Waiting for Tuesday: Suspicious Hearts Book Two Read online

  Waiting For Tuesday

  A Suspicious Heart Novel

  Taylor Sullivan

  Contents

  1. Chapter ONE

  2. Chapter TWO

  3. Chapter THREE

  4. Chapter FOUR

  5. Chapter FIVE

  6. Chapter SIX

  7. Chapter SEVEN

  8. Chapter EIGHT

  9. Chapter NINE

  10. Chapter TEN

  11. Chapter ELEVEN

  12. Chapter TWELVE

  13. Chapter THIRTEEN

  14. Chapter FOURTEEN

  15. Chapter FIFTEEN

  16. Chapter SIXTEEN

  17. Chapter SEVENTEEN

  18. Chapter EIGHTEEN

  19. Chapter NINETEEN

  20. Chapter TWENTY

  21. Chapter TWENTY-ONE

  22. Chapter TWENTY-TWO

  23. Chapter TWENTY-THREE

  24. Chapter TWENTY-FOUR

  25. Chapter TWENTY-FIVE

  26. Chapter TWENTY-SIX

  27. Chapter TWENTY-SEVEN

  28. Chapter TWENTY-EIGHT

  29. Chapter TWENTY-NINE

  30. Chapter THIRTY

  31. Chapter THIRTY-ONE

  32. Chapter THIRTY-TWO

  33. Chapter THIRTY-THREE

  34. Chapter THIRTY-FOUR

  35. Chapter THIRTY-FIVE

  36. Chapter THIRTY-SIX

  37. Chapter THIRTY-SEVEN

  38. Chapter THIRTY-EIGHT

  About the Author

  Also by Taylor Sullivan

  Copyright © 2016 by Taylor Sullivan

  Cover Designer: Imagination UnCOVERED

  Cover Photo: Elovich

  Back cover photo: Vision Photography

  Editor: Vivid Words Editing

  Proofer: The Editing Hall

  Formatter: Imagination UnCOVERED

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  To my family. The ones I live for, dream with, and who make life an endless adventure. I love you all.

  Chapter ONE

  Tuesday

  I moved the mass of hair from my face and pushed myself to the back of the closet. My heart was beating like a drum, but my room looked exactly the same. Desk covered with invoices and partially packed orders, shabby chic furniture from my favorite secondhand shop, and shelves perfectly organized with Simply Tuesday’s products. But there was one slight difference. Today there was a man in my bed. A man I both remembered and didn’t remember at the same time. His head was barely visible beneath my over-stuffed pillows, but his body was large, naked, and sprawled across the entirety of my queen-sized mattress. I anchored my glasses to my forehead with my thumb and tried to think. He was facing in the opposite direction now, but all he had to do was roll over and he’d see me. Be eye to eye with the crazy woman he slept with last night.

  Crap. What was wrong with me? I didn’t sleep with men I didn’t know. I didn’t sleep with anyone! How the hell had this happened?

  Whiskers stopped at the open door and tilted his head, his large puffy face giving me a look that said he thought I’d lost my mind.

  Him.

  The cat that was in love with his own shadow. He made his way to the back of the closet, purring as though he didn’t have a care in the world, while I tried to figure out how to get myself out of this mess.

  Clips of last night began playing in my mind like a film, and I pressed my head into the wall. The launch party with Parker Studios, too many glasses of wine, and the stranger with the perfect ass. The ass that was now naked in my bed.

  I forced myself farther into the shadows and picked up my phone. I needed to text Becky. Crazy Becky! The Becky who always got me into trouble.

  Me: Are you awake?

  I knew the answer before I pressed send, but I didn’t care. I needed my best friend. Needed her to tell me to calm down. Needed her to help with a plan—and remind me what the hell his name was.

  Becky: I am NOW. What happened with Mr. Hottie with the body?

  I swallowed. She knew.

  The phone buzzed with an incoming call but I rejected it.

  Me: Can’t talk. He’s still here. I’m in the closet.

  Becky: In the closet? Why are you in the closet?

  Me: Yes. Closet. Why did you let me leave with him last night?

  Becky: I didn’t LET you do anything. Why are you in the closet, Day?

  I shook my head and took a deep breath. How was I supposed to answer that? I was being unfair. She wasn’t my mother, my keeper, or anything of the sort—but I felt vulnerable and stupid… so stupid.

  I looked down at my phone to text a response, to explain my fight or flight reaction to waking up in bed with a stranger, to explain that my response had obviously been to fly—because I didn’t even remember how I got in the closet—but then a flash of movement shifted in my peripheral vision and I sat up straighter. I put my phone on the ground, pulled a shirt from its hanger, and dragged it over my head. He was awake.

  More buzzing sounded from my phone, but I couldn’t move. Nor did I want to. My eyes were transfixed on the man I knew I’d slept with last night. The first in over a year. Since Ryan.

  He looked around the room, presumably looking for me, and I held my breath. He was beautiful—perfect actually—almost too perfect. He had the type of body that happened only after long hours at the gym. I normally stayed away from men like that, yet somehow he had come home with me last night; somehow we’d ended up naked in my bed.

  He pulled on his jeans, muttered something under his breath that I couldn’t understand, and grabbed his shoes off the floor. I knew I was running out of time. He was probably wondering where I was. Probably wanting another round of whatever we did last night, but I couldn’t even remember it. How was I supposed to know if I wanted to do it again?

  Oh God! How would I face him again? How would I get out of this fucking closet and not look like the girl who was sitting in the back of her closet? I sucked in a long breath and pulled my knees up to my chest. I found the braid of feathers in my hair and twirled them between my fingers. They were supposed to bring calmness and peace, but I didn’t feel calm at that moment. I felt rather crazy actually. Crazy and naked. I would have laughed if I wasn’t terrified he’d hear me, a deep maniacal laugh, fitting of a girl sitting in the back of her own closet.

  More buzzing sounded from my phone, and I glanced down to see three messages waiting from Becky.

  Becky: Why are you in the closet, Day?

  Becky: Answer me.

  Becky: I’m calling the cops.

  Shit!

  Me: Don’t call the cops!

  Me: I’m fine.

  I stared at the screen while I waited for her response.

  Becky: WTF? Why are you in the closet?

  Me: I’m hiding in here.

  Becky: Why?

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head. No freaking clue.

  Mr. Hottie disappeared from view and I knew I had to go out there.

  Me: I have to go. I’ll call you back.

  I put the phone on the floor, smoothed my hair back from my face, and pushed myself up from the floor.

  Quick like a Band-Aid. Just step out there, pretend you’ve been here the whole time. Easy as pie.

  But when I came out of the closet, he was gone. I took a few calming breaths and peeked around the corner to the bathroom—he wasn’t there either. My
shoulders relaxed and I let out a deep sigh.

  “Okay, deep breaths.” I looked into the hall leading to the living room. “Pretend you were using the bathroom. Say, Hi, Mr. Hott―” Shit! What was his fucking name?

  I clenched my jaw, balled my hands at my sides, and headed to the living room. He wasn’t there either. He also wasn’t in the kitchen, dining room, or guest bath either.

  Oh. My. God.

  I ran to the window and pulled down the blinds. There he was. My shoeless one night stand, practically running down the pathway to the front gate. He still had no shirt on, his pants were unbuttoned, and Mrs. Sanders was there to see the whole thing. She stood frozen in shock, hose in hand, watering her gardenias as she did every morning, then slowly turned to face my window.

  I flattened my back against the wall, knowing my reputation had been permanently tainted, and let my body sink to the floor. I pulled my glasses from my face and set them to the ground. He was doing the walk of shame in front of the little old lady who called me baby, who baked cookies for my birthday—and gossiped to every neighbor in a one-mile radius…

  He was leaving without saying goodbye.

  I shoved my fingers through my hair and closed my eyes. This was the first time I’d had sex in thirteen months, and I didn’t even remember his name. A slow rumble began in the pit of my stomach then grew, until a mixture of laughter and tears escaped my parted mouth. I gripped my aching skull and began rubbing slow circles at my temples with my thumbs.

  His hasty departure was probably for the best. I didn’t have time for complications. Didn’t have time for sex, dating, or men who walked out of my apartment without shoes.

  Then why did it hurt so damned much?

  I planted my palms firmly on the ground and forced myself to stand. Simply Tuesday’s would open in three months. Three months! A relationship was the last thing I needed. I chewed my bottom lip and paced the floor. Becky thought I was jaded, but it wasn’t true. I’d been building my Etsy business for three years, and my hard work was about to pay off. I didn’t need a man around distracting me—but walking out without saying goodbye?

  “Grrrr…” Part of me wanted to chase after him, stand in the middle of the street, and demand an answer. I was a beautiful, intelligent woman. A good catch. Sure, my hair was a little wild, style a little hippie, but it only added to my character. Certainly nothing to be embarrassed about… Though, maybe he’d seen me crawl into the closet. My eyes widened as I walked to the bathroom. Yeah. He must have seen me. He must’ve thought I was a total nut job!

  Something crinkled under my foot and I bent down to pick up a condom wrapper. “Thank fucking Christ!” Even though I’d been too drunk to think clearly, at least I was of sound enough mind to use protection. I flicked on the shower, yanked my top over my head, and stepped under the spray, determined not to let one stupid mistake ruin my day. A man whose name I still couldn't remember.

  Twenty minutes later, toothbrush in my mouth, and hair still damp from my shower, pounding sounded at the front door.

  “Tuesday, open up, it’s me!”

  Becky.

  I spit into the sink, rinsed my mouth under the faucet, and then pulled my tunic over my head.

  “Hey,” I said, yanking open the front door.

  She hurried inside, not even waiting for me to move before she peered over my shoulder. “Is he still here? Were you guys in the shower?” Her black hair was piled on top of her head, and her light blue eyes were wild with worry.

  “No.” I laughed. “He’s gone.”

  “Shit.” She hit my shoulder. “Then why didn’t you call me back? I was worried about you.”

  I bit my lip and gestured to my room with my thumb. “Sorry, my phone―” I pinched the bridge of my nose and moved to the kitchen. “It’s still in the closet.”

  I pulled my blender out from the lower cabinet and waited for her to follow. “I’ve just never been walk of shamed before. It kinda threw me.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she hopped up on the counter and grabbed an orange from the basket. “What do you mean walk of shamed?”

  “Well, when I came out of the closet he wasn’t there, and―”

  “Why were you in the closet, again?”

  I lifted my shoulders. “I don’t know. I was scared, I guess. He was naked, and you know that’s not something I wake up to every morning. It freaked me out.”

  Becky sucked in a breath, ready to give me one of her infamous lectures, but I held my hand up to stop her. I lifted my chin to the front window. “After I couldn’t find him in the apartment, I looked out the window. There he was, clear as day, walking out of the front gate half naked. He didn’t even have his shoes on, Becks!”

  Becky frowned. “I would’ve never expected that from Austin.”

  “Austin!” I hit my head, finally remembering. “Do you know him?”

  “Just a little. I’ve seen him around the set a few times. I think he’s a model for Frederick Beck.”

  Visions of Austin’s perfect ass flashed through my mind, and I nodded. Made sense. “How could you let me go home with a guy like that? A model, Becky? Do I look like the type of girl who sleeps with models?”

  “Listen, I tried to get you to leave with me, but you said you were having a good time. You looked like you were having a good time, and Austin said he’d call Uber when you were ready to go. Little did I know his plan was to join you.” She smiled then and quirked one eyebrow. “So… was he any good?”

  I shrugged. “That’s the thing. I don’t even remember. The first guy I’ve slept with in thirteen months, and I don’t even know if I enjoyed it or not. How sad is that?”

  Becky narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. “If you don’t remember, then how do you know?”

  “I know.” I gave her a hard stare. “I found the condom wrapper.” I yanked open the fridge, feeling frustrated all over again. “I feel like a slut.”

  She laughed. “How can you possibly be a slut? You haven’t had sex in a year and a half―”

  “Thirteen months,” I corrected.

  “Exactly,” Becky uttered. “And who cares if you’re a slut, anyway? There are lots of perfectly happy sluts in the world. It could be fun.”

  I laughed, grabbed a jar of chia seeds and added a couple of spoonfuls to the blender. “Like who?”

  “Ummm… Joey Tribbiani. Total slut.”

  “Yeah, well he’s a guy. Guys can be sluts and no one cares.”

  “Which is bullshit,” Becky muttered around a bite of orange. “But okay…” She looked up the ceiling, chewing. “All the women on Sex and the City.” She nodded. “Mrs. Roper. Blanche Devereaux,” she added with wide eyes and an equally wide grin.

  I narrowed my gaze. “Are you comparing me to one of the little old ladies from The Golden Girls?”

  She nodded and bit her lip.

  “Great. I’m like Joey Tribbiani and horny old ladies.”

  She shook her head. “The Sex and the City ladies aren’t old.”

  “Yeah but they live in New York, it’s different.” I slammed a handful of kale into the blender.

  “HA! We’re in L.A. Nice try!”

  I grinned at her, my mood lifting already. I could always count on Becky for that. To defuse the situation and make me realize life was way too short to take this seriously. I grabbed the bottle of Spirulina and twisted off the cap.

  “Are you making some of the green crap again?” Becky asked, not waiting for an answer before yanking open a cabinet door. “Don’t you have any bread? Chocolate? Anything?”

  “It’s a smoothie, and that’s where my bowls go. You should know that by now.”

  Becky was my best friend—more like a sister, actually. I spent every summer, every spring break of my childhood with her, and since finally settling back in the town where we’d met, she was the one person in the world who would know stuff like this. “Don’t you work today?” I asked, peeling a banana and adding it to the blender.

  �
�Yeah, in an hour.” She frowned and closed the door. “Nothing—I’ll have to drive-thru somewhere.”

  I rolled my eyes, knowing nothing I said would sway her from the artery clogging food she adored. “What time are you off? I’m meeting the contractor later this afternoon. I don’t want to go alone.”

  She jumped off the counter and grinned. “I’m off at three.” She grabbed another orange before heading for the front door. “And I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Chapter TWO

  Tuesday

  “Well, this is it,” I said with bated breath.

  It was just past four in the afternoon, still slightly chilly with the onset of fall, and I stood on tiptoes peering into the windows of the run-down building that would soon be my new store. The twelve-hundred-square-foot space didn’t look like much, but it was my everything. My life savings, my reputation, my future—broken windows and all.

  Becky pushed herself from the side of my truck and came to stand beside me. Just as she’d been doing every day since second grade, when she was the biggest girl in class, and I was the hippie girl destined to be made fun of.

  “It’s adorable, but why does it look like a bakery?”

  “’Cause it was. A long time ago…”

  I turned to the dirty windows and cleared a patch big enough to see through with the heel of my hand. The building had been a godsend, nestled in its own small parking lot like a little gingerbread house in the middle of a big city—but it was so worn down it was hard to see past all the mess. I closed my eyes, pressed my back into the warped wooden siding, and took in the sounds of rushing traffic as people made their way home from work.

  “Do you think this is a mistake, Becky? I mean, it’s all the space I’ll ever need, but―”

  She touched my arm interrupting me. “Tuesday—it’s perfect.”

  I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I hadn’t realized until that moment, but I desperately needed to hear those words. My own mother didn’t approve. And even though I wanted this more fiercely than anything I’d ever wanted in my life, her fears always gave me pause. “Did I tell you it has a kitchen?”