Turnaround Read online

  TURNAROUND

  by

  Cassandra Carr

  COPYRIGHT 2014 by Cassandra Carr

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Published by C-Squared Publishing

  Cover by Cassandra Carr

  Contact information:

  [email protected]

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Turnaround

  (Red Hot Valentine #6)

  James hung another bunch of black balloons where they wouldn’t be constantly in his way while he mixed drinks at The Ale House’s annual “We Hate Valentine’s Day” party. The irony of having to work this particular gig when he actually loved this holiday made him shake his head, but work was work.

  Nice to have a day where it’s actually encouraged to tell your loved ones you care. Not enough of that in today’s world.

  He knew he sounded like a stodgy old codger, but simply because he was thirty-three and still single didn’t mean he thought love sucked. It was more a matter of finding the right girl. James didn’t want to marry just anybody. His parents had been a great example to him and his sister and James refused to settle, even if that meant he stayed single. Doing the whole flowers-and-chocolate thing was often derided by other men, but he loved doing all that stuff. His friends sometimes made fun of him for it but, hey, most of them were still single too, so he ignored them.

  “Hey, James,” the bar manager, Mick, said. “You got a copy of the drink specials?”

  James held up the black sheet of paper with the annoying white script font. His graphic designer sensibilities wanted to beg those around him to stop using that particular eye-bleeding combination, but this wasn’t his primary job, where people might care what he thought of a design, and he needed this second job–for now–so he kept his mouth shut. Why can’t everyone else see how hard it is to read? Ugh.

  “Yep. All set.” The specials, in keeping with the theme, were called things like Broken Heart and Love Hurts. Since they were expecting a crowd predominantly made up of women, most of the ingredients were geared toward them too–a lot of fruit juices and frozen drinks.

  Mick called out, “Opening doors,” and immediately a stream of people burst into the cavernous space. Here in Austin, Texas, the temperature was in the 70s during the day and a little cooler at night so waiting outside wasn’t a big deal, but people sure seemed excited to get started on their own bitter version of “celebrating.”

  They kept James hopping for the first half-hour or so. He was turning back toward the bar after using the blender when he spotted her. The slippery glass nearly fell from his hand and strawberry daiquiri dripped down the side and slithered over his fingers. She watched it and licked her lips.

  Oh mercy.

  He handed the drink, still thankfully mostly full, to the woman who’d ordered it and then grabbed a towel. Focusing his attention on the lovely vision before him, James asked, “What can I get for you?” Brilliant opening salvo, dude. Sure, it was his job, but he could’ve thought of something more witty than that if his brains hadn’t been scrambled by her sudden appearance.

  She was clad all in black, so likely an enthusiastic attendee of this party, but there was something in her eyes that said maybe she wasn’t a lost cause. Bright red hair tumbled to her shoulders and was set off by her black, satiny top. Her skin was pale; her face dotted with freckles. His gut told him, despite her apparent distaste for Valentine’s Day, he needed to know this woman better.

  She tilted her head at the drink specials menu on the bar in front of her. “I’m not much for these fancy drinks. How about a Stoli and cranberry?”

  “A girl after my own heart.” Shit, I wonder if she won’t like me saying that? But a small smile appeared and he set about making her drink. “I’m James. You know, in case you need anything else.”

  “Becca.”

  “Well, Becca, I hope to see you again.”

  Dropping a ten on the bar, she smiled. “When I get thirsty, I’m sure you will.” She turned away. James was unsure if his no-doubt lame attempt at flirting had annoyed her, considering the reason she’d come to The Ale House. He didn’t have time to reflect on that though, as the bar got busier, as more Valentine’s haters turned up.

  Becca approached the bar once more and James nearly ran over one of the other guys to get to her. The man smirked. Whatever, dude. You’re too clueless to even recognize a good woman when you see her.

  “Parched?”

  She laughed. “Something like that.”

  “Stoli and cranberry?”

  “Wow. Considering how many people are in this place tonight, I’m impressed.”

  “I pay attention.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Clearly you’re good at your job.”

  “This is actually a second job. I do graphics for a marketing company during the day.”

  For some reason he had a compulsion to let her know he was more than a guy slinging drinks at a hole-in-the-wall bar. There was nothing wrong with that–it was an honest living–but Becca looked like a career woman and he wanted her to realize he was on the same path.

  “Really? Which one? I’m in PR for Computer Technology Consultants.”

  “McBain Group,” he answered, naming one of the area’s largest agencies.

  “Huh. Great company. I’m surprised we’ve never met. Austin is a surprisingly small town.”

  He wanted to stay to talk to her more, but Mick was giving him the evil eye. On a whim he pulled a business card out of his wallet and handed it to her.

  “I have to get back to the masses, but I’d love to hear more about you. Call me.” Considering tonight’s event, asking her out could well be a waste of time, but he hoped not. “As friends. No pressure.”

  She nodded slowly. “What do I owe you?”

  “It’s on me. I hope you have a good night.”

  “It’s looking up.”

  Mick cleared his throat behind him and he rolled his eyes in response. Becca smirked before moving back into the throngs of people.

  James tried to track her through the rest of the night, but it was difficult since the bar was packed. Who knew this many people hated Valentine’s Day? He’d only been working at The Ale House for about six months, ever since his mom’s auto accident had forced him to seek additional income. She had Medicaid, but her injuries had been extensive, requiring daily home care and physical therapy, much of which wasn’t covered by her insurance.

  At first James had tried to pay for it out of his savings, but the funds had quickly dwindled. His mom felt terrible about him working two jobs but he loved her. What was he going to do? Deny her the help she needed? His dad had died two years earlier of a sudden heart attack and his sister Michele lived in Houston with her husband and four kids. She sent money and visited when she could, but the onus was on James.

  His phone buzzed and he smiled. Probably Mom. Her ears must be burning. It would be a couple of minutes before he could check the phone, but it was more than likely her. She checked in three or four times a day now so he wouldn’t worry, usually over text so she didn’t disturb him.

  When he was able to steal into the brea
k room, he found he was right.

  Going to bed. Happy Valentine’s Day, hon. Don’t work too hard.

  James quickly thumbed back: I’m not. Sleep well. Pocketing the phone, he went back out front.

  When he searched her out, James found Becca staring off into space, frowning. He hated seeing her unhappy; he hated seeing all these women so bitter. They all appeared ready to give up on love. Not for the first time James wished people paid more attention to their relationships. Several of his friends were already on their second or even third marriages. James had no interest in that. When he proposed, it would be forever. That probably explained his single status, but he’d rather be single and looking for a woman to love than married and miserable.

  She turned toward him and he nodded, not sure if he should do or say anything more. This whole not knowing how to talk to women thing was new to James, and he blamed it entirely on this stupid party. Normally he didn’t have this much trouble relating to women. Becca smiled and held up her still half-full glass. Damn. Of course, if she drank faster he might have to suggest a cab. He hated doing that. Few people were happy to have their keys taken away.

  James sighed. Batting a black streamer out of his way, he scooted back behind the bar and took up his position, ready to lubricate the masses.

  *****

  Becca watched James work out of the corner of her eye. Even though he was mainly filling orders and making change, it was infinitely more interesting than suffering through yet another reenactment of her friend Annie's divorce. She loved this whole anti-Valentine’s Day thing The Ale House had going on, but if she had to hear how Annie’s now-ex-husband Chad had tried to take her Monet print with him when he left her one more time, it was going to be eighteen times too many.

  There is not enough vodka on the planet for this.

  She’d discovered The Ale House four years ago when another friend, ironically now blissfully married, had invited her to the first-ever “We Hate Valentine’s Day” party. Since The Ale House was situated in Austin’s crowded Sixth Street area and she wasn’t a big partier, Becca didn’t often get down this way, but every year on Valentine’s Day she dressed in all black and came to commiserate with the other unlucky-in-loves.

  James’ card was tucked into the pocket of her slacks, and she fingered it now, as Annie continued to rave. In some ways Becca was oddly jealous of her friend. At least she had a relationship to stir up some emotion, even if it was mostly steeped in rage. Becca was nearly thirty-five and had, sadly, had only one boyfriend in her life, a guy she’d dated briefly in college. She wasn’t ugly–she knew that much—but after watching her friends either get treated like shit or falling madly in love only to get divorced a few years later, she’d become picky.

  “Hey!”

  Becca whirled around. James stood there, a bottle of water in his hand.

  She smiled. Saved by the water. “I’ve still got a drink, but thanks.”

  James leaned in and shouted in her ear, “It’s not for you. I’m on break. Wanna get some air?” He jerked his head toward the front door.

  There were plenty of people out on the streets at this time of night so, after introducing him to Annie, handing over her drink for safekeeping and telling her friend where they were going, she stepped outside with him. As soon as the door closed the noise level decreased by about a thousand percent and Becca exhaled.

  “So is this a good night for you or are people in too shitty of a mood to tip well?” Nice going, why don’t you ask him about his annual salary at McBain? None of your business how much money he’s making.

  James shrugged. “It’s a decent night. More than a regular Thursday but we also bust our asses, so it evens out.”

  Standing this close to James, Becca could see that even without heels she had a couple of inches on him. That wasn’t surprising, since she was five-ten.

  “You know, for a long time I wouldn’t date someone who was shorter than me.” Becca clapped her hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean, I don’t think this is a date or anything. And I don’t feel that way now. And you’re not short.”

  James grinned. “Good to know.” He took a sip of his water. “I was curious about where you were going with that.”

  “Yeah, well.” Her face heated. Yeah, you’re definitely impressing him with your sparkling conversation.

  “No biggie. I can’t do anything about my height.”

  “I wish I could be that Zen about mine.”

  “But you’re beautiful. So what if you’re taller than some guys? If they don’t have the ego to handle something like that they don’t deserve you.” James’ ears and cheeks pinkened, and Becca found herself charmed by the prospect they were both tripping over their words.

  Becca laughed. “With lines like that I’m surprised you’re still single. Wait, you are single, right?”

  “I am.” A small smile crept up from the corners of his mouth, and it was hard not to stare at his full lips. James was clad in a black t-shirt, with the name of the bar on the front, and blue jeans. His hair was dark brown and, from what she could see in the light in front of the place, his eyes were too. Short, dark and handsome. I’m okay with that.

  “So how long is your break?” Yep, witty conversation you’ve got going here, Bec.

  “About fifteen minutes. Barely long enough to get out of the nuthouse for a bit.”

  “Is it usually this crowded? You said this was busier than a normal Thursday night, but what about weekend? I don’t come in except for the Valentine’s Day thing.”

  “You should. Usually the vibe is mellower. I only work on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights, though. Not that you can’t or shouldn’t come here if I’m not around.”

  I’m so glad I’m not the only one babbling like an idiot.

  James huffed out a breath and glanced back at the bar. “Look, I really want to take you out, but the restriction is it would have to be when I’m not working. That doesn’t leave a whole lot of free time. For now I need this job. Hopefully not forever.” Stress lines appeared between his eyebrows and Becca wondered what caused them. Was he thinking about the reason he needed extra income? He didn’t strike her as the frivolous type, so it must be something more.

  “I’d like to see you too, and I’m totally fine with whenever. Obviously I work during the day like you, but my schedule at night is pretty flexible.”

  “Okay, cool. Well, look at your calendar and give me a call to set something up.”

  “I will.”

  He indicated the door. “Shall we?”

  Becca let James lead her back into the bar. He waved and resumed his duties and she fought her way through the crowd, looking for Annie. Where the hell was she? Finally Becca spotted her tucked into one of the booths with about five other women, lost in animated conversation. Dammit. More bitching. I don’t think I can take this anymore.

  But she couldn’t leave without saying good-bye to Annie, so she persevered until she was near enough to her friend to indicate she was tired and leaving. The knowing smile on Annie’s face annoyed her. What the hell did she think we did out there? Have sex against a wall? Eesh.

  It took her another few minutes to extricate herself, and then to wave to James on her way out. Becca chuckled as she climbed into her car. Who would’ve thought I’d go to an “I Hate Valentine’s Day” party and get a date out of it?

  Chapter Two

  James didn’t have much time to reflect on meeting Becca until he took his lunch on Friday. After leaving his office and strolling down to one of those “urban parks” meant specifically for working stiffs like him to enjoy on their brief respites, he grabbed some food from a taco truck parked, along with several others, alongside it. With his meal in hand, he secured a bench and found himself smiling as he ate. He liked Becca. These days he mostly met women through his work at the bar, and they weren’t his type, but she’d mentioned she only ever came to The Ale House for the party. Hopefully that meant she was over her “need to be out all
weekend” phase and could enjoy some of the same things he did.

  I sound like a total stick-in-the-mud. James snorted.

  As he people-watched after eating, his phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number, but it was a local one.

  “Hello?”

  “James? This is Becca.”

  “Hi, how are you?”

  “Relaxing on my lunch hour. I’m guessing you are too by the traffic noise in the background.”

  “Yeah, about to head back. What’s up?”

  “I, um, I wanted to see if you were interested in getting together for brunch on Sunday? I know you’ll be coming off three straight nights of work—”

  “Sunday’s fine.”

  “Oh. Well, good. I’ll send you a text with the details. Is noon okay for you?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Okay then. I need to go. See you Sunday.”

  James pocketed his phone and then stretched his arms out along the top of the bench. Life was looking up.

  When Sunday came James was up by ten a.m. He’d worked until about two-thirty, but wanted plenty of time to get ready and also to find the restaurant, one he wasn’t familiar with. Becca had started texting him Friday afternoon, offering up little tidbits here and there; some personal, some less so. He’d exchanged his own information, and now, as he went over what he knew about her, realized he wasn’t as nervous as he normally was before a first date. He felt as if he already knew Becca, at least somewhat, which took some of the pressure off, since he wouldn’t be reaching to come up with topics of conversation.

  Thankfully the restaurant wasn’t difficult to find and James arrived almost twenty minutes early. He had no idea what type of car Becca drove–their text conversations hadn’t gone into that–but he was afraid if he sat in the car to wait she might be seated in the restaurant doing the same thing, so he got out and went inside. A quick scan of the small bistro showed Becca had not arrived, and he was debating going back to his car when the hostess asked, “Can I help you?”