Waiting for Tuesday: Suspicious Hearts Book Two

by Taylor Sullivan

  My purse sat on the desk in my office, right where I’d left it.. I plopped down in my seat, pulled off one boot at a time, and set them upside down on the heating vent. I rubbed my fingers back and forth over my lips before pulling my wallet from the bag.

  The American Express I’d never used sat inside. The sticker still on, still perfect, the line of credit untouched. I’d gotten it in case of emergencies. For things a normal person would go to their parents for. Like my truck breaking down, a broken bone, or God forbid, something more serious. But all I had was my hippie mom, with this biggest heart, but no sense of responsibility. Everyone knew I was the stable one in the family.

  More pounding came from the ceiling, and I let my head sag to my shoulders. I needed to find out what this would all cost before I started to panic.

  I pushed myself from my seat, opened the office door, and froze. There, on the other side of the room was the shelving unit. Light maple, beautiful, exactly like the picture on the box. I didn’t know why, but it took my breath away. Not only had he been my savior last night, but he’d also put my shelving unit together.

  Just then, a gust of wind blew in from the alley, and John walked through the door. He wore a yellow poncho covered with rain and his hair had beads of water resting on its ends. Stubble slightly longer than his normal shadow covered his face, but he looked—amazing.

  He shook his head, causing the drops to fly in every direction, then turned to me.

  I swallowed, remembering his arms wrapped around me last night, how gentle he’d been. How hard he’d hugged me. How sweet, even though I’d practically ignored him all week.

  His eyes found mine but he didn’t speak. He didn’t smile either.

  “Y-you put my shelving unit together. Thank you.” I wrapped my arms around my waist, sure it was the chill in the air that caused my stutter. “You didn’t have to.”

  His brows furrowed and he nodded—once. Then he moved toward me, his boots leaving puddles of water on the plywood floor, and I instinctively took a step backward. “Where did you find slot X?”

  The corner of his mouth lifted, not quite a smile but not a frown either, then he shifted his poncho to the side, exposing a power drill on the holster of his belt. “I made one.”

  I grinned. “I can’t even tell you how relieved that makes me.”

  He nodded but kept moving forward.

  My heartbeat quickened and I touched a hand to my throat. “You probably don’t want to get too close, I’m might be contagious,” I croaked.

  But he kept on coming, ignoring my warning, moving with the confidence of a stallion. I wasn’t sure what I expected him to do, but at the same time, I craved whatever it was. My body tightened, already anticipating his touch—then he stopped at the nearby table and grabbed a set of towels from the surface.

  Oh.

  He braced his legs apart and began drying his hair as I watched him. In truth, I don’t know if I could have pulled my eyes away if I tried. He was incredibly attractive, maybe even more so because he was all wet, and I was too damned tired to stop myself.

  “If you’re sick, why are you here?”

  I tucked my hair behind my ear and leaned against the doorframe. “Because I have work to do.”

  He dropped the towel to his neck and leaned against the counter. “It’ll still be here on Monday.”

  “Yeah.” I shifted my weight to the other foot, slightly turned on by his deep, sultry voice. “But I like self-torture.”

  He grinned then. Something I hadn’t seen in weeks, and it caused a longing to form in my gut. “Me too.”

  I laughed. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

  I looked up to the ceiling. “’Cause I’m pretty sure you were here all night.” I swallowed, looking into his deep, brown eyes and remembering how good it had felt to be held against him.

  He didn’t look away. Just smiled at me. His lips barely lifted at the corners, as his eyes heated my whole body.

  I adjusted my stance and looked up to the ceiling again, finally breaking the stare that had left me steaming. “How much is it going to cost me?”

  He shook his head then placed the towel on the table. “Don’t worry about it.”

  I straightened, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose. “What do you mean?”

  He turned his back to me, crossing the room to the product floor. “It’s covered, Tuesday. It won’t cost you a thing.”

  I swallowed, watching him push through the plastic divider, and I held back the protest that settled on my tongue. He was doing me a favor, a huge one that I had no right to accept. I’d been nothing but rude to him all week, but he’d sent me home to sleep, while he stayed up all night fixing my roof… for free.

  I turned back to my office, stuffing my wallet back into my bag and feeling like the shittiest person in the world. The memory of the jumper cables smug asshole was now replaced with something different. A man who had come to my rescue more times than I could count on one hand.

  I worked hard that afternoon, filling orders, making products, and not giving the slightest thought to the roof. I even set a couple of batches of Sweater Weather bath bar to cure on my new shelves. But John was all I thought about. I was pretty sure he was flirting with me this afternoon, and I flirted back, which was equally concerning.

  I knew better than to get involved with someone I worked with, but this was worse; he was under my employment.

  I wasn’t positive, but I was pretty sure I could be charged with sexual harassment if this continued. The thought amused me. Me, the nerdy soap maker with too much hair, harassing the hot construction worker who could make a living doing photo shoots for calendars. I grinned and set the double boiler to the top of the range, and then began measuring ingredients for lip balm.

  By the end of the day, I’d replenished my stock of Cream In My Coffee, Kiss You All Over, and Lemonade Girl. It felt good getting some products on the shelves, and in spite of my sore throat, I wasn’t feeling half bad once I got into it.

  When I placed the full boxes of product on the shelves, I noticed for the first time the evidence of my temper. Little nicks in the maple wood from where I’d slammed it on the counter last night. My stomach tightened, as visions of John’s arms wrapped around my waist entered my thoughts. He’d left hours earlier, so why had he come back that night? I looked over my shoulder in the direction of the front room. He’d stayed up all night, drenched on top of the roof—for me. Aside from Becky, I wasn’t sure if anyone had gone to such trouble for me before. Ever.

  Chapter FOURTEEN

  Tuesday

  The whole next week was uneventful. I worked in back, catching up on my orders and replenishing product, while John and his crew made good progress on the store. But when I came to work the following Monday, John was sitting on the tailgate of his truck in the parking lot. Alone.

  I’d never seen him just sitting there before, and my eyes immediately scanned the front of the shop, looking for something wrong. But everything looked normal. Better than normal. The shop was starting to take shape. The siding, which had been splintered and broken only weeks before, was now sanded, painted a crisp white, and framing a set of windows where I could see Eddie in the back room prepping the walls for paint. I pulled into my habitual spot by the dumpsters, shifted to park, and looked over at John.

  He smiled at me. That adorable grin that was getting harder and harder to resist. He pushed off the side of his truck and walked toward me, setting at least a dozen butterflies loose in my stomach. He was wearing his usual jeans and t-shirt; the jeans cut low, the t-shirt tight enough to show off his broad chest. And his face. His face was clean-shaven and wore a smile as sweet as a child. But he didn’t stop at my window as I’d expected; he walked around the side of my truck, opened the passenger door, and lifted the box of donuts from the seat to climb in beside me.

  I didn’t move, just looked at him then back to the shop. “What are you doin
g? What happened?”

  He took a donut from the box and took a bite. “We’re going to pick out flooring.”

  I was confused, and it took me a minute to understand. The way he said it seemed so intimate, not like an employee to an employer, but something more. Something closer. “I thought we already did that?”

  He shrugged and glanced out the window. “I have an idea, but I thought you’d like to pick it out in person.”

  I swallowed. Mostly because I really wanted to lick the bits of sugar from his bottom lip. I couldn’t do that. No matter how tempting it was. I shook my head to clear it and turned to look at the front of the store. “Why aren’t we taking your truck?”

  My eyes shifted to his brand new F150—one I was sure had air conditioning that didn’t require rolling down the window.

  “Eddie needs to go to the dump later.”

  My brows furrowed, but I nodded anyway. This was a bad idea. I could feel it all the way to my toes, but how could I explain the reason? “Put your seatbelt on,” I said, then I shifted to reverse, pretending not to notice him watching me as I pulled out of the parking lot.

  He directed me to the freeway a couple miles away, programed the address into my phone, but after that, we didn’t speak. This was the first I’d been alone with him since the storm, and I wasn’t sure what to say. Every time he’d walked through the back room this week, my heart would constrict uncomfortably. And now, sitting so close, it was doing it again. But worse.

  “Are you sure you don’t want one?” he asked, holding a glazed donut under my nose.

  It was the third time he’d offered, and I shook my head. “No thanks.” I turned my gaze back to the road.

  He braced his back against the upholstery and turned to stare at me. “Now that I think about it, you bring these in every morning, yet I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat one.”

  “So?” I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, wondering where he was going with this.

  “Why do you do it? Why go to the trouble?” He wasn’t laughing now; he wasn’t smiling either. He was looking at me dead serious. As if this were a mystery he was determined to figure out.

  I shifted in my seat, feeling slightly uncomfortable. “Bribery.” I smiled a little. “I figure if I treat you guys well enough, you’ll work harder.”

  His brows furrowed. “That’s what you’re paying us for.”

  I grabbed one of my pigtails and began twisting it with my figures. He looked offended, and that’s not what I meant to do at all. “I know.”

  He looked up at the ceiling then back at me again. “There’s only one thing we can do to make this right.” He paused. “You’re going to have to eat one.”

  I shook my head, not understanding his meaning, but then he held it up to my mouth, and I started to laugh. “How does that make any sense?”

  “Because I’ve been eating your donuts, and you haven’t, so if you eat one, I’ll feel better.”

  “But I don’t even like donuts.”

  He made a face and leaned farther back against the door. “Everyone likes donuts.”

  “I don’t, I swear. They’re processed and disgusting.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You must be joking.”

  “I’m not,” I said, hardly able to keep my face serious.

  He sat up straighter, took a glazed donut from the box, and held it to my mouth. “Take a bite.”

  I turned my head and shoved his hand away. “No,” I said with a laugh.

  “Take a bite, and I’ll leave you alone.”

  I glanced over at him, glaring playfully. “There’s a name for this, you know.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, intervention.”

  “You think I need an intervention because I won't take a bite of your donut?”

  He shrugged, but the playful grin was almost my undoing.

  Without saying a word, I opened my mouth. The action was instinctive, something I would have done had it been an argument with Becky, but I immediately regretted it. John was not Becky, and I shouldn’t expect him to feed me. But right when I was about to close it again, crisp, sweet icing hit my tongue. My breath hitched in my throat and I bit down, filling my mouth with the warm, soft pastry.

  The donut was better than I remembered, buttery, and delicate. Then his thumb gently brushed across my lower lip, and my stomach came alive with tiny flutters. I didn’t dare look over at him. It was such a slight touch, one that could have been on accident if it hadn’t lingered a bit too long. He pulled his hand away, stopping for a second before sucking the sugar from his fingers. I forced myself to swallow.

  The whole mood in the cab changed in a second. We’d gone from playfulness and laughter, to serious and… And I didn’t want to admit what this was.

  “Did you like it?” His voice was low and caused my stomach to tighten all over.

  I shook my head. “Not one bit.”

  Siri’s voice broke the silence, guiding me to our destination and making me relax a bit. No matter how good it felt, or how much I wanted John, I couldn’t let this happen. I kept my eyes locked straight ahead, focused on the instructions coming from my phone and the life I’d been building for years.

  Chapter FIFTEEN

  John

  She walked ahead of me through the parking lot, her pigtails swaying against her back. Her overalls much too large, and her cheeks flushed as red as her lips. Yet she could have been the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life.

  Inviting her along had been a last minute decision, one I was pretty sure was a mistake. But when her eyes met mine in front of the shop, eyes as bright as the sun, I couldn't resist.

  I pulled a flatbed from the front of the warehouse and gestured for her to go ahead of me. She wasn’t the type of girl I normally went for, and I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do about it.

  Actually… that was a lie. I knew exactly what I wanted to do about it, but I couldn’t. Not while I was under her employment anyway.

  My brows furrowed as I followed behind her. She was a mystery to me—witty, beautiful, and a hard worker. The fact that I wanted her made me feel like shit. I wanted her for selfish reasons—because the tension between us was insane, because every time we touched she melted, but mostly, because she made me forget. Forget about the fear that took hold of my stomach, forget about the man who still gave me nightmares to this day.

  But in the short amount of time we’d known each other, I was sure of two things. One, she wasn’t a woman you wanted; she was a woman you kept. And two, in spite of her confident exterior, there was a part of her that was fragile. The part of her that lost it in the back room, a piece that cried alone in the dark.

  We made it to the flooring aisle before she finally turned to face me, her head slightly tilted, eyes wide, and lips parted. “Wow,” she said, taking in the various wood, marble, and slate that were stacked three stories high.

  Her excitement caused warmth to spread across my chest. “You have a lot to choose from, that’s for sure.”

  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 s
poke 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—all different.”

  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 stopped at 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.”