THE STARLIGHT HILL COMPLETE COLLECTION: 1-8

by Bell, Heatherly

  “You want to help me out? Get out of my way,” Brooke gave one last swift kick to Fallon’s cart. Those kick boxing DVDs were coming in handy.

  “Think about it,” Fallon called out as Brooke got in line and paid for her purchases.

  Think about it. Sure. She’d think about how Fallon suddenly wanted to be friends, after mostly ignoring Brooke since Fallon had waltzed back into town after her third divorce. Not like they’d ever been besties. Fallon had been part of the preppy squad back in high school, right along with Billy.

  She put her groceries in the saddle bags and hopped on her Harley. Fifty dollars were coming to whoever identified her in the photo. In this town, someone would do it for fifty cents. It was like igniting a flame of competition among the townspeople, all a bunch of nuts with way too much time on their hands.

  At least Stephan’s blog was followed by about twenty people. So it wouldn’t go far, not that it mattered if it went any farther than Starlight Hill because people were going to try to make her miserable until she fessed up.

  Well she wasn’t going to do that. Brooke Miller was made of stronger stuff. Their little afternoon indiscretion was the end of it, anyway. Running into Fallon had only reinforced the fact that she and Billy were too different. They were friends now, and her goal was for Mirassu to rise again and clobber Serrano.

  She’d happily do that with a smile on her face, but she wasn’t going to be one in a long line of Billy Turlock baseball groupies.

  After she’d dropped off her groceries at home, she headed out for the baseball diamond at Starlight Hill High. That’s where she knew he’d be, probably signing more autographs and acting like a demi-god. She’d have to take him away from his admirers, because there was a fifty dollar bounty on her head thanks to her unique taste in boots.

  Brooke pulled up to the back of the school and the field. One thing you could say about Starlight Hill besides its perfect grape growing weather was its unflagging support for sports. She’d been on the wrong end of that loyalty more than once. The turf on this field had been replaced before it needed to be, all while the theatre still had the same cloth ripped seats since the 1960s. Brooke wasn’t into theatre, but she had always supported the underdog, not that it had done much good.

  The resounding crack of a bat sailed through the nippy November afternoon. Brooke turned and saw Billy up to bat.

  “Better. Try again,” she heard him yell.

  Then he dropped the bat and walked out to the guy in the middle who’d been throwing the ball.

  Giving up baseball? Who did he think he was fooling? And why did he have to look so good while not giving up baseball? He wore blue jeans, a jean jacket that had seen better days and a ball cap on backwards. And still he made her mouth water.

  Brooke didn’t know much about the game, but she thought she could identify the pitcher. He was standing in the same spot Billy had during the one game she’d been to years ago. Then let’s see, there were first base, second base, third base and fourth base. Or was it home run base?

  She marched to the edge of the field and shouted Billy’s name. Before long, she not only had Billy’s attention but the attention of every jock on the field. They all turned to stare at her. It’s as if they could tell just by her posture she didn’t belong here.

  But Billy smiled, and walked towards her. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

  “I should ask you that question.”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “It looks like you’re playing baseball.”

  “Very observant of you.” His hand scrubbed his beard, and he grinned even bigger if it were possible.

  “But I thought you were done with baseball.”

  “I am.” Still smiling.

  “Doesn’t look that way.” She jutted her chin in the direction of the boys, who seemed to be throwing the ball around now.

  “I’m done, but these boys aren’t. They need some help.” He turned in their direction, then back to Brooke.

  “Why? He threw the ball and you hit it. Seems to be working just fine.”

  “Well, Brooke, he needs to throw the ball so I can’t hit it.”

  “Why would he want to do that?”

  “Because if he throws the ball over the plate fast enough, no one can hit it.”

  “But what’s the point?”

  “Getting me out. No one makes a run if the pitcher is doing his job.”

  “Are you kidding me? Are you telling me the whole point of this game is for nothing to happen?”

  He sighed. “Do you want me to teach you baseball? Because I can do that later.”

  Brooke handed him her phone. “We have a little problem. It seems a picture of us wound up on a website and there’s a bounty on my head.”

  Billy frowned as he looked at the blog she’d pulled up. “It’s not a very good photo.”

  “No, but it seems fairly clear what these two people are doing. I told you this would happen.”

  “All right, but who cares? How many people are going to see this?” He handed her back the phone.

  “It doesn’t matter how many, if one of them is Gigi.”

  He shook his head. “This is a small blog run by someone with too much time on his hands. She won’t see it. And it doesn’t matter if she does.”

  “You kissed me and someone took a photo of it!”

  “Actually, Bungee, you kissed me. Not that I was complaining.”

  Had she kissed him first? He’d certainly kissed back. “Either way. I’m not sure this is the kind of publicity we need. Do you want everyone in town to think you’re a playboy?”

  “I learned a long time ago I can’t control what anyone thinks of me.” Billy suddenly reached out to the side of her head and caught a ball midair with his bare hand.

  Shouts and whoops of amazement came from the boys on the field.

  Billy turned and threw the ball back. “Guys, let’s keep it on the field.”

  “Doesn’t that hurt?” She stared at his red hand. The ball sailing through the air was supposed to be stopped with a gloved hand. Even she realized as much.

  “I’m fine. But your head wouldn’t have been, and you’ve already had one concussion on my watch.” He grinned again, shaking his hand out.

  Concussion. Yes, it could be the reason she kept staring in his eyes. She’d been hit in the head too hard. On the other hand, maybe she needed something or someone to knock some sense back into her.

  “Thanks. I guess you saved me.”

  “You’re welcome.” He grinned, and reached out to tuck a hair behind her ear. “Now do you want to go and stop distracting every male here?”

  She glanced in the direction of the kids, still throwing a ball around. “I’m not distracting them.”

  “You’re distracting me. I’m not thinking about baseball right now.”

  “Are you thinking about wine? Because you should be.”

  “Not even close.”

  She realized she was asking for it, but couldn’t seem to help herself. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

  “I’m thinking about you and me. How good it’s going to be when you finally stop thinking about the past. When you stop worrying about what other people think.”

  “But I’m not—”

  He interrupted her. “I’ll see you later for the tasting.”

  Then he turned and went back to the boys.

  He had it all wrong. She didn’t care what anyone thought, never had. Did he know her at all? Okay, she cared a little bit about what Gigi thought because she might have some influence on Billy. Had intimidated that Brooke might want to find another place to live. But more and more, it became apparent that Billy was in Starlight Hill living his own life and accountable to no one, least of all Gigi.

  Still, ten years ago he’d let her down. Then as now, he’d owed her nothing. And that’s exactly what he’d delivered.

  * * *

  Billy loved baseball. He liked talking baseball. Loved playing
baseball and always had, but now found he also liked watching the game when he had no skin in it.

  But as much he’d enjoyed being on the diamond with the kids, concentration had been in short supply. Especially when Brooke had arrived, back to the place where they’d first met, framing the fact that maybe it had been for the best that they’d never taken their friendship to the next level. With her ability to distract him, he might have never made it out of the minor leagues.

  Brooke was a mess of contradictions.

  A vixen and the girl next door.

  A daredevil and a scaredy-cat.

  He couldn’t figure her out, and knew better than to try. He’d meant what he said. She needed time to figure it out. And he’d be there when she did. It would be good. Hell, it would be fantastic. If only he could convince her of that fact.

  The photo bothered Brooke, and Billy understood that. Having photos taken without permission could be a helpless feeling, and Brooke wasn’t used to this kind of attention. If he’d learned anything from Gigi, it was how to control the media. Someone had once taken a photo of him scowling in the dugout after a bad inning. It got to the point where he didn’t want to move a muscle, self-conscious that his every move was being photographed and displayed on HD television.

  Contrary to many of his colleagues, he’d never grown comfortable in the limelight.

  But this was Starlight Hill, and Stephan had a two-bit blog he played around with. He refused to worry about it.

  And now, a few hours later at the tasting with Brooke, he had to admit, the romantic candlelit ambience at Giancarlo’s was perfect for a first date. Or a second one, if he wanted to count the picnic. But he was pretty sure Brooke didn’t count this as a date. It was, unfortunately, business.

  He watched with an odd mixture of pride and lust as Brooke stood at the bar nearby and uncorked bottle after bottle, pouring for Giancarlo, and discussing the attributes of each one. Even making suggestions as food pairings.

  “How about this girl, Billy?” Giancarlo said, pointing to Brooke. “Is she something? The woman knows her wine.”

  “She does.” She also knew how to fill out a sweater. Also how to kiss a guy till she’d sucked the marrow right out of him. He felt certain there was so much more she could do, and do very well, if only she’d let him find out.

  “Sit down, you two. You’re my guests for dinner tonight. It’s the least I can do.” Giancarlo waved them to a table.

  Billy pulled out the chair for Brooke, and she sat down. “I can get the chair for myself, you know.”

  “You’re going to argue with the man who saved you from a second concussion today?”

  She cracked a smile. “No. I guess I’m not.”

  “Good plan.”

  She leaned in and whispered across the table. “What are we doing about the blog?”

  Again they were back to the blog. “Why do we have to do anything about it?”

  “Should we just let them have their fun and guess who the mystery woman is?”

  “I think everyone knows it’s you, Brooke. What’s more, they want it to be you.” For good measure, he threw a look in Giancarlo’s direction, who smiled in their direction.

  “Not everyone.”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  “Gigi, for one. And your ex-girlfriend, Fallon.”

  He hadn’t spoken to Fallon in years. “What does she have to do with this?”

  “She accosted me in the market, and asked if I’d let people think it’s her. She has a pair of boots just like mine.”

  Of all the news he’d heard since arriving back home, that singular piece was probably the most upsetting. He’d thought to be rid of Fallon years ago, and she hadn’t even approached him since she’d been back. “Did she tell you that?”

  He felt pinned under Brooke’s stare, those hazel eyes shimmering in the candlelight. “She did. I’m guessing your ex is not over you. And even if she can’t have you, maybe she can have everyone think she has you.”

  “Yeah.” The burning sensation in his gut was not altogether unfamiliar. “Or maybe she can sell her story to the rags.”

  “Why would she do that?” Brooke reached for her wine glass and took a big swallow.

  “Money.” Maybe he’d have to call Gigi about this after all. Dammit.

  He didn’t want Gigi swooping in now. She’d find out about Brooke and try to make her sign a binding press agreement. He’d never been comfortable with having the women he dated sign on the dotted line and promise not to talk about their relationship after it ended. Why begin a relationship assuming it would end? Had he ever started a game assuming he would lose, he’d have had to kick his own ass on sheer stupidity alone.

  But he wasn’t just Billy Turlock any longer. He was Turlock, Inc. and he couldn’t forget it. His family depended on him. But Brooke depended on him, too. He liked the idea. It didn’t make him want to run in the other direction.

  “She wouldn’t dare,” Brooke said.

  Brooke was probably right. “If she hasn’t tried to sell her story of the ex-high school girlfriend by now, why would she?”

  “Because she’s on her third divorce?”

  Three marriages? He hadn’t exactly kept up with Fallon. “I’m not worried. You shouldn’t be, either.”

  “Is this why Gigi is so protective? Did something happen with a woman in the past?”

  Self-confession time. He had a stupid past with women. “A few something’s, actually. About a year ago I dated an actress.”

  “I think I saw a photo of you together in one of those tabloids.”

  “No doubt. There were quite a few of them. Every time we’d go out paparazzi would appear out of nowhere. Gigi began to get suspicious and sure enough, we found out every time we had plans to go out Mandy would call them so she could be sure they’d be there.”

  “She’d call the photographers?”

  “She’d give them the names and places we’d be. Little did I know she was trying to resuscitate a flagging career. Trying to stay relevant.”

  “You’re kidding. So she was just using you?”

  “Don’t look so surprised. But it’s one of the reasons Gigi is protective. The other one is more complicated. ”

  Brooke’s eyes were fixated on his, as if begging him to say more, even as he wondered if the whole thing made him look like a first class idiot. “And?”

  He guessed it was his cue to spill his guts. “And there was the time I was engaged.”

  Brooke blinked. “Oh. I didn’t know you’d been engaged before.”

  “Not my proudest moment. I didn’t know her very well, which of course was my own fault. She told me she was pregnant, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to ask her to marry me.”

  Brooke studied the tablecloth. “Did you love her?”

  “No.” He was no stranger to love, having plenty of it all his life. Love from his mother, grandfather, brothers, friends, faithful fans and colleagues. He’d always expected when he did fall in love it would be a little something like the deep love he had for his family, but it hadn’t ever happened. Plenty of lust, epic fails on love.

  “So you were going to marry someone you didn’t love?”

  “I was willing to try to make it work for the sake of the child, but she wasn’t ever pregnant. Faked the whole thing. Fortunately, she walked away with a promise not to talk about it for a nice sum of money.”

  “Geez. I feel like I have to apologize for my kind.”

  “I wish it had been the only time someone tried the fake baby angle. Problem was I’d never slept with any of those other women. I’d like to think I’m good, but damn, I’m not that good.”

  Brooke smiled. “I seem to remember some pretty big jock scandals made Look Here! Magazine.”

  “Everything they’ve ever printed about me is a bold faced lie. Please don’t tell me you read it.”

  “It depends on how long the line is at the supermarket.”

  “Good answer. I
’ve been luckier than most, or maybe it is because I have Gigi. But I’ve never been accused of a crime.” Even when allegations were proven to be false, for too many of his colleagues the stain remained. Mom and Pop wouldn’t have been able to bear it.

  “Suddenly Gigi is sounding rather compassionate. If it were me, those women wouldn’t be getting settlements. They’d be getting sentences.”

  “No mercy?” He rather enjoyed the same fierceness she’d once displayed for the whales and any other endangered species fixed on him. Brooke the fighter turned him on. She always had, except for when she pissed him off.

  The bus boy appeared for the third time to refill their water glasses. “Hey man, can I have an autograph?”

  “Sure.” Billy said, and took the man’s pen.

  “It’s great you don’t charge for them like everyone else does,” the kid said.

  Brooke raised a brow and stood up. “I need to talk to Giancarlo anyway.”

  He signed the autograph made out to Carlos and watched out of the corner of his eye as Brooke walked over to Giancarlo. Not like he should be jealous of a man who looked old enough to be Brooke’s father. He needed to get a grip if that were the case.

  He wasn’t a jealous man, but right now he wished Giancarlo wasn’t standing quite so close to Brooke. Their conversation peaked his interest when Giancarlo put a hand to his chest for a moment as if he’d just heard amazing news. Then he nodded, and wrote down something on a piece of paper.

  Brooke rejoined him at the booth. “Ready?”

  He stood, and waved to Giancarlo as he rested his hand on the small of Brooke’s back. “What was that all about?”

  Brooke looked up at him and seemed to hesitate. “I gave him my phone number. You know, so he could call me personally when he wants more wine cases.”

  “Right.” Billy kept walking, bothered more by every step.

  Part of his media training had involved spotting the tell, the language of liars. Over the years, he’d fine-tuned it. He didn’t know why, and could only hazard a guess as to why Brooke Miller had just lied to him.