Sweet Ivey. She could talk the red off a stop sign. Interesting how she made conversation with someone she knew only in passing, but she managed to do it for a few minutes before she finally hung up.
“He even sounds sexy,” Ivey said as she put the phone down.
Hence part of the problem. And he looked even better than he sounded which wasn’t fair. “What did you say, Mrs. Garner? Who sounds sexy?”
Ivey blushed. “You heard me.”
“What did Billy say?”
“He said he wanted to make arrangements for you to come out to the vineyard.”
Of course. He’d want her opinion on the condition of the grapes. He’d want her opinion on everything if he wanted her as a general manager. “How did he sound?”
“He sounded like a guy.”
“I mean did he sound pompous, like he’s about to get what he wants? Again?”
“Not sure how you sound pompous, but I still have to say no. He sounded friendly, fun, you know, like a ball player. So are you going to take the job or not?”
It would be satisfying to help Billy’s winery be real competition for Serrano’s. “I’m thinking about it. Don’t rush me. But you know, if I only bide my time and let him fail…then I could swoop in and save the day, and buy the vineyard after all.” Maybe Billy would sell it back to her at a discount. Or maybe he’d even let her finance one of those seller notes she’d seen on late night informercials. Did people still do that?
“Or you might have to sit and watch the place be a resounding success with the help of some other general management firm.”
“Ugh, yeah. So you see my problem. Damn him. Either way Billy has always been a thorn in my side.”
5
“Dude, have you heard from Brooke yet?”
Had to be the tenth time Scott has asked. It had been a week, and he’d heard no word from her after he’d followed up on her email to him. Seemed as though maybe she’d changed her mind again.
“No. I called, and it’s up to her now.” Billy massaged his right shoulder. It had been killing him today, and the carpentry work wasn’t helping. Still, no way would he let an entire crew work on the place while he stood around and supervised.
He’d been staying on a cot here alone at nights, and it was everything he’d expected. The silence of the night, the cool evening breeze. Every part of this place agreed with him. It had been a great idea, even if Pop still couldn’t find the prize-winning tip. No matter, Billy would make this new venture work.
With any luck, he’d have Brooke at his side too. And if he’d been overly generous in his offer, he could afford it and she’d be worth it. He’d asked around, and Brooke had built a solid reputation with the wine buyers he’d talked to. They spoke of her expertise and professionalism. Of course he hadn’t talked to any of his competition yet, certainly not the Serrano winery. To hear most tell it, George Serrano was an asshole who treated his employees no better than a King would treat a pageboy. Made sense Brooke had moved on.
And yeah, he’d checked her out even more. Plenty of speeding tickets and one exhibition of speed which only peaked his curiosity. No marriages. No children. Still single, thank God. Not that he wouldn’t keep it professional. They’d start off on the right note, and if something developed later, perhaps, along the way as they worked together and celebrated victories…well, he wouldn’t kick her out of his bed. Let’s put it that way.
Despite all that, if he didn’t hear back from her in a matter of days he’d have to move on. There were several management companies chomping at the bit for the project. Any of them would do the job, but none of them were Brooke.
“Put that down,” Wallace shouted over the sanding machine. “Do you want Ma to kick my ass? No more shoulder surgeries.”
“I’m fine,” Billy said, but he put the sheetrock down and walked outside to the balcony overlooking the fields.
He breathed in the sweet smell, and reminded himself he should be happy. Most people would die a thousand deaths to see the view in front of him. A view he would see every morning.
Instead all he could think about was another field— a baseball diamond, to be precise. If he closed his eyes he could smell the freshly cut grass, the chalk outlining the field, the leather of his worn mitt. But that was his past, and this vineyard was the future. And he had to admit, every time he thought of Brooke the future began to appear increasingly … appealing.
“The guys are taking a break,” Wallace said, walking up to Billy with a cold beer. “And of course Scott is taking one with them.”
Billy took a swig. “Think we’re putting a curse on this place by drinking beer in front of it?”
“Turn around and don’t let them see if you’re worried about it,” Wallace said with an eye roll.
“Right.” Billy chuckled. Wallace had a way of bringing things back to perspective.
“Did you give away your Series tickets yet?”
“How do you know I’m not going?” One of the most annoying facts about having brothers was the way they could read his mind.
Wallace waved his arm around the place. “This.”
Billy shoved his free hand in his pocket. “It’ll take up most of my time, until we get it off the ground.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t go to the series, but something tells me you’re not.”
Late September, and the Sliders were already out. His replacement, a trade from Milwaukee, had a fair season but not a series worthy-season. Billy could relate.
“What’s the point?” He couldn’t be on the mound or in the dugout, so he might as well not be there at all.
“Have you heard from Brooke yet?”
“Not yet.” He’d had enough. An athlete didn’t sulk. Not much anyway, and then it was time to move on.
“You know, just because you’re not playing ball anymore doesn’t mean you can’t go to the games.” Wallace changed the subject.
But other times, walking away from something or someone you loved deserved a clean break. “Right now, it does. Otherwise I’ll just tease myself with what I can’t have.”
Wallace clapped his back. “I hear you. But no one’s ever going to stop associating you with baseball. Just so you know, bro.”
And he wasn’t altogether certain he wanted them to stop, either. There was the rub. “Who knows? Maybe someday they’ll associate me with wine.” He held up his beer bottle.
Wallace glanced from him to the bottle and back again. Then he reared back on his heels and let out the Turlock laugh. All right, it was funny. He’d need to start drinking wine. Pronto.
“We need to talk about something else,” Wallace said.
Sounded strangely ominous. “You have my attention.”
“It’s Ma. She’s signed up for some internet dating service.” Wallace scowled.
“No.”
“Yeah. She said she’s sixty-three now and has a few good years left in her, and now she’s lost twenty pounds and feels like Elizabeth Taylor.”
“I knew it couldn’t just be a health kick. She lost weight to get a man.”
“I don’t know. I can’t even let my mind go there.”
Billy nodded. “Understood.”
“So you should talk to her.”
“Me?”
“She listens to you. But I was thinking, maybe if we get her a bit more involved in this place. We could keep her mind off it.”
That had been the plan, though he still wasn’t sure what Mom could do. “What did you have in mind?”
“Hell if I know. Add some stuff to the menu? At least, that’s what I suggested to her.”
It was one of the many items he wanted to discuss with Brooke. He’d seen the former Mirassu small menu of appetizer food to compliment wines, and wondered if they could expand on that.
“I’ll think about it. But no wet greens. Or tofu.” This was a winery. There should be cheese, and crackers. Fruit, probably. Beyond that, he had no clue.
Wallace nodded. “I hea
r ya. And we’re almost done here with your renovation. I’ll be taking my crew after we’re done here up to Sausalito for a job.”
Right. Wallace never stayed in one place for long, going where the work took him.
“This place is amazing,” Mom’s voice could be heard carrying through the empty main house. “Come along, Pop. A little faster. Right up these steps. Here we go.”
Billy walked back into the house. “Hey, Ma. What do you think?”
“It’s like paradise. Like Italy or something. And to think it was all Pop’s idea.” She patted Pop’s back.
“Well, Billy’s realtor found the place,” Pop said. “I think I better go take a look at those grapes, son. It’s time to harvest.”
Billy realized that, hence the pressure to get Brooke on board.
Right now he couldn’t picture Pop walking the length of ten acres along the hilly land. “Did you find what you were looking for yet?”
“Nope, but I’m getting close. I can sense it.”
“Boys, I brought you all a snack. Don’t worry, there’s enough for everybody.” Mom headed to the kitchen with whatever kind of punishment she had for them today.
“Thanks, Ma, but if I want to finish this renovation on time I need to get back to work.” Wallace said with a wince.
“Fine, but you’ll regret it. They’re whole wheat brownies made with carob. None of the horrible processed sugar that has single-handedly killed so many people.”
“I wish it would kill me now,” Pop said with a scowl.
“Let’s take a look at the grapes,” Billy said as he clapped a hand on Pop’s back.
* * *
“All right, here we go.” Brooke said out loud to no one.
She’d just passed the stoned entryway with the Vineyard placard and photo of a hummingbird, Mirassu’s trademark. Putted up to the top of the circular driveway. Now all she had to do was get off her Harley, walk up to Billy and check out the grapes.
Any time now.
Crap. Brooke took off her helmet and rested her forehead on the handle bar. Why had Billy always had the ability to at once draw her in and also make her want to run in the other direction?
So what if she still remembered that kiss? The one in which he’d pretty much sucked the marrow right out of her. It was a long time ago and she was certain he didn’t remember it. He’d had a lot of experience with women even back in high school, and she’d had zip with boys.
None of this mattered because he wasn’t her type. Long haired baseball jock with a beard and moustache. Dressed in baseball caps and not GQ suits. Probably didn’t even own a suit.
He wouldn’t be expecting her, because she hadn’t called ahead. If they were going to do this, she had to be certain Billy was serious. Wanted to make sure she wouldn’t find a harem of baseball groupies at the place. Did he want to make wine or collect women? Today she would find out.
And okay, maybe she shouldn’t get her news from Look Here! Magazine, but in the past the periodical had portrayed Billy Turlock as a love `em and leave `em playboy. And it’s not like she had any other image with which to replace him, since she didn’t know him anymore.
Billy could date whoever he wanted to, no skin off her nose, but he’d have to put this business first if they were going to beat George at his own game. She wanted that almost as much as she wanted her own piece of land. To see Mirassu rise up again, courtesy of one Brooke Miller. Let the townspeople talk about that.
Nervous breakdown her ass.
Revenge wrenched her off the bike. Marched her up to the entrance, where workers came out of the main house carrying sheetrock. There seemed to be workers everywhere. In the yard, on the roof. Definitely some improvements going on here. A good sign.
Scott Turlock waved to her. “Brooke! Over here.”
She remembered Scott, the youngest Turlock brother, a soldier and Jeff’s roommate for a time. He’d been welcomed home with a parade when he’d returned from a tour of duty a year ago. She’d been one of many in the crowd.
“I’m here to see Billy,” Brooke said. “And the grapes.” Just in case Scott didn’t realize how serious she was about all this.
“Of course you are. Right this way.” Scott hooked his finger and turned to lead the way.
Brooke had only been in the Mirassu winery once, a few years ago. She was gratified to still see the fine rosewood floors, Tuscan gold walls, and the balcony leading to a breathtaking view of the vineyards below.
Speaking of breathtaking, Scott pointed towards Billy before he turned and walked back outside. Billy, the picture of concentration, had a pencil over one ear and was measuring some sheetrock. His long shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, displaying cords of muscles. A tool belt hung low on his blue jeans. For now, she would excuse the turned around baseball cap on his head.
This ex-ball player made one fine construction worker.
Brooke cleared her throat. “Ahem.”
Billy turned, the concentration shifting into a smile which took over his entire face. “Hey.”
Brooke swallowed. “I’m here to check out the grapes.”
He set down his pencil and shrugged off his tool belt. “Does that mean you’re considering my offer?”
“That’s what it means.” She’d be an idiot not to consider it, and she might be a lot of things but idiot was not one of them.
“That’s great, Brooke. Just great.”
“Well. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“Right. Come this way.”
She followed him to the balcony trying to avert her eyes from his fine ass. How pathetic would it be if someone caught her staring at his ass?
“Quite a view, isn’t it?” Billy asked.
Oh dang, busted. Wait. Was he now complimenting his own ass? Aha! He was every bit the conceited jock.
It took her a minute to realize Billy was talking about the vineyard, as he reached the balcony. “It’s twenty acres.”
“I know.”
Twenty acres of prime California real estate. A large manor house with a banquet room, kitchen, large wine bar. Living quarters in the back. She wondered what it would be like to survey the land below and realize it was all yours. She could only guess: pretty freaking awesome.
She caught a sight below which startled her. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but an old man is sitting there in a lawn chair. Right along the first row.”
“Yep. That’s Pops.” He turned to her like that should explain everything.
“Who is Pops and why is he sitting among m—” Brooke corrected herself, because she was about to call them her grapes. “Your grapes?”
“You don’t remember my grandfather? It’s a long story, but he’s a big part of this enterprise. It was his idea, actually. He’s always wanted to own a vineyard. As a young man, he used to occasionally work the fields. He had a small vineyard in his backyard in Saratoga before he retired.”
Brooke blinked. She happened to know the Bay Area was replete with do it yourself wine connoisseurs. “Oh, good. But this is a little different.”
“That’s why you’re here.” Billy smiled again, something she wished he wouldn’t do quite so often, and something went limp inside Brooke.
“Right. Let’s take a look at those grapes.”
Together they made their way down the hilly rows and rows of vines, Billy always leading, and never failing to look behind him and offer her his hand. She didn’t take his hand once, but it didn’t seem to faze him.
The grapes on the Chardonnay row looked good. Great, even. Same with the Pinot and the Cabernet row, though they were as ready and ripe as they’d ever be. Billy explained the bank had seen their value, and made sure to take care with their upkeep. Smart, and something she’d have expected.
“Everything looks fine here,” Brooke said as she turned to follow Billy back down a hill. She lost her footing and fell right into Billy’s rock hard chest with a smack.
She noticed he didn’t waste any ti
me steadying her, putting large hands around her waist. “Okay?” he asked.
Okay was a relative term. She wasn’t okay with the fact that his touch had sent a small shiver down her spine, and the way he gazed at her with hot eyes wasn’t helping the situation, either. “I’m not usually such a klutz.”
“Too bad. I’m thinking all I need is for you to say yes to being my general manager, and this becomes the best day I’ve had in months.” The smile stayed in his eyes this time.
Just like that she was thrown back to a time years ago when he’d kissed the fear right out her.
“Look—” she began, and was startled by the sound of someone shouting Billy’s name.
“Did you hear me, son?” It was Pop, the old man, calling out from his chair several yards away in the Chardonnay rows.
Great. Had he seen the two of them? Brooke pulled out of Billy’s arms.
“Yeah, Pop? I’m right here.” Billy marched in his direction. If he was disappointed at their interruption, he gave no indication.
Brooke breathed a sigh of relief as she followed him.
They found the old man staring at the grapes as though he could breathe in their goodness. She knew the feeling. “You know what I’m thinking?” he asked Billy.
“What’s that?”
“I’m thinking this is a real good start.” Pop said, winking from his chair.
“Yeah,” Billy said, throwing her a panty-melting look. “I’d have to say the same.”
“And who is this young beauty?” Pop asked, finally noticing her.
“I’m Brooke Miller, sir.” She stuck out her hand.
“If we’re lucky,” Billy added, “she’ll be our new general manager. Brooke knows the business, inside and out. And we used to go to school together.”
“Is that right? Well, well, well.” The old man said, and then shut his eyes like it was time for a nap.
Brooke worried a nail between her teeth. If this were a family affair, Grandpa here should mostly serve as a mascot. She hated to break it to him, but the grapes didn’t need him to keep watch.
“It’s time to go, Pop,” an older woman said as she joined them. “Oh, hello. Who have we here?”
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