Freeing Tuesday (13 page)

Abby walks back into the kitchen so I drop my head close to her ear and watch as her body shudders when I speak. “I think the one I have in mind will do the job. It’s about nine inches and thick. It’s long enough to get deep inside there and do the job.”

She clicks her tongue off the roof of her mouth and shakes her head at me, “I think I need proof. I don’t want this nice, juicy turkey to dry out because we used a bad baster.”

“I could pull it out right now if you want proof.” She laughs but shakes her head and keeps her eyes trained on her hands.

“Do you need to stretch before you eat all this?” she whispers seductively.

“No, but you might.”

“I’ll get right on that.”

She smiles at me as she stretches her arms behind her back and sticks her chest out. Shamelessly, I drop my eyes to the perfectness that her chest is and clear my throat.

Fuck the turkey, no pun intended. The only thing I want to do right now is haul her back to her apartment and have my way with her. I want to worship every single inch of her body and mark her; make her mine so everyone knows. No, it doesn’t matter if everyone knows, but I plan on making
her
know. She grabs my attention when she starts speaking again and she points at the disgusting looking raw turkey in the sink that I forgot we were supposed to be stuffing. “The turkey needs basting soon, I don’t want it to go bad.”

“Let’s see…” her voice rumbles as I press my lips against her neck. “What else do we need to stuff this turkey? Maybe a few wet wipes and some string to tie it up so it doesn’t fall apart while you baste it?”

I groan at the thought of tying her up and having my way with her. This is my best friend, the only woman that I have ever kept around for more than a few good fucks. Even though I get her point of how this can go bad, I can’t think about that right now. Thinking about not having her around at all kills me and I don’t want any part of that. Ever.

“I don’t need wet wipes. I like to lick the juice off my fingers. The string might be a good idea. I don’t want it to get away from me when it falls apart.”

She looks down seriously and I think for a minute that I might have said the wrong thing but then she turns back to me and cocks her head. “Do you think we need to tenderize the meat? I know some people like it tender. Do you wanna beat it?”

“Nah," I say as I graze my finger over her exposed collarbone. “I’ll let you beat it. I might do it too hard.”

She shrugs, trying hard to bite back her laughter and turns back around to haul the turkey out of the sink and put it in the pan. “Hey, I don’t mind beating the meat. I’m pretty good at playing with the tenderizer. I guess if you plan on stuffing and eating it, I damn well plan on doing my own work to make it better.”

I feel my stomach drop when someone starts laughing behind me and all I can think about was our conversation this morning when she said she wanted to keep whatever this was between us under wraps for a bit. I can see her starting to shut herself down until Abby’s laughing turns into heaving as she tries to catch her breath and make words come out of her mouth.

“I… You…,” her hand slaps off her thigh as she bends forward and tries to contain herself.

“Did you break my wife or something? I hope not because I need her for things,” Jameson grins as he walks in with one of my favorite girls on his hip. Sophia instantly reaches out for me and I pull her into my arms and kiss her all over her squishy face.

“Beating the meat… Fucking wet wipes and juicy fingers,” Abby manages to get out as she slides down the wall and buries her head in her hands. Jameson looks at her like she’s crazy but you can still see that he thinks she holds the world in the palm of her hand.

I always thought he was crazy. Pining away over some chick he was with when he was a teenager. Seriously, who does that? When he told me they were back together I flat out told him he was crazy. Bat shit fucking crazy. No chick is worth that.

But, when I look back at Tuesday who is smiling at Sophia, telling her that her mom is crazy, I get it. I know that if it was Tuesday and I who went through the amount of shit that Jameson and Abby did, I would hope we would end up in the same spot that they are right now.

“What the hell are you flapping at the gums about, woman?”

“Dirty turkey jokes,” she sucks in a breath. “God damn you two and your dirty minds. I won’t be able to eat dinner now without thinking about one of you beating the meat!”

I breathe a little easier when she doesn’t say anything about the way I was leaned into Tuesday when we were teasing each other or the way I was touching her. How the hell does Tuesday expect me to keep whatever we’re doing to myself when all I want to do is stand on top of the world and shout it out?
 

Tuesday

I slide up onto the counter and out of everyone’s way while they hand out the birthday cake that Jameson blew the candles out on. Evan slides up beside me and nudges me with his massive shoulder. I nudge him back and laugh. It catches Jameson’s attention and he zeros in on us; his eyes flickering back and forth between us.

I see the question in his gaze so I wink at him and he shakes his head and wipes cake off of Sophia’s face. Even though this thing between Evan and I has just started and we haven't told anyone, I know Jameson knows somehow.

Evan rests his hand on the counter next to mine, his thumb just barely touching mine. I can feel the heat from his body radiating towards me and for the first time since I met these people, I want to escape. I want to escape into him. To feel the way I felt last night when I was alone with him. To feel like his woman instead of his friend.

I see his chest rise and fall out of the corner of my eye and I know he is as affected by being this close as I am. It makes me want to pull him to my apartment and make love to him. Scratch that, not make love. This isn’t a love situation. This will never be a love situation.

Izzy runs over and grabs Evan's hand, pulling him off the counter behind her. He winks at me as she pulls him towards her bedroom, babbling on about some new thing she just had to show him.

I stare at the empty door frame they just went through and jump when the sound of Jameson’s voice is beside me. He leans back against the counter and fold his arms over his chest.

“I wouldn’t get too cozy with him,” he says without lifting his eyes from the floor.

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said, don’t get too comfortable with him. He’ll get bored and drop you like he does everyone else.”

I lower my voice and glare at him, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He shrugs, “It’s the truth. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Shaking my head, I slide off the counter and head toward the door but I don’t make it further than the porch stairs before he’s on my heels.

“Tuesday, stop, I didn’t mean to piss you off. It’s just that I know Evan.”

I spin around and look up at him, my chest heaving, “From what I’ve heard, you never kept girls around for more than a night either so I wouldn’t be talking.”

“You’re right. I was like that and then I got Abby back and I wouldn’t do anything to fuck that up. Evan isn’t me though. He doesn’t want to change. He likes having different girls around all the time. He isn’t built for monogamy.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not asking for monogamy so we’re all good there,” I spit back at him.

“Good, because you won’t get it from him. He’s not a relationship kind of guy.”

“You’re kind of a dick, you know that, right?”

“What do you mean? I’m just trying to keep you from getting hurt.”

“I don’t plan on it getting far enough for either one of us to get hurt. And you’re a dick because that’s your brother.” I yell and point towards the house, “You should be standing up for him, but instead you’re standing here practically telling me he’s a piece of shit that I shouldn’t waste my time with. That, in my book, makes you a dick.”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about Tuesday. I spent years cleaning up after him. Years of driving girls home when he got through using them. I don’t want to have to do that with you too.”

I turn and start to walk away but he grabs my shoulder and on instinct I turn and swing; my fist connects with his nose. I hear the splat and his hand shoots up to cover his face.

“Don’t fucking grab me you asshole,” I yell.
What the hell is it with people grabbing me lately?

“Christ, what is it with you girls punching me in the face?”

“Obviously, if you keep getting hit that should tell you something!” I notice Abby out of the corner of my eye trying hard to cover her laughter from the doorway. I stomp my way down the stairs and flip him off over my shoulder. “Your brother deserves so much better. Happy fucking birthday, asshole.”

I run into my apartment and when I get there I drop to the couch and bury my face in the back of it. I can hear the arguing outside but I don’t have the energy to get up and see what is going on. I love Jameson, I really do, but what Evan and I do is none of his business.

When my door swings open I realize that I didn’t lock it. For the first time in years, it wasn’t the first thing I did when I closed it. I’m too preoccupied in my fucking head to think about it but I know it’s Evan by the way his feet scuff across the floor.

I don’t lift my head when he stops beside me. I don’t know what to say or how the hell I’m supposed to explain why I just punched his brother in the face, so I just wrap my arms around my body and lay still.
 

Evan

“What the hell is wrong with you?" I hear Abby’s voice shriek from downstairs so I tell Izzy to stay in her room and run down the stairs. Jameson has his face covered with his hand and the blood is pouring out from behind it.

“What did you hit him for this time, Abby?”

She turns, looks at me and shakes her head, “I didn’t. Your woman did.”

“What did…?” I start to talk but stop when my mind wraps around what she says. There’s no denying it now. “What the hell did you do to her?” I growl.

Jameson looks from me to the ground but he doesn’t say anything and I immediately know it was something about me.

“You can either tell him and apologize or I’m going to hit you again and make sure your nose is broken," Abby threatens. I love that she isn’t afraid to put my brother in his place.

He sighs but goes on to tell me everything he said since Izzy hauled me out of the room. Everything, but the only thing I heard was “I’m your brother but I think you’re a piece of shit”.

“Are you fucking shitting me?” I yell. “For the first time, in a long fucking time, I have someone I actually like being with and you go and say shit like this! Fuck you, Jameson! If you fucked this up you’re going to be sporting more than a broken nose.”

“I don’t think it’s broken,” he says. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to see her get hurt.”

I brush past him but I just can’t let it go. I spin around, draw back and hit him in the nose. “It’s broken now and I don't plan on hurting her, you fucker!”

I push myself up the stairs and into her apartment. She’s got her face buried in the back of the couch and I hate seeing her like this. I hate knowing she’s upset because of me; even though I didn’t actually do anything.

I walk over, grab her arms and flip her over before straddling her hips and pinning her hands above her head in one swift movement. She lets out a little scream before I cut her off by slamming my lips against hers, coaxing her lips apart with my tongue.

I drag my fingers down her arm and wrap them around the back of her neck, arching it so my tongue can delve deeper into her mouth. When I pull back, we are both panting.

Her eyes lock onto mine and I grin.

“What was that for?” she asks.

Her forehead rests against mine as I run my hand down her neck and over her chest. Her nipples pebble under the thin shirt as I run my hand over them. “You. Standing up for me. For punching my brother in the face.”

“You saw that?”

“No, but I heard. So. Fucking. Hot," I groan against her lips.

“He was being a dick,” she whispers softly. “He shouldn’t talk about you like that.”

“I’m a big boy, I can handle it.”

Her head shakes back and forth, “He pissed me off by telling me I shouldn’t be with you.”

“Are you going to let him tell you what to do?” I ask as my lips skim across her jaw.

“Nobody tells Tuesday Weston what to do,” she says breathlessly and pushes me back so she can sit up. “I need to go. As much as I love it here I’m afraid if I stay I’m going to go over and hit him again.”

I laugh as I haul her off the couch and run my lips down her neck. “I think being hit twice in one day is enough. Go pack a bag you can stay with me.”

She freezes, “With you?”

My hands rest on the small of her back, pulling her into me. “I will sleep on the couch if you aren’t ready. You’re setting the pace here,” I say steadily. I have never given up control like this but I know that if I want Tuesday, it has to be on her terms and I’m oddly alright with that.