five minutes, and headed for the doorway. The truth was I’d been as shocked as she was. Never in my wildest dreams had I expected to see her again. Never in my wildest dreams had she looked so pissed, either. I laughed, even though the situation I found myself in wasn’t the least bit funny.

  The guys were all busy at work when I pushed through the tarp to the product floor. “Eddie!” I shouted. “Hey, Eddie!”

  He turned around and lifted his chin.

  “Did Ms. Patil come through here?”

  He placed his sledgehammer on the counter before facing me. “You mean that cute thing with the hair? She went back there ten minutes ago. Carrying a little pink toolbox with her.”

  I frowned. “She didn’t come back here just now?”

  He shook his head. “No, not that I noticed.” His grin widened. “She left us donuts, though.”

  I nodded, glancing down to the flakes of sugar that covered the front of his shirt. “Thanks, man.”

  I pushed my way to the back room, wondering where the hell she’d gone, and spotted her little pink toolbox on the counter. I scratched my head and opened the box. A little saw, hammer, a few screwdrivers, and a bottle of lotion. What the hell she was thinking? She’d hired a whole construction crew to work for her, yet she’d brought her own toolbox with her to work. I wasn’t sure if that made me like her more or think she was completely crazy.

  I finally found her in the back alley a minute later. She was sitting on the dirty pavement, her legs splayed out in front of her, her hand gripping her phone so tight her knuckles were white.

  Without saying a word, I adjusted my tool belt and sat beside her. Judging by the way her back stiffened, she wasn’t happy about it.

  She straightened up, pulled one knee to her chest, and spoke into the phone. “Becks, I gotta go.” She cleared her throat then threw her phone into the same oversized bag I remembered.

  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 your mother 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 off one 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 post A 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 of them helping 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 out there”—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.

  She raised her brow. “Well, good luck then.” She kissed me on the cheek and gave me a little side hug. “I gotta go. I have a bride consult in an hour.”

  I tilted my head. “I thought you gave up weddings?”

  She shrugged and backed toward the plastic sheet that now served as a door. “Friend of a friend.”

  I laughed and watched as she squeezed herself through the plastic divider. My plan for the evening was to unpack all my chemicals so I could start replenishing product, but then this happened. The shelving catastrophe I didn’t have time for. Yet another delay, another day where inventory went out but didn’t come in. I was determined not to let the whole evening go to waste.

  I made my way to my office, sat at my desk, and stretched my legs in front of me. It had been forty-eight hours since my altercation with John, and we’d done exactly what he’d said. Kept our distance. He did his thing, and I did mine, which was exact
ly how I wanted it.

  I’d only seen him a handful of times. When I left each night, and when I arrived each morning. On occasion, I’d catch a glimpse of him through the plastic divider. Covered in filth, dirt, and sawdust… and an expression that looked so sad it made my heart hurt. I’d only just met him, but it looked all wrong. He was the happy to be alive guy at the bar, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit responsible for the change.

  I shook my head, telling myself I was being dramatic for no good reason, which I was doing a lot lately. The stress of the store was getting to me. I was emotional, cranky, and PMSing like nobody’s business. I opened my office drawer and pulled out a stack of product boxes, determined to do the only thing that didn’t make me panic. Work. The desk was cleared, drawers organized, and everything was in its proper place. Including the light blue sofa I’d picked up on a whim with the shelving unit—the only reason that furniture store was still in my good graces today.

  My body begged for a nap. To curl up on the soft, corduroy upholstery and forget about everything. But it was amazing how quickly I’d gotten behind. I had two large orders to ship, one being from my number one client Mrs. Tuso, and I tried to focus on the positive.

  I hit the button on my oil diffuser, causing a billow of lavender mist to wash across my face. I inhaled, taking in the earthy, floral scent that would normally ease my worries. But not today. Today it would take more than a few drops of oil to cure the knots embedded a mile deep inside each of my shoulders. I needed to get some work done. More than a little. I flipped open my computer and pulled up this week’s invoices. I pressed print, and the low ink button began to blink immediately.