He hadn’t thought of it that way. Not Brooke. He’d been fooled before, but this was different. They had a connection, and he wasn’t imagining it. This was his second chance, dammit, and he wouldn’t blow it.
Then again, Brooke had wanted to buy the vineyard and he wouldn’t soon forget how pissed off she’d been to lose it. But she’d also been the one to resist coming to work for him.
Until he’d sweetened the pot. There was an uncomfortable pinch in his gut. “I appreciate your concern, but you’re wrong.”
“I know about the photo of the two of you on that insipid blog. Did it ever occur to you that she might have been the one to hire a photographer?”
“Not for a minute.” He’d seen how upset she’d been, worried Gigi would find out and make her life hell.
“She knows most of the people in town, and maybe she wanted them to know she was with you.”
“What would that accomplish?”
“It’s proof, in case she ever wants to sue you. She would wind up owning the vineyard if she plays her cards right.”
“If she wanted proof, she could have a lot better than that lousy photo.”
Gigi held a hand to her neck. “For the love of all that’s holy, please don’t tell me you’re sending nude photos to each other. Sexting, or whatever you kids are calling it. Please tell me you’re not doing that, or I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”
“Calm down. I went to fame school, didn’t I?” No nude photos of him, even though he wouldn’t mind receiving a few from Brooke.
“I don’t get it. Why her?”
“Because it was my idea.” Seemed like all his life he’d been chased by girls, and then women. Sad women who didn’t seem to want to be anything but an attractive accessory to him.
But one girl had never chased him. He hadn’t allowed himself to think what might happen if she didn’t feel the same. No way were those amber eyes lying to him. She was all in.
Of course, she had wanted the vineyard before she’d ever wanted him.
Brooke felt good about progress towards opening date, and they were on target to open on time as long as nothing went wrong. Even better, Billy had been asked to open up the city’s parade with the Boy Scouts, a nice segue to their Grand Opening. If all went as planned, maybe this year might be the one to erase the trajectory of all her past Holiday failures. She wasn’t exactly Ms. Christmas.
And tonight, only one week from the upcoming dreaded start of The Holidays that began with stuffing the ass of a dead bird and eating until passing out, Eileen and Giancarlo would have their first date. Brooke was standing by, ready to hear a full report as soon as Eileen returned from her date.
She had a good feeling about this. Even if Giancarlo was at least a decade younger, Eileen was in great shape and looked much younger than her years. They’d probably go out a few times, keep each other company, and who knows what might develop? Maybe a nice romance for Eileen, and Billy would thank her once he found out. She happened to love the many ways he said thank you.
Brooke had poured herself a glass of Merlot and sat down on the couch to watch a marathon of Sex Sent me to the ER when there was a soft knock at her front door. She opened it to find a rather disheveled looking Eileen, her dress a little rumpled. Her hair stuck out a little bit in the back. Unnerving, as Eileen was one of the most put-together women Brooke had ever met.
“I thought you were going to call me.” Brooke waved her inside.
Why did Eileen look so flushed and so— Oh. No.
“Whew. That was something.” Eileen plopped down on Brooke’s couch.
“I thought you two were going out to dinner.” Where had things taken a wrong turn? Dinner. That was all she’d arranged for these two sex maniacs.
“Oh we did, dear. And afterwards to his place for a movie.”
“His place?” Brooke tried to keep the rising panic out of her voice. And here she’d thought she could trust Giancarlo. He looked so harmless. What the hell did she know?
“Yes, it was a good movie. It was the one about a man who comes home from war and—”
Brooke sat next to Billy’s mother on the couch. “Eileen! What happened? Are you okay?”
“Heavens, yes. Better than ever. Only I didn’t know sex had changed so much.” Eileen patted her hair, smoothing it down in the back.
“You had sex? With Giancarlo?” Billy would kill her for this. His sainted mother having sex with Giancarlo. On the first date! And all Brooke’s damned fault. Because she didn’t want to share the menu.
“Don’t worry, we were safe. You know, I’ve read about this before but I never thought it would happen to me. It really is true that Italians make the best lovers. No wonder my ex-husband hated them.”
Brooke swallowed her wine glass like it was a shot of Whiskey. “So you’re okay with all this? He didn’t hurt you did, he?”
“Hurt me? Oh my dear, no. In fact, it was all my idea. He thought we should wait. He’s such a gentleman, really.”
Such a gentleman. Brooke wished he were here right now so she could tell him how much of a gentleman she thought he was. She cleared her throat. “Did you by any chance mention to Billy that you were going on this date?”
“No, and I don’t want him to know, either. A mother can’t share these types of things with her sons. But that’s what I have you for.” She patted Brooke’s knee.
Brooke got up to pour herself another glass of wine. “I don’t feel comfortable keeping this from him.”
“You want me to tell him I had my first real orgasm tonight? What are you thinking?”
Brooke went from filling up her glass halfway to filling it to the rim. She’d prefer a shot of anesthesia right now, but this would do. “I was thinking maybe you could just tell him you’re dating Giancarlo.”
“Sure. Well, there’s nothing wrong with him knowing that. That is, if I decide to keep dating Giancarlo. Could I have some of that, please?” Eileen gestured to the wine.
“Wine? You’re drinking wine now?”
“I was thinking about what you said. Being a bit decadent once in a while won’t kill me. And my son and father do own a winery.”
Great, she was being all kinds of good influence for Billy’s mother. She poured far less than a half of a glass and handed it to Eileen. “What do you mean if you decide to keep dating him? I thought it went — well.”
“It was fantastic, but if that’s what I’ve been missing maybe I shouldn’t just rush into settling for the first man that comes along.”
“But I thought you said Giancarlo was a real gentleman.”
Eileen took a sip of wine. “He was, but shouldn’t I see what else is out there? What do you think?”
What she thought is that she didn’t want to see Billy’s mother meet some serial killer and wind up on Dateline. Eileen waited, as though she expected an answer from Brooke’s vast wealth of experience. “I think you should date one man at a time, and see how it works out.”
Eileen sighed. “I do wish I could talk to Henrietta about all this. She’s my oldest and dearest friend. What a bitch. If I told her what I did tonight, she’d blab it all over town. I do not want my sons to hear about this. A woman’s got to draw the line somewhere, and I know you’ll be discreet.”
Discreet? Basically, Brooke would take this conversation with her to the grave. “You better believe it. No one will hear it from me.”
“I’ve got loads to think about.” Eileen set her wine glass down. “What about Thanksgiving? You are coming, right?”
While Brooke was grateful for the subject change, Eileen had segued right into another difficult subject. The Holidays. Yes, Billy had mentioned it to her, and of course she didn’t want to say no to him. So she’d hemmed and hawed and kissed him until he forgot what he’d asked.
Brooke detested family holiday get-togethers, and then there was Mom. She’d be expecting Brooke to come to the farm since she’d done that every year for the past several. Since she didn’t spend a
ll that much time during the rest of the year with Mom, Brooke gave Mom The Holidays.
“Well, there’s my mother. I told her I’d spend it with her. She expects me.”
“Invite her, too. I have the room.”
“Um— well.” Billy’s family might be large, but they’d started to grow on her. But adding Mom to the mix?
Why not just start a fire and let the whole place burn down to the ground?
What if she talked about her natural shampoo line throughout the entire dinner? What if she saw the mansion Eileen lived in and started talking carbon footprints? Ever since Mom had become Mother Earth she was annoyingly intolerant of people who would have resembled her younger self.
“When Billy first bought me that house, I thought I’d spend a lot more time entertaining. But then Pop started to need me more. Speaking of which,” Eileen said as she rose, “I should go since Scott is hanging out with Pop. If I don’t get home soon who knows what could happen? Last time I left him with Scott he took Pop target shooting.”
At the front door, Eileen, who was a hugger, put her arms around Brooke and gave a little squeeze. “Thank you for this. I feel like I’m a new woman after tonight.”
“You’re welcome, but it’s not my faul—, I mean it’s not my doing.”
“Nonsense, if not for you I’d have never considered dating someone younger. Someone like Giancarlo, who still has a bit of pep left in him, if you know what I mean,” she elbowed Brooke. “I think I’m going to enjoy being a Cougar.”
“You can do this.” Brooke stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. No matter how many affirmations she recited to herself, her eyes were telling her she didn’t buy it. The Holidays had arrived, and with them dread had settled into the pit of her stomach and made a picnic there. Mom would be coming and that was bad enough, but there was every possibility that Eileen had invited Giancarlo.
Brooke hadn’t told Billy. There just hadn’t been time between selecting tablecloth linens for the grand opening, taste testing the new November crop (Billy had a natural talent for detecting oak flavors), ordering glassware and carafes. And yes, the menu. A thousand tiny details had been discussed and agreed upon. And even if Billy did seem to sneak out every afternoon for what she suspected was a coaching session at the local high school, she had his attention the majority of the time. So did the vineyard.
Billy walked through her front door at precisely four thirty, just as Brooke had changed into a sweater dress. The man was so punctual it hurt. He no longer knocked on her door, and she no longer knocked on his.
“I’m not ready.” She glanced at him, dressed casually in a button up shirt and a jacket that for Mom’s sake Brooke hoped was faux-leather. No tie, because he hated those. Amazing how well he cleaned up even if he always looked his best in a baseball jersey, cap on backwards. Or wearing nothing at all.
“You look ready.” He opened her refrigerator and helped himself to a glass of juice. Weird how familiar they were becoming with each other, when she hadn’t been that way with anyone since— had she ever felt this relaxed, this connected to any guy?
“I have to wear something cute, but environmentally friendly. Also something that doesn’t look like I paid more than ten dollars for it.”
“I’m a guy, so I’m a bit clueless but how does an outfit look environmentally friendly?”
“It should be something that you can air-dry or hang on a line.”
He cocked his head. “People still do that?”
“People like my mother.” This dress wasn’t going to work. In a minute she would reach for her blue jeans and to hell with everyone. Brooke pulled off her dress and ran into her bedroom. Of course Billy followed because he always did when he saw her removing clothes.
Somewhere in her closet she had a nice pair of slacks. Brooke moved clothes and the hangers make their slappy, snitty noises as they were shoved up against each other.
Billy came up behind her, drawing his arms around her waist and pulling her back into his chest. When he lowered his head she felt the gravelly feel of his beard, which always tickled.
“I didn’t know your mother would make you feel like this.”
Brooke sighed deeply. Men. “It’s not so much her as it is The Holidays. But they are so closely intertwined I can’t tell the difference anymore.”
“What do you want to wear?” He practically whispered in her ear. It sounded so much like when he asked ‘does that feel good, baby?’ and ‘do you like that?’ that Brooke’s spine tingled.
“I want to wear my boots, but those are leather which means a cow died for them, and also they cost me an insane amount of money.”
“Is the price tag still on them?”
“Don’t be silly.”
“Wear them. And as much as I’d like to see you in nothing but your boots, let’s wait until later for that. What will you wear with the boots?”
She turned around to meet his smile. He was right. She was going to wear what she wanted. Brooke settled on her little black dress with matching boots.
They picked up Mom at the farm, who was dressed normally in a red simple dress with her normally braided hair in a bun. She didn’t make a single comment about Billy’s convertible, probably because it was a hybrid.
Instead she made light conversation with Billy about baseball and the World Series. Brooke didn’t even know Mom new anything about baseball, much less the actual name of the team that had won it. Naturally the conversation changed as they pulled up to Eileen’s home. Home wasn’t quite the word. Mansion on steroids more like it.
“For the Love of Pete, it must cost a small fortune to water this lawn and keep it this green.” Mom stared, jaw gaping.
“Mom, please,” Brooke hissed when Billy got out of the car to open the door for Mom.
“I’m only stating the obvious. We use some wonderful new irrigation methods at the farm. Maybe you’d be interested,” Mom said to Billy when he opened the passenger door.
If he was surprised to discuss irrigation systems before Thanksgiving dinner, he gave no indication. “I’d love to hear it sometime.”
Sure he would, because that’s what they’d all like to do tonight. Talk irrigation systems. They had a great one at the vineyard, and neither one of them could talk about it for long without their eyes glazing over.
Eileen met them at the door, and the smells of turkey and stuffing wafted out to greet them. “Come in. Wallace is already here. We’re just waiting for Scott. And don’t worry, Billy, we have plenty of real turkey and mashed potatoes because I do realize some people have a death wish.”
“Thanks, Ma. You know me. Life on the edge.” Billy smiled and introduced Mom to Eileen.
Brooke followed her inside, feeling suddenly nervous. As though he might realize it, she felt Billy put his hand on the small of her back and guide her inside.
If ever there were a home that split the line between extravagant and homey, Eileen’s home fit the bill.
Rich and expensive looking tapestries stood in stark contrast to family photos everywhere —from Billy pitching at a Sliders game to Scott in his Army fatigues. A photo of Wallace in front of a large cabin, dozens of photos of Pop with the boys. Very few of Eileen, but one photo of her sitting like the Queen Bee between her three boys. Billy looked to be about thirteen in that photo. That young face devilish and happy, the way she remembered him. He always seemed to be smiling.
Eileen led them into the large and open family room with floor to ceiling windows, and Brooke’s breath hitched when she saw Giancarlo alone in the corner.
“What’s Giancarlo doing here?” Billy asked to know one in particular.
Eileen wrung her hands together. “Ah, well, I thought you might like to have someone in the business. Good conversation.”
“Hey, thanks Mom. Great idea. Isn’t it, Brooke?” Billy’s arm lingered around her waist.
“Great.” Brooke could use a few minutes alone with Giancarlo, but this was not the time or the pl
ace. Too late anyway, as Billy walked right over to Giancarlo and began to chat.
Eileen pulled Brooke to the side. “You have to help me get rid of him.”
“Get rid of him? But why?” If anything, this was an issue for Brooke to worry about. Eileen had done nothing wrong, unless you counted poor impulse control but Brooke wasn’t in any position to judge.
“The fool has come up with the most outlandish idea. He wants to marry me.”
Brooke nearly choked on her own spit. “M-m-marry you?”
Eileen leaned in closer to whisper. “He said it’s the honorable thing to do, and that he’s afraid he’s disrespected me.”
Brooke covered her mouth to avoid cussing. This was turning out to be far worse than she could have anticipated. Ever the gentleman, Giarcarlo would now want make an honest woman out of Eileen. If only someone would drag the gentle Italian into the twenty-first century.
“Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. I believe we can count on him to be discreet, so no need to worry on that account. He’ll keep his mouth shut. Let me talk to him.”
“Thank you. I can’t deal with a love sick gentleman caller, although it is kind of nice. But I have potatoes to whip and butter to melt. A turkey to baste. Marriage is not part of tonight’s agenda.” Eileen recited the items off while she threw occasional lustful glances in Giancarlo’s direction.
Brooke took a deep breath and flew into crisis mode. She caught sight of Mom, seemingly under Pop’s spell. Laughing, even. That seemed under control for now.
She moved to join Billy, still talking to Giancarlo, less that situation veer wildly off course. Surely Giancarlo would not think to confide in Eileen’s son, or ask for her hand in marriage. No, that would be highly irregular.
Brooke sidled up next to Billy, and he threaded his fingers through hers without missing a beat. It didn’t take two seconds to realize the men were talking grapes. Thank heavens for that. She gazed up at Billy, amazed at how much he’d learned in the past two months.
The past few late nights spread out in front of his fireplace tasting different vintages— encouraging him to develop a sophisticated palate— they were beginning to make a difference.
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