Turnaround (2 page)

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?”

Startled from his internal dialogue, he said,
“Uh, sure. I’m meeting a woman here. I don’t see her.”

“I can seat you and then bring her over if you’d
like, sir.”

James wasn’t used to being called “sir”. It was
weird. “That’s fine.”
Wait, is that fine? Will she be mad I didn’t wait in
the lobby? You’re acting like a weenie. Get it together.

The hostess seated him at a table where he could
easily see the door, and he perched on the edge of his chair. He’d never
psyched himself out like this before and wondered what was different about this
date, about Becca, and he was eager to find out.

She arrived about ten minutes later. By that
time he’d rearranged the entire table and was pretty sure the couple next to
him with their kids were looking at him as if he were crazy.

Becca sat after the hostess pulled out her
chair.
Dammit, I should’ve done that.
“Hi. Am I late?”

“Not at all. I wasn’t sure about traffic and
directions, so I left early.” He’d put on a pair of black twill pants and one
of the polo shirts he reserved for work since he hadn’t been sure how fancy the
restaurant was. It appeared he’d dressed pretty well, since she was clad in a
knee-length, bright blue dress. “You look lovely, by the way.”

“Thank you.” She opened her menu. “The French
toast is really good here. It’s those thicker slices, which I like better.”

“Me too,” he murmured.

They ordered and then made small talk for a bit.
James sensed she wanted to say something, but appeared to be working up the
courage. He was about to ask what was wrong when she looked away and bit her
lip before returning her gaze to his.

“Look, I need to level with you. We’re both adults.
I’m incredibly attracted to you and I like what I’ve learned so far about you,
but I don’t have a lot of experience with relationships. You know that saying,
‘always a bridesmaid, never a bride’? If you look it up, there’ll be a picture
of me next to it. I’ve been a bridesmaid nine times.
Nine.
” She fiddled
with her napkin for a moment, staring down at her plate, and James waited her
out. When she looked up once more her eyes were pools of hurt, of pain, but
also of longing. “I don’t know what to do or how to handle this. I’m freaked
out that I’m going to say or do something that’ll make you run.”

James smiled and reached over the table to grab
her hand. “I don’t scare easy. Besides, if there was an “always a groomsman,
never a groom” saying, it would’ve been about me. I walk into the tux store and
they treat me like a long-lost friend. I’m pretty sure I sent the owners to
Aruba two years ago when seven of my friends–I kid you not–got married in the
space of three months.” Her eyes widened and he chuckled. “Yeah, no one has me
beat for that record. I was in wedding hell. I love weddings,” he was quick to
reassure her. “But I hardly had time to change vests and ties before I was
walking down the aisle at another one. Our background in relationships actually
sounds pretty similar.”

“So we’re the blind leading the blind?” Becca
asked, and then laughed. “Now I don’t feel so bad.”

“You shouldn’t.”

The rest of their brunch passed easily after
that initial period of awkwardness. She tried to pay, but he waved her off.

She protested. “I asked
you
out.”

“You can get the next one.”
Please let there
be a next one.

Becca grinned. “Deal.”

They rose and walked outside.

Putting her hand on his forearm, Becca asked,
“Are you free this afternoon or do you have plans?”

“No plans.”

“Would you maybe want to go hang out in Zylker
Park? It’s a beautiful day and, well, I want to spend more time with you, if
you don’t mind.”

He grinned. “I don’t mind. That sounds really
nice. How about I follow you so we don’t have to come back here later to pick
up a car, though?”

“Works for me.”

As he drove, James felt happier than he had in a
while. His mom was improving without going into financial ruin, and Becca might
be a woman he could see a future with someday.

The two of them strolled for a little while,
until Becca complained of her feet hurting, so James guided her to a bench,
where she immediately pulled off her sandals, sighing in obvious relief.

He gestured toward her shoes. “The things women
do for fashion, huh?”

“We’re slaves to it.” Becca leaned back and
looked around. “Lots of people today.” She laughed, but the corners of her
mouth were tight. “I am
so
not good at this small talk.”

James had been considering kissing her, but the
remark about the crowd around them gave him pause.
Maybe I should hold off
on that. Doesn’t mean I can’t hold her hand, though.

And he did just that. Sliding his hand over
hers, he linked their fingers together. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, staring into his eyes.
Oh
man, now I really want to kiss her.

Instead, he cleared his throat and moved away a
little to avoid temptation.

“Tell me about your job.”

Becca wrinkled her nose. “Do you really want to
hear? Most people think it’s boring.”

“Yes, or I wouldn’t have asked. And remember,
we’re in the same field.”

“Your job is way more creative than mine.”

“Doesn’t mean yours can’t be interesting.”

She proceeded to regale him with a litany of
stories that only someone in their line of work would find funny. James was
charmed by how her eyes lit up and her hands flew when she talked about her
projects.

When she stopped to take a breath, he leaned
over and kissed her. It was merely a soft, quick touch of his lips to hers, but
when he pulled away she ran her fingertips over her mouth. “Wow. Do that
again.”

James laughed. “With pleasure.”

Turning more fully toward her, but mindful of
where they were, he took her into his arms and did as she bade, asking for
entrance to her mouth with his tongue. Becca opened to him and James couldn’t
contain a soft groan. He’d happily kiss her for hours, but limited himself to a
couple of quick but deep kisses before releasing her.

Becca glanced around, spots of pink appearing on
her cheeks. “Walk again?”

“Sure.”

A short time later James’ cell rang. It was his
mother, asking him to go to the store for her, so with regret he bade Becca
goodbye.

After stopping off to buy the groceries his mom
had requested, he went to her house–the same one he’d grown up in. As he opened
the side door, which led directly into the homey kitchen, a familiar sensation
of nostalgia stole over him. He’d loved his childhood here. There had been tons
of kids around his age in the neighborhood, and his parents had been blissfully
happy. Losing his dad a few years ago to a sudden, massive heart attack had been
a blow to the entire family, but his mother in particular had never really
recovered. Now he worried about her daily.

“Mom?”

“In the den,” she called in her familiar
melodious trill.

“I’ll be in as soon as I put away the
groceries.”

“All right, hon. Can you bring me a sweet tea?”

After stocking the kitchen, he took the pitcher
that had been a part of his life as long as he could remember and poured a
glass of iced tea for his mom. James had never been a fan of sweet tea, but his
mother loved the stuff and always brewed it in her special jug.

James took the drink into the den and put it on
the table next to his mom. “You’re keeping to the one glass the doctor said you
could have, right?”

“Yes, mom.” His mother replied, rolling her
eyes. “Don’t I do everything the doctors tell me to?”

He snorted. “Not even close.” James settled onto
the couch near his mom’s armchair.

“Go ahead. Ask me about the rest.” She folded
her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow.

“Physical therapy?”

“They’re increasing my reps.”

“But not the weight, right?”

His mother sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Hon,
these people are experts. If the doctor says not to they don’t.”

“I know, but—”

“I get it. Have a little faith in me and in
them. As for the rest, I’m going on Tuesday to have my ankle assessed again.
They think the treatments are increasing my range of motion. And before you
offer, I’ve already got a ride. Jeannette is taking me and we’re picking up
lunch on the way home.”

“That’s great, Mom, about all of it.”

Her eyes narrowed as she skewered him with one
of those knowing “Mom” gazes. “You look pretty happy.”

“I was with Becca. Remember, I told you about
her?”

“Ah, yes. The anti-Valentine’s Day girl.”

“She’s just had a rough time of it. A lot like
me in that way, actually.”

“Well, don’t let her negative attitude rub off
on you.”

“I won’t. And she’s not that bad anyway. I think
the party was just something to do, so she wouldn’t be alone on Valentine’s
Day.”

His mother nodded. “Any woman in her right mind
should be bending over backward to land you.”

“You make me sound like a prize trout.”

“You are a prize. Just not a trout.”

James chuckled. “Do you need anything else?”

“Tammy’s coming in a few hours with my dinner.
Sweet girl, but not your type.”

“Not all of them are.” James rose and pressed a
kiss to his mom’s forehead. Shaking a mock finger, he said, “Behave. No wild
parties.” It was an old joke between them. For years, every time her and his
dad had left him and Michele alone, she’d give the same warning. Considering
they were probably two of the least likely kids on the planet to host a wild
party, it was obviously tongue-in-cheek. Now he issued the mock warning back to
her as often as she did to him.

As he drove home, James thought about the day.
It had been one of the most enjoyable he’d had in weeks. He couldn’t wait to
see Becca again. They’d made a tentative date for Tuesday, but she’d had to
check her work schedule first, since she often had meetings and events in the
evening. James began to brainstorm where he could take her and soon found
himself pulling into the driveway. With a toothy grin, he exited the car. Yes,
things were looking up.