Flipped! (Spinning Hills Romance 1)

by Ines Saint

  Love Spinning Hills and the Amador brothers?

  Keep reading for a sneak peek at Sam’s story

  NEEDS A LITTLE TLC

  Available Fall 2015

  From Inés Saint

  and

  Lyrical Press

  CHAPTER 1

  Sam slammed the ledger shut. No matter how long he stared, the numbers wouldn’t change. He scrubbed his face, as if the action could erase his worries.

  The blinking light on his office phone caught his eye, and he leaned over to scroll down the list of missed calls, eager for any distraction. His hand froze in midair when he saw the last caller was registered as “Red.”

  He frowned down at the name. Could it be . . . ? His current circumstances certainly made it a possibility.

  It probably wasn’t her, yet there he was, hoping. He hadn’t expected hope. Hadn’t expected much of anything, really, because he never thought about it. The past was past, and Sam wasn’t one to open the door on its more painful episodes when they wanted to stop by for a visit.

  But this wasn’t a memory wanting to visit an unwilling mind. This was real and this was now. For a reason he couldn’t put his finger on, he knew that she’d be calling again.

  Sam sat back and steepled his fingers, feeling like the cat who’d finally caught the canary. Except the canary was a cardinal, and he’d stopped chasing it ten years before. And now here it was, flying back into his life because he had something she wanted.

  “What’re you smiling about?” his older brother, Dan, asked.

  Sam snapped his eyes up. His two brothers were standing in front of him and he hadn’t even heard them come in.

  “Yeah, you look evil.” Johnny, his younger brother, quirked his eyebrows in approval.

  Dan crossed his arms and pretended to study him. “It’s actually a good look on you.”

  “Yeah, you don’t usually do evil, but it brings out the flames in your eyes.” Johnny was at his desk, poking his nose into Sam’s papers, in two strides.

  Sam discreetly pushed the ledger he’d been studying under some blueprints. “I can be evil when the mood strikes me.” He reached for a flyswatter and slapped Johnny’s hand when his brother reached for one of the blueprints.

  “What the hell?” Johnny’s hand shot back.

  “I keep it around just for you.”

  “He’ll find out what you’re up to sooner or later,” Dan warned.

  Sam felt the smile slide right off his face. Dan was right. They would both find out. Everybody would find out, in fact.

  Because Spinning Hills was that kind of town.

  “Thirty-four highly promising fixer-uppers,” Jessica repeated in a dutiful tone while glancing down at her cell phone.

  Cassie nodded and tapped her pencil on the only empty spot on her desk, hoping she looked like it was business as usual. But her leg was knocking the bottom of the desk in beat with the pencil, making the top wobble. She reached down and stilled her leg. “Yes. Twelve he’ll be listing soon, and twenty-two in the pipeline, so to speak.”

  “Well, he didn’t answer. I’ll try again in a few minutes.” Jessica didn’t bother to look up.

  “Let’s keep trying. We need to move fast. We need to move now.” Cassie eyed Jessica’s cell phone, wishing she was fast enough, and mean enough, to climb over both their desks, grab it, and fling it out the window. She furrowed her brows at her office manager. Jessica was never this distracted. “Is something wrong?”

  Jessica glanced up, looking sheepish. “Sorry. Billy decided to cut his own hair this morning and it was a disaster of epic proportions, even by Billy’s standards. It was unfixable. Sarah lent him her phone so he could text me and let me know how it goes at school because he was afraid other kids would make fun of him.” She eyed her phone. “He should be in his classroom by now.”

  Cassie set her pencil down. “Oh, poor thing, do you have a picture? Maybe it isn’t that bad.” Jessica’s eight-year-old always managed to pull at her heartstrings. The boy was energetic, full of ideas, and impulsive.

  “No pictures. He didn’t want evidence. It’s that bad. Anyway, it’s nine a.m. The bell has rung, class has begun, he can’t text me till lunch.” Jessica sighed, put her phone down, and brought her troubled eyes to Cassie’s. “It’s because I named him Billy, isn’t it? Billy’s are always getting themselves into trouble. I should’ve named him Rick. Ricks seem to think things through before they act. And they always seem to be a successful CEO of something.”

  “No. He’s no Rick. He’s a Billy through and through. You had no choice. At least you didn’t name him Tommy—they tend to be impulsive and highly imaginative. You don’t have the nerves for that kind of a ride.” Cassie noted how her friend’s corn-yellow hair was smoothed back into a neat bun. Not one loose strand.

  “I bet you’ll end up with a Tommy. You could handle it.” Jessica offered up the beginnings of a smile before glancing at her phone again. “Okay, I need to take my mind off Billy’s hair. Let’s start over. Why do you want me to call and meet with the owner if these thirty-four listings will take you to the top? You’re the intuitive real estate agent, I’m the efficient office manager, remember?”

  Cassie uncrossed her legs to keep her right leg from swinging again. “Here’s the thing,” she said, folding her hands on top of her desk.

  “Uh-oh. Billy always says that when he’s ’fessing up to something crazy.”

  Cassie frowned at her friend. “I’m not confessing to anything, I just have a disclosure to make . . . a difficult one, so please hear me out.” She took in a quick puff of air and just as quickly blew it out. “The owner of the thirty-four properties I absolutely must list is Sam Amador. He was my best friend growing up and my first, well, love, I guess you could say. My sources tell me he’s interviewing realty firms this week and I need you to really focus when you call him again. We can go over the foolproof spiel I wrote down for you one more time if you think it’ll help.” Cassie got up and began to pace. “Oh! And call him on speakerphone this time, that way I can write down anything you need to know that might come up as we go along. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.”

  Jessica’s expression had gone from sympathetic and understanding to concerned. “Is this the guy you never want to talk about? The ‘wound that still hurts’?”

  “That’s him.” Cassie drew to a halt in front of Jessica. “Remember, the goal of the call is for you to set up a meeting. Our sales numbers are impressive, so it shouldn’t be hard. The houses he’s renovating are in Spinning Hills, a fun little town and an inner ring suburb of Dayton. Listing his properties will get my foot firmly in the door of the Dayton market and will skyrocket me straight to the top of our niche.” She pretended her hand was a rocket shooting up into the sky and whistled a jetting sound for effect.

  Jessica remained uneasy. “Are you sure this is the best way to get your foot in the door? I mean, if the wound still hurts it means it hasn’t healed and—”

  Cassie placed both hands on top of her friend’s tidy, formerly streak-free desk. “Selling nine of his properties would make us the number-one historic property realty firm in the state, Jess. Twelve would give us a nice lead. Thirty-four would leave everyone else in the dust. I want those houses. I want them bad. I just don’t want him to know it’s me who wants them.”

  “You know you’ll have to meet him sooner or later, though. Or are you planning on hiring someone else to sell those houses?”

  “I’m selling them. I know that market inside out. But there’s no reason to think that far ahead, so I’m blocking those thoughts.” Cassie pointed at the legal pad she’d handed Jessica. “Read it again and call, but don’t overthink it.”

  “But don’t you want to talk about it a bit—”

  “Nope. I can’t. I’m this close to unblocking those thoughts.” She gestured with her fingers just how close she was. “I have to keep on moving. That’s the key.”

  “I won’t call if you w
on’t talk about it.”

  “Then I guess I’ll have to get Jan from Columbus to do it.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Jessica crossed her arms and sat back.

  Cassie plunked back down on her chair and sighed. Her Columbus office was an hour away from Dayton. It wouldn’t work. “Fine. I’ll tell you all about it if you get the meeting. Deal?”

  Seconds later, Jessica’s phone was on speaker, and the number to Amador Construction and Preservation was ringing. The more it rang, the tighter Cassie squeezed her hands together. It took her a moment to notice she’d stopped breathing.

  A click sounded. Someone had picked up. “Amador Construction, this is Sam speaking, how can I help you?” a male voice asked. Cassie’s heart began pumping so hard, she could hear its pounding rhythm in her head. Her hands shook and she pursed her lips at them. She shouldn’t feel this way.

  Sam Amador had been an integral part of her childhood and the memories she treasured. But for some reason beyond her control, a hidden place in her heart was still sore over how badly it had all ended.

  Jessica cleared her throat and held the yellow legal pad up to her face. “Good morning, Mr. Amador. My name is Jessica Carter and I’m with Red Realty, a niche realty firm focused on matching special historic properties with their perfect future owners.”

  Cassie zeroed in on her friend’s voice, focused on the number one, which was underlined, highlighted, and circled on the back of the legal pad she was holding, and tried to bring herself back from the land of the stupid.

  “I’m calling because I understand you have a number of historic houses on your hands, and I’d love the opportunity to meet with you and discuss your goals and how we can help you meet them.”

  Cassie beamed at Jessica. She sounded professional, yet warm, confident, and grateful for his time.

  “Red Realty,” Sam repeated, a little too slowly. A little too . . . knowingly? Nah. She no longer knew him well enough to read that much into two words. It was all in her head.

  “Yes.” Jessica nodded, as if he could see her. “Red Realty. Perhaps you’ve heard of us? We’ve had great successes and built wonderful partnerships in the Cleveland, Toledo, Columbus, and Cincinnati markets, and we’d love to do the same in Spinning Hills and the Dayton region. I’d like to set up a meeting.”

  “Sure,” Sam answered. Cassie and Jessica stared at each other, eyes wide, in a moment of shared triumph. Katy Perry’s “Firework” was playing so loudly in her head, Cassie wondered if her friend could hear it. Jessica began doing a little dance in her chair.

  “Put your owner on the line and I’ll be happy to set up a meeting with her,” he finished.

  Her? The song in Cassie’s head stopped with a loud screech. Her eyes again met Jessica’s, who dropped the legal pad. Cassie dove toward it and scribbled, Her? on it before looking up at Jessica.

  “Her?” Jessica squeaked into the phone. Cassie flailed her hands and mouthed, no. She hadn’t meant for her to repeat that. She bent over the pad again.

  “Yes. Her,” Sam repeated. “The owner of Red Realty.”

  “Oh. Her,” Jessica repeated, throwing a hand up in frustration while she waited for Cassie to finish her mad scribble. Owner not available or needed!!!

  “I’m sorry, but the owner isn’t available right now, but I can assure you a meeting with her won’t be necessary. She’s . . . a silent partner.” Her voice faltered. “But I assure you our Cincinnati office is well equipped to handle your properties, Mr. Amador. We’ll outline a sales plan you can be enthusiastic about.”

  “Silent partner? Uh, okay.” A soft chuckle came over the phone and Cassie paused to stare at the air above it, half-expecting to see Sam’s head floating over it, looking right at her. He had never been the mocking type, but there was something in his voice . . .

  Cassie shook her head before finishing her scribble, Set up meeting! “What is a good day and time for us to meet, Mr. Amador?” Jessica asked.

  “She’s listening, isn’t she?” Sam asked. Cassie’s eyes widened and then narrowed. Was that a smile in his voice?

  Jessica snapped her pencil in two. “Excuse me?”

  “Tell Cassie I never took her for a coward,” Sam replied.

  Angry, red-hot sparks went off in Cassie’s head and traveled throughout her body. He knew. How did he know? And why was he being a jerk about it? Cassie took two quick steps and grabbed the phone out of her friend’s weak hand, but as she did so, her dead therapist’s advice echoed in her mind.

  She counted to ten, patiently, and considered her actions, carefully . “This is Cassidy Morgan. My associate tells me you’d like to speak with me?”

  “I knew you were listening. And I knew you didn’t have it in you to be a silent anything.”

  Cassie closed her eyes and counted to ten, again. The words, we’re both professionals, Mr. Amador, let’s begin by treating each other as such, were at the tip of her tongue. True words. A perfect comeback.

  But she and Sam had been the best of childhood friends, and Sam’s words were just as true. After all, he had somehow known she was listening. If they were both going to be truly professional in their dealings, she’d have to acknowledge the old relationship while setting the tone for their possible future business relationship. He didn’t have to know that if she could crawl through the airwaves, come out the other side, and hit him with his phone, she would.

  Oh yes, Sam thought. I can do evil. He leaned back in his chair and tried to think above the many feelings coursing through him. Part of him had gone back to a time when he’d known Cassie like the back of his hand, and he couldn’t help but enjoy the situation. Ten years might have passed, but there was no doubt in his mind she’d hit him over the head with his own phone right now if she could.

  “Sam?” she finally spoke.

  “I’m here.” It was a normal response, but something within him recognized their deeper truth. He’d always been here, in every possible way. And she’d left without giving him a chance to explain. He felt his grin disappear.

  “Life is funny, right? It looks like our old shared interests have brought about the possibility of a business partnership. I can guarantee my realty firm is right for the job, and I’d like my associate to meet with you soon to discuss it. When would be a good time for you?”

  All business. He’d never heard her like this. Ten years was a long time. Enough to make the past seem insignificant. They weren’t the same people they’d once been. Maybe she didn’t even want to hit him over the head. Sam looked out the window without really seeing.

  She’d started out at a disadvantage, but had ended up taking control of the situation. Would he let her get away with it? There had been a time when the thought of making her uncomfortable would have been enough to make him back down.

  But backing off when things got too heated didn’t always make things better. He’d learned the hard way. Feeling himself hardening against his old friend, he decided to give as good as he got. “Funny you mention old interests. The revitalization of Spinning Hills and Dayton and supporting local businesses are still top priorities for me. I’ve met with a few large firms already, and I always ask that either the owner or franchise owner have a physical presence here. I’d be happy to meet with your associate and explain how I do business as long as you, as the owner of Red Realty, are also present at that meeting. But don’t worry, you can be as silent as you like.”

  A long pause ensued. Sam sat back, for the first time noting how hard his heart was beating.

  “Understood,” she said, her voice forced, as if her teeth were clenched. He felt the corner of his mouth curl up. How much could she have changed if he could still predict her reactions? “When?” she asked.

  When? The pulse at the base of his throat began to throb. He hated when that happened. It usually meant it was time to back off. Except this time, he wouldn’t. Better to get it over with soon. “I’m free tomorrow at nine in the morning. We can meet at my office—it’s my d
ad’s old office. You know where it is.”

  The moment those last words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. He hadn’t meant it as an innuendo, but the suggestion was there and it couldn’t be helped. It was where they’d first made love.

  Another shared memory neither of them could easily forget or ignore.

  “Jessica and I will be there. Thank you for the opportunity. Good-bye.” Click.

  Sam stared the phone. Apparently, one of them could ignore it.

  Inés Saint was born in Zaragoza, Spain. She’s bilingual and bicultural and has spent the last ten years raising her fun, inspiring little boys and sharing her life with the man of her dreams, who also happens to be her best friend and biggest cheerleader. Her greatest joys are spending quality time with family and close friends.

  LYRICAL PRESS BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2015 by Inés Saint

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  Lyrical and the L logo are trademarks of Kensington Publishing Corp.

  First Electronic Edition: May 2015

  ISBN: 978-1-6018-3435-5

  ISBN-13: 978-1-60183-436-2

  ISBN-10: 1-60183-436-5