Turning a New Paige
Page 1
Table of Contents
Turning a New Paige:
Publication Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
About the Author
Also Available
Also Read
Thank You
Turning a New Paige:
A Groundhog Day Romance
by
Ginny B. Nescott
This is a work of fiction. 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.
Turning a New Paige:
A Groundhog Day Romance
COPYRIGHT © 2017 by Ginny B. Nescott
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com
Cover Art by Diana Carlile
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com
Publishing History
First Scarlet Rose Edition, 2017
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1904-9
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To Mark for making me feel young. To Vicky, Max, Diana, and so many others who showed me I had a voice. And a hearty cheers to lovers, to renewed lovers, and to lovers yet to find each other!
Chapter One
Her tan showed she wasn’t from around here. Her Southern drawl didn’t help either. Snowflakes covered the shoulders of her thin jacket and dampened her hair. Her teeth chattered. All of it made her look less than the stunner she was.
Paige Myers didn’t see herself as a beauty at twenty-six. Her muted light gray/blue eyes were intelligent if she glanced your way. Her body was her own without the added cup size enhancements her Southern campus sorority sisters had recommended. She even kept her own butterscotch hair color.
Paige looked around the bar/restaurant and pulled back a chair in a huff. Her mind reeled in exhaustion. February in a snow storm in some college town bar in the mountains. She was still at least an hour from her aunt’s home and famished. Not at all where she expected to be. Each man was more handsome than the next and hardly a woman in sight. She had picked the place because of the name, but Sizzle looked more and more like a gay bar.
“F-f-fine by me,” she mumbled with her Carolina accent to no one in particular. She shivered. Just a few years out of college, she had moved to Atlanta to get a job. It hadn’t hurt that her boyfriend, Davis, and his whole group of fraternity brothers moved to Buckhead, too. It also hadn’t hurt that he was a big blond hunk of a guy. What had hurt? He was a jerk. She’d left him behind. “Who n-n-needs men anyway?”
“I do for a start, sister.” A flamboyant black-haired waiter slapped a menu and drink list in front of her and flashed a very white-toothed grin. “You eating or is this just one of those drown yourself in a drink with a cherry and make it a double?”
“D-drink, yes. Ch-cherry, no. Hot fries, hot sauce, and c-cold whatever you have on tap. Leave the menu, too.” Paige wanted to sound tough, but the shiver and sugared accent took off any of the edge she tried to portray.
She shook the snow off of her jacket and huddled deeper into it.
The waiter tightened his eyes in an assessing way.
“What?” Paige said in a dismissive tone. She thought she’d left all that judgement behind in Buckhead with Davis.
“Hmm.”
This time, Paige made a face and gestured with her hands in a shooing motion, her nails perfectly manicured and painted, her expensive rings glittering in the artificial light. She stared him down with tired eyes and pushed back her matted hair with another shiver, becoming aware that the snow made it look wet and greasy.
The waiter didn’t move. Then he smiled. “You’re not gay, but you just need a girlfriend’s touch, right?”
“N-no, I am not gay. I am not anything tonight. Broke up. Hate men. Hate snow. Lost. Just hungry.”
“Honey, if you were hungry, you would’ve stopped at a burger joint. If you were thirsty, there are a dozen other bars closer to the highways. You came here for more than a plateful. And if you are a big tipper, which I know you will be, you came to the right place to share your story.”
When he still didn’t go away, Paige gave in with a nod and a half smile to her sigh.
The waiter beamed. “One breakup special coming up. I’m adding the slider trio to your order, honey.”
“Whatever. J-j-just food, drink, and I’m not t-talking.” Her shiver added a stutter to her speech.
“Oh, of course not. But it’s mid-week. This place might be relatively dead for the next hour or two, and me and my girls haven’t done a major overhaul fixer upper in a while.” He sashayed away, turned back, and said, “And you, honey, are going to be a special, fun project.”
“Hey, I am not s-s-special!” Paige called out after him. With her drawl, her matted hair, and stutter, she drew attention from those close by, including the manager, who came over.
“Oh, we are all special. We’re bright in our own way,” he said, patting her hand in a kind but condescending way used mainly for toddlers and those with mental issues. He waited a beat and broadened his smile. She was taken aback. He just left laughing, round belly jiggling.
Embarrassment. Paige added embarrassment to the list of crap happening to her. Job lost. Boyfriend a jerk. Make that ex-boyfriend. Drove straight through and for too long. Snow, ice, without snow tires. No way was she finding her aunt’s house. Not this late. Or was it early? What time was it?
She pulled out her cell phone, only partly charged since her car was packed to the top with her possessions, her charger buried in the mix. Only seven at night but pitch black from the growing storm. Less than forty-eight hours ago, she had been living with a guy, had a job, and few cares. She’d been happy. Well, happy enough. At least not cold and miserably frustrated from driving an extra six hours through a storm. Eighteen friggin’ hours, half of it in bitter, horrible ice and snow.
The waiter slipped a mug of warm spiked cider in front of her. She was about to object, but the sincere expression of kindness made her stop from grousing. The drink was warm and slid down with a comfort of apples and cinnamon.
“Strong, honey, so you can be, too.”
She nodded her thanks.
Paige was a realist and less of a girly girl than most of those southern belles she grew up knowing. She normally wasn’t dismal. She wasn’t sure what she was now. Too exhausted to be hangry. February sucks. Winter in the North sucks. Atlanta wasn’t better, just warmer.
She sank back into her downward-spiraling mood. The fight with her ex kept churning in her mind. Davis… How could he? She had returned to the condo from being laid off at her job. It didn’t matter that they had recently promoted her or she worked her ass off. Seniority was seniority. Laid off. Davis’s first reaction was, “There go all the plans.”
Did he mean a proposal? No. The plans were for her to chip in so they could go on an overpriced vacation with the group, meaning his fraternity brothers he constantly hung out with anyway.
She remembered her response. “That was the surprise you mentioned at the holidays to my parents? A trip? Everybody thought you were hinting you would ask me to marry you.”
“Marry you? What? With your college debt? No way,” Davis scoffed.
Her mind had reeled. What had he said after he begged for her to be reasonable? Something about not worrying about the job, that her daddy could chip in. They had argued. She asked to move to a less pricey place since the rental agreement was almost up. He said no way and that he loved his Buckhead condo. His? They both paid rent. She’d dared push him further and asked if he loved her. His answer? The bastard’s glib answer? “Yeah, sure. Besides, you can get a new job soon.”
In that moment, she knew she needed more than a new job. She needed a new start, without Davis, but where? She wasn’t quite ready to face any of her problems or showing up at her parents for the third degree. That was where the visit to her aunt came in. Time. Time to hide until she was ready to figure out her future.
She let her thoughts go numb and tuned into the conversations around her at the bar. A man with the same thick, dark hair and the same long nose as her waiter walked briskly into the bar. Older? More, something. More masculine? Striking. She watched him from where she sat, sipping the drink, eavesdropping.
“Ooh, look, it’s my cousin,” her waiter gushed. “All professional-looking in that fine suit.”
The man walked toward them with long strides and a big smile.
A red-headed waiter paused beside her waiter, his gaze scanning the new guy. “Hey, handsome. So, you’re a professional? Ooh. What kind?” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“Not that kind,” her waiter responded.
The man ignored the exchange and gave his cousin a hug.
“Happy Groundhog Birthday, Cuz,” her waiter said, “a day early unless you stick around ‘til midnight?”
Groundhog Man answered in a deeper, almost growly, voice, “Not sure if I’m staying that long, but I could have a bite.”
“Ooh, better still. Bite me, baby,” Red Head said and added a puckered air-kiss.
Her waiter shook his head. “Wrong team. He likes the V’s.”
“Eww. Too bad. Come find me if you’re questioning, though.” Red Head scurried off.
“Still behaving?” Groundhog Man asked.
The waiter nodded.
Groundhog Man slid some kind of envelope to his cousin. “Then this is for you.”
“I can’t. Shouldn’t. But…thanks.” The waiter’s shoulders relaxed as he tucked away the envelope.
A bell dinged from the kitchen window, signaling a meal order was ready. Her waiter grabbed the plate and leaned into Groundhog Man for a few whispered words before nodding in her direction. Only then did Paige become aware she had been staring. She blushed and turned away. That much of her Southern ways were ingrained. She looked out the window pretending to be engrossed at the blowing snow and ice mix.
“Yours I presume? One breakup special, extra fries?”
She glanced at the steamy plate set before her. The order was right, but the voice wasn’t. Mr. Groundhog Man stood beside her. “I, err…”
“You need an ear, Alfie tells me. May I?” Groundhog Man pointed to the chair. He didn’t wait for an answer and sat.
The waiter also approached. “Oh, honey, here’s your hot sauce, and there’s your ear.” He patted his cousin’s shoulder. “Things are picking up in here, after all. We can do something about all this”—Alfie gestured with a swirl around her face—“later. For now, he’s your listener. Cute, isn’t he?”
“Say anything more, and that envelope comes back,” Groundhog Man said.
“I will tell on you.”
Another ding sounded in the background.
“Who to?” Groundhog asked with a grin.
More dings.
“I have some handsome cousin who steps in wearing suits and looks after me every now and then.” Alfie turned and nearly screeched in the direction of the ding, “I’m coming, coming, coming!”
“Atta boy!”
“Good for you, Alfie!”
“Going solo in public.”
The growing crowd chided at once. Alfie laughed, took a bow, and rushed to get the next order.
“Well, it looks like you’re stuck with me,” Groundhog Man said. “Out with it. What’s your story?”
“And I’m supposed to just spill my guts to a perfect stranger?”
Groundhog Man looked at her with a slightly raised eyebrow. “Talk? Sure. Especially since you think I’m perfect. No guts spilling though, unless you plan on getting trashed or eating all that yourself. Then the ladies room, such that it is, is right that way.” He pointed, brandishing a French fry he stole off of her plate.
“Hey!” Paige slapped his hand. He didn’t drop the fry but stole another one with his other hand. She slapped him again. “That’s it. I want a trade in on my appointed listener.”
“Aww, sorry. Did I cross the line? Two more before my own food comes, and then I’ll stop.”
“Listening?”
“Stealing fries. Listening, sorry to say, I’m good at that. I happen to be that good guy. You know, the kind women dump on and six weeks later run off. Rebound Guy.”
Paige looked at him. Medium brown eyes, sincere puppy eyes…maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe not. She didn’t care at that moment. Food, delicious food, won over thought. She tucked in.
“Groundhog Man,” she mumbled between tasty bites.
“What?”
“You’re not Rebound Guy.” She swallowed. “You’re Groundhog Man. You see your shadow and for six weeks you have the woman and then they leave,” she said matter-of-factly. “Groundhog Man.”
She bit into a Thai slider and looked up in time to see the flinch of pain roll across his face. Then it was hidden with a smile. The kind of smile that was given in an office to a group of unknown people. She’d stung him and knew it. “Sorry.”
“For you, too. When was your break up?”
She pointed to his watch. “Twenty hours and about nine hundred miles ago.”
“Ouch.”
“You?” She swallowed and actually slowed down and bottomed her drink.
Groundhog Man looked past her, inhaled deeply, and exhaled. “It’s been awhile.” He stood, took off his overcoat, his suit jacket, stretched, and sat back down.
He was slimmer than the big jerk lug, Davis Martin Greer, she’d left behind in Georgia. There was something different about the man at her table. Dang. This was the second time he caught her staring. Her blush formed again. His crooked smile told her he noticed.
To break the moment, Paige lifted her mug, waving it, in hopes of catching the waiter’s attention for more to drink. Her hand whacked someone directly in the crotch as he tried to pass. She grimaced. “Oops. Sorry. So very sorry.”
“Ouch. I don’t go there, sister, so don’t you go there either,” the man said and walked away grumbling with kind of a cowboy wide-legged stance.
Groundhog Man didn’t hide his laugh well.
Alfie came, carrying a tray of food and drinks. He put large shots in front of them along with a fresh mug of cider, beer, and a thick sandwich. “What did I miss?”
“Not much,” Groundhog Man said. “Except my preconception of refined Southern manners just got shattered along with that guy’s balls.”
The waiter walked away chuckling.
Paige swallowed one more quick bite. “Maybe I should leave…”
She stood before he could say, “C’mon, just trying to make you laugh.”
He rose, reaching for her, sympathy in his eyes. “Snow and ice are coming down. Didn’t want to make you down, too. I’ll behave. Scouts honor.”
He pulled out her chair. The gesture gave her pause. Something Davis, with all his respectable background, never did for her.
She sat, with slight hesitation, taking in his full height. Something was very different about him. Italian? Native Ameri
can?
Groundhog Man raised a shot glass and pushed the other to her. She took the glass, knowing the liquid would do little to keep her from talking. She planned to hold to herself, perhaps in denial of it all. Once she admitted she had lost her job, her boyfriend, and her Buckhead condo in one day, it would all become too real. Maybe she could drown it all and think about it another day instead.
Without another moment of hesitation, she threw back the shot and chased it with his untouched beer. Her eyes went wide. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
“Whoa. Good, huh? Never downed it in one like that. It’s a double shot named after the bar, Sizzle.”
A breathless “ha” came from her lips. She grabbed for the water and drank heavily, knowing the damage was already done, then slammed the glass on the table.
“Okay, whoever you are, that should loosen your lips. Start sinking ships, or is that too old of a reference?” He smiled. “So, what’s your name, or should I just call you, Flee?” he asked with a teasing kindness to his eyes.
“Flea? As in bite and itch? Gee, thanks.”
“Flee as in run away from your troubles,” he said.
“I am not fleeing. I going to my aunt’s.” Paige looked to the window and the dark sky. The snow fell more and more. “Or so I thought. Stupid snow. Stupid sucky snow and ice.”
“Wow. Harsh, Flee. Real harsh words.” He raised his glass and loudly toasted, “Here’s to stupid, sucky snow and ice!”
The group around them responded with raised glasses.
“Fuck the snow!”
“Fuck the ice!”
The red headed waiter added, “Fuck me!”
Lurid responses followed including, “Already did,” and “Come over here and say that,” along with hearty laughs.
Resigned, slightly tipsy, and smiling, Paige raised her glass, too. Maybe she needed an ear more than her stubbornness normally allowed. After all, Groundhog Man was a very handsome, dark-haired stranger. She would never see him again. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as they ate.
“Naw. Not doing it,” she said firmly.
“Not doing what?” he asked, cheek filled with the warm turkey sandwich.