THE STARLIGHT HILL COMPLETE COLLECTION: 1-8

by Bell, Heatherly

  Naturally, her resources notwithstanding, she’d had no shortage of volunteers. It was now official news in town that Billy Turlock was back in town and the new owner of Mirassu winery. Those records were public, after all. Consequently the local media made a habit of parking at the end of the long sloped driveway. Brooke had campaigned for that, since Billy often allowed them up into the tasting room parking lot.

  But he’d listened when Brooke told him that they might chase away prospective customers. He hadn’t listened when it came to the so-called friends and ‘fans’ who had assembled to help in the frantic push to harvest in time. She couldn’t very well argue that point since she needed all the help she could amass. And frankly, with the before dawn hours the job entailed, it meant that the crowd of volunteers were hard-core fans.

  She was grateful, even if it meant she’d had to rise before dawn too so she could issue careful instructions and make certain all the volunteers were doing it right. But now, every grape had been harvested. Time to crush.

  “Next year, we’ll have special wine crushing events – folks love that stuff. One place even sells t-shirts with the customer’s wine stained footprints on it.”

  “Great idea,” Billy said.

  They were in the tank room, where they’d place some of their newly crushed grapes. “I’m going to check the tanks right now. Abe will help me with that.”

  “Something wrong?”

  “Abe said he thought there was a leak in tank ten. I’ll check it out.”

  “Let me know if you need me. I’m meeting with Coach Buchanan in the tasting room.”

  “Again?” Seemed like the coach at Starlight High was always hanging around, like a little puppy dog at Billy’s elbow.

  “If he wants my advice, he’ll taste the wine.” Billy grinned, making Brooke’s knees a little weak.

  Even if she should be a little upset with him, for parceling out his time the way he did. His family and the winery did come first, but he still found plenty of time to talk baseball with the locals. Now the baseball coaches from the entire Bay Area had zoned in on the fact that Billy was generous with his time.

  Which meant Brooke was getting ready to stick a plug in that, whether he liked it or not.

  No matter, today Pop was here and he’d turned out to be one of her greatest allies. Once you got past all the baseball analogies, which went right over her head. Maybe she could get him to talk to Billy.

  She’d left Pop guarding the Pinot Grigio row in his favorite lawn chair. He’d take a nap or two there and when he woke he’d remind Brooke that he was very close to finding out the prize winning tip.

  She wasn’t holding her breath. “Abe, help me push this ladder to the tank so I can check it.”

  “No miss, I’ll do that.”

  She waved him away. “Don’t be silly. I know what I’m looking for. It will only take a minute.”

  Abe found the ladder and pushed it to the tank, and Brooke clattered up to the top. The tank room had an equal mix of modern tanks and the old wooden barrels, because tourists enjoyed the old ways. Today she would check out one of the modern tanks because the level was lower than it should be.

  “Careful,” Abe warned.

  Funny how no man in the business, whether farm hand or owner, believed a woman could know what was wrong with a tank. Maybe she couldn’t fix it, but she’d know if it required fixing. Besides, this was part of getting her hands dirty, and being in every part of the business.

  “Abe, can you give me a hand?” one of the farm hands called out.

  “In a minute,” Abe answered, spotting Brooke.

  “I’m fine. Go ahead.” She was almost done here anyway.

  Brooke stepped back down the ladder, but she probably shouldn’t have worn her flip flops as the edge wanted to stick to every step. Cal-Osha would have her hide. A casualty of living on the premises. She’d begun to feel too safe, too much at home in the work place.

  Brooke lost her balance halfway down the ladder, and no matter how hard she tried to recover, she was falling.

  There was that damn ground again, rising up to meet her.

  * * *

  “I’m seeing too many injuries at younger and younger ages,” Coach Buchanan was saying. “I figured you would understand better than anyone. I have half a dozen players who remind me of you. They’re that promising. But my pitcher has been injured twice this season.”

  “I hear you.” Billy understood, but had no clue how to help. Injuries happened. The shoulder or elbow wore out sooner or later.

  “We need to change the way they throw.”

  “That’s tough.”

  “Don’t I know it. But they’re still young, and I figure if we’re going to do this, now’s the time.”

  “We had someone come out and try to teach us a new way to throw, and it didn’t go over well.” After throwing one way for most of his life, he’d been worried about losing speed. Same with most of the other players.

  “I wish I’d known about the better way to throw when you were in high school. Who knows? It might have saved the shoulder.”

  He wondered if he would have listened even then. “Do you think they’re open to it?”

  Coach sighed. “I doubt it, but I have to try. Did you know I’m retiring this year?”

  “Congratulations.” It seemed about time, since Coach had been a fixture at Starlight Hill even before Billy had attended.

  “Well don’t congratulate me yet. I’ve been tasked to find my replacement.”

  Billy didn’t like the way Coach looked at him now, like maybe he thought he’d just found his replacement. “Any luck?”

  “Not much. Do you think you might be interested?”

  Nothing like coming straight to the point, but that was Coach. “Well—”

  Billy was about to decline when Abe came rushing into the tasting room, white-faced. “It’s Miss Brooke. She fell. Hurry.”

  Billy didn’t hear anything else but the thudding of his heartbeat in his ear drums. He recognized that his heart rate had spiked, not an easy thing to do any more.

  He ran after Abe, and found her lying at the bottom of Tank #10. Luke, one of the farm hands, held her hand. “She’s so white. She always this white?”

  Billy knelt beside her and grabbed her other hand. Her eyes were half-mast, but thank God she was conscious. “What happened?”

  “No Mom, I don’t want any more shampoo.” Her hand reached out and swatted him away.

  So the floor had beaten the sense out of her. “What are you talking about, Bungee?”

  Her eyes fixed on him, and comprehension dawned in her eyes. “Hey, you haven’t called me that since…”

  “Right after you bungee jumped off the bridge?” He let out a breath and gathered Brooke in his arms. If she remembered his nickname for her, he wasn’t too worried. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  “Good idea,” Abe said. “Best to get checked out.”

  “Bad idea. Put me down. I haven’t been to the ER in three months. I don’t want to break this streak.”

  “You just broke it.” Her hair smelled sweet, a little like cranberries, as Billy carried her to his convertible.

  “Can I help?” Coach Buchanan had followed him to the car.

  “I’ll call you later. But would you get my grandfather home?” He climbed in the driver’s side.

  “If you insist on taking me, go get my purse. I have my member’s discount card in it,” Brooke said.

  “I hope you’re kidding, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll take care of it.” Within seconds he’d pulled out of the lot.

  “That stupid ground,” Brooke kept muttering to herself on the drive.

  Unfortunately she kept dozing, and he saw no other way of keeping her awake than periodically pinching her left arm. This did work and accomplish its purpose, even if it earned him Defcon 4 glares peppered with some cuss words.

  Luckily the hospital was only a two mile drive into the heart of town, and Billy
pulled in near the ER entrance. He carried a groggy Brooke in through the revolving doors and set her down in front of the reception desk. Brooke still seemed unsteady on her feet, so he held her up by keeping one arm wrapped around her.

  A pretty redhead named Donna was the triage nurse, and she recognized Brooke. “Oh, Brooke. What now? Another concussion?”

  “She fell, and seemed disoriented.” Billy explained, looking down at Brooke. He’d forgotten how petite she was standing next to him.

  “Don’t let them stiff you.” Brooke turned her head up to him. “I come here a lot.”

  The nurse had Brooke sign a form and then wrapped a name band around her wrist. “Follow me,” she said and he walked through the double doors with Brooke.

  It would take someone large and burly to keep him away. No one tried, even the security guard who stared like he was trying to place Billy.

  Donna settled Brooke on a cot and then glanced at him. “Usually no one back here but family, but I think we can make an exception for you.”

  “What a surprise,” Brooke said, eyes barely open.

  “She keeps dozing off. I’ve been pinching her to keep her awake,” Billy said.

  “Don’t worry,” Brooke said to Donna. “I will pinch him back. I just need to regain my strength.”

  He watched Donna set a blood pressure cuff on Brooke and he assumed, take her vital signs.

  “I’ll get the doctor.” Donna smiled and touched his shoulder right before she pulled the curtains shut.

  “Billy, I think she’s sweet on you,” Brooke said once Donna left the room. “Isn’t everybody?”

  He sighed. No, not everybody. There was one hard headed woman who had put up walls too high to climb. “Whatever you say.”

  “Now he tells me. Don’t try to get on my good side.”

  “Do you think you have one?” Although as far as he was concerned, every side was a good one. Left side, right side, front side, and his favorite: the back side. The problem was her heart. Closed up tight.

  Maybe even because of him.

  The doctor arrived, and other than a brief nod to Billy, the man’s focus was entirely on his patient. The consummate professional, thank goodness.

  Billy waited for the tests he knew would be coming. As a kid he’d once been knocked out by a fast ball so he recognized the procedure. He also realized someone would need to stay with Brooke tonight to make certain she’d wake every few hours. And that someone would be him, no matter what she had to say about it.

  “Mild concussion. Again,” Dr. Lewis said a few interminable hours and several tests later. “So you know the drill. Someone to wake you every few hours. Do you want me to call someone for you?”

  “No,” Billy said, standing. “I brought her and I’ll take her home. We’re neighbors. It makes sense.”

  “Don’t let him. He only wants to have his way with me,” Brooke said. “And all he’s getting is one helluva pinch.”

  “How long will she talk crazy like this?” Billy asked the doctor.

  “I don’t know,” he deadpanned, “Another forty years, maybe?”

  “Look at that, the doctor made a funny. It happens once every ten years, and you were here to see it, Billy.” Brooke sat up, appearing nearly recovered.

  Billy knew better. The interminable night stretched out in front of him, and damned if he didn’t anticipate every last second of it.

  * * *

  Billy Turlock was a royal pain in the ass. Not just because he’d swooped in and picked her up in his arms like he was some kind of firefighter hero, but also because of the pinching. He’d brought her home, plopped her down on the couch and wouldn’t leave. To add insult to injury, now he wouldn’t let her sleep.

  Sure, she understood she had to wake every few hours, but did he have to take such pleasure in it?

  “Wake up, Bungee.” He nudged her. “It’s been long enough.”

  “Stop calling me that,” Brooke swatted his hand away. “And stop waking me up. I was enjoying myself.”

  “You’re telling me,” Billy said with a grin. “What were we doing in your dream? You said my name a couple of times.”

  “What?” Brooke sat straight up, stone cold sober. “I did not. I’m not sleepy any more. How about some coffee?”

  She couldn’t figure out if he was teasing her, or if some of her subconscious mind was out of control. Had she been dreaming of him again? She got up and starting switching lights on.

  It needed to be bright in here. “These stay on all the time.”

  “I thought it didn’t matter since you were asleep.”

  “Well, it matters.” She wasn’t going to be telling any more of her secrets tonight.

  After they’d argued for a few minutes over who would make the coffee she finally let him, then flicked on the TV to a re-run of Gilligan’s Island. Billy sat next to her, uncomfortably and achingly close.

  “I changed my mind,” Brooke said after a few minutes, changing the channel. “I don’t want to watch this stupid show. I always wanted to be like Ginger but instead I was Mary Ann.”

  “No way. You’re a Ginger if I ever saw one.” Billy set down the coffee mugs, grabbed the remote and switched it back on.

  “Stop teasing me. I don’t have red hair and I’m not tall. That would be Donna the nurse. I’m sure you noticed her?”

  “You’re a short blonde Ginger,” he said with a sexy grin. “A short, stacked, blonde Ginger.”

  “Give me that,” she said wrestling the remote control back. “What we need is a scary movie to make you think twice about teasing me again. Something about those women who snap.”

  “I’m all right with that. If you get scared, I don’t mind holding you until it passes. It would be a hardship, but I’m willing to do it. You fell on my property and it’s my responsibility.”

  Brooke channel surfed for a few minutes but there wasn’t anything as scary on TV as those words had hit Brooke. She settled on a program about the rain forest.

  Was it the concussion, or was she starting to feel some deeper affection for Billy? For the man who was, let’s face it, a jock and her boss. No, Brooke, do not go there again.

  Especially not with him.

  She must have drifted off a while later because the next time she woke sunlight filtered through the curtains, and her head was in Billy’s lap. She raised her head to find him asleep as well, all the planes of that handsome face oddly relaxed. Usually he was so upbeat, friendly, energetic. Wound up tight as a guitar chord. She’d never seen him so— helpless. Vulnerable.

  This would be the perfect time to pinch him. Instead she wanted to take a tour of his face, of his arms, his chest, and his abs. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. Or her, for that matter.

  He had bed hair, tousled and spilling over one eye. Unfairly long eyelashes. Damn him. She wasn’t so set on her type that she didn’t notice Billy put the H in hunk. Earlier he’d pushed up his long sleeves to his forearms, and she admired the cord of muscle strands in his arms. She took a closer look at the tattoo on his forearm. A nautical tattoo of an anchor, with the words Hold Fast across the top. He had one arm slung over her, and the other stretched out on the back of the couch. All her movement under his arm, and he hadn’t moved a muscle. Poor guy was probably exhausted, keeping her awake. Of course he hadn’t tried the fun way of keeping her awake.

  Mostly because Billy Turlock was a gentleman.

  She could straddle him right now, and wake him up a way she didn’t think he would mind. Then together they could stay awake for hours. She’d thread her fingers through that long silky hair, and kiss along the beard stubble until she reached his mouth.

  She wanted to connect the dots again. Even if this time it would have to be different. They were both ten years older, and he’d been around the block a few times since then. And she’d been, if not around, then at least nearby.

  She moved on to his lap and straddled him, and he still didn’t wake. Did the man sleep like the dea
d, or what? Brooke was about to touch a single lock of his hair when a tiny alarm sounded from the direction of his wrist.

  An omen. A literal alarm, setting off the warning that should have been in her head had it not been hit so hard today. She scrambled off his lap as he shifted and opened one eye. Whew, that was close.

  He fiddled with his wristwatch. “I set this to wake you up, but you beat me to it. How long have you been awake?”

  “Oh, um, I just woke up too.” Brooke ran her tongue over her teeth. Did she have morning breath? Did he? Should she find out?

  Bad idea, Brooke.

  Even if it was risky and dangerous, two of her favorite things in the world. It so happened she was too vulnerable right now. Probably starting to miss sex. Well, no probably about it.

  “You can go now, Hotshot. Its morning and you’ve done your duty.”

  “Are you sure? Because I provide a shower service as well,” he said with a mischievous grin.

  And wouldn’t that be fun. It took every muscle in her body to restrain herself from tackling him.

  His cellphone rang before she could answer, and he glanced at it and scowled. “Gigi.”

  “Go ahead, take the call. But please don’t tell her you spent the night with me, concussion or not. I don’t want her flying out here again.”

  He cracked a smile. “You’re probably right.”

  “Sure. I’ll see you later.” She walked with him to the front door, shut it behind him and leaned against it.

  Time to meet a man. She had to start dating again. Since she literally lived at her job, it might be difficult but she’d have to find the time. If she was ever going to get her mind and heart off the bright and shiny distraction that was Billy Turlock, it would be necessary.

  8

  Gigi had to be psychic. Otherwise, how could she have such evil timing?

  He could see something shift in Brooke’s amber eyes. Maybe she’d opened up to him a little bit. He didn’t want to embarrass her, but at least in her dreams he was getting somewhere. Now to translate that into real life so he might enjoy it as well.