Yes, this would work.
He’d finally calmed Pop down, and made him realize that his contribution to the family enterprise hung on more than an old frenemy’s secret recipe. The old man had listened, and decided that singing to the grapes would make them sweeter. If it worked as he thought it would, he planned to write down his own secret recipe, songs and lyrics included. Fine with Billy. Even Brooke had accepted Pop’s almost constant presence among the rows of vines. Every now and again Billy would catch her laughing with Pop, tossing that wild mane of hair, genuinely appearing interested in what he had to say. And every time something inside Billy’s heart cracked open.
Shit, he had it bad. Who would have thought in a million years he’d wind up falling for Brooke Miller? He had, for one. A long time ago. Ten years to be exact, from the first time he’d kissed Brooke Miller in his car after a Varsity basketball game.
All those years ago, he’d found her standing alone outside waiting for a ride, shivering in the cool January air.
“Hey, Bungee,” he’d said. “Did you come see the game?”
She’d given him the Death Stare. “Are you kidding me?”
“So, no?” He grinned. So what, he’d enjoyed pushing her buttons even then. “They won.”
“Oh joy.” She shivered in her thin short sleeved black top and jeans. No jacket. She might not be anything like the cheerleaders he usually dated, but when it came to clothing it seemed to him that all girls were created equal. Ill prepared.
He slipped off his varsity jacket and offered it to her. “Here.”
He might as well have offered her a rattlesnake for the way she looked at it.
He rolled his eyes. “Seriously?”
“My ride will be here any minute.” Her voice shook a little, probably from the cold.
“Suit yourself.”
A second later he caught her staring longingly at the jacket, and shoved it into her hands. “Thanks,” she said, falling into it.
She was so tiny that the sleeves of the jacket hung well over her hands. “What are you looking at, Hotshot?”
“You. Is that a crime?”
“Where’s your girlfriend?” She said the word girlfriend in the same tone one might say asshole.
“If you mean Fallon, we broke up.”
“Oh yeah? Why? Is she not perky enough?”
Well, hell, why not tell her? “I’m going to Chicago State on a full ride and I guess she’s upset I didn’t ask her to marry me and come along.” He shrugged. Women.
Brooke’s eyes widened. He’d probably never seen her that animated before. “You’re going to Chicago State?”
“Is that so shocking? My grades are good enough.” He didn’t appreciate the stupid label being attached to every jock.
Brooke shook her head. “No, it’s just that’s where I’m going.”
“Yeah?” That wasn’t a surprise, since Brooke might well be the smartest girl in the class of 2004.
Brooke nearly smiled at him. He hadn’t seen her smile much, but the few times he had there’d been a strong pull of lust that followed. It didn’t make any sense, but he figured he didn’t have any control over those natural impulses. Teenage guy and all.
“Maybe I’ll see you there.” Brooke said, which shocked him.
But then again, college would be different and there wouldn’t be all of the clear lines between cliques and groups of kids. That’s what Mom said, anyway.
“Hell, yeah. We should make plans to meet up.”
Brooke had been about to say something when the sky let loose with a cloudburst that had the few remaining stragglers after the game running for their cars.
“Come on,” Billy grabbed Brooke’s hand and tugged her along to his car.
Once inside the car, she turned to him, hair damp, black eyeliner smeared. Looking a bit like a drowned squirrel. “I said I have a ride.”
“Yeah, well you can wait for them here.” He handed her a few tissues from out of his glove compartment.
Brooke started wiping away at her face, and a funny thing happened. All the black eye make-up came off and underneath it all was a freaking knock-out. Who knew? Brooke had amazing hazel eyes— eyes that looked right through a person. How had he not noticed that before?
She caught him staring. “What? Did I miss something?” She pulled down the visor and blotted at her face.
“No. You just look much better without all that black shit all over your eyes.”
She gave him a long look. “What do you know Hotshot? We can’t all be cheerleaders.”
“I know you’re beautiful. Without all that shit on your eyes.” There. He’d said it. The worst she could do was jump out of the car into the pouring rain. He pretty much had her now as a captive audience.
Brooke surprised him by laughing. “Tell me what you really think.”
How was a guy supposed to let that opening go unchecked? “All right. I think you should let me kiss you. Right here, right now.”
She stared at him, incredulous. “What’s wrong with you? Is this some kind of a joke? Did you and your buddies come up with this one? Let’s see if we can get Brooke to loosen up?”
She put her hand on the car door, even if the rain was still coming down in sheets.
He put his hand on her arm. “Don’t go. You don’t have to kiss me. Sorry I asked.”
She sat back in her seat and those gorgeous eyes narrowed. “Why did you ask, exactly?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Because I’m a guy. And you’re beautiful.”
“It’s not like I haven’t been kissed before, lots of times. Ted Coffington kissed me last week.”
He scoffed. “Then let me show you what a jock kisses like.” Dammit, why couldn’t he stop?
“Why? Is it different?”
She couldn’t seriously think— shit, Billy, stop it. Stop messing with her. She could be your first friend at Chicago State. You could hang out and study together, maybe even a double date or two. But kissing her might change things. Maybe she’d get all hung up on him like Fallon.
Nah, not Brooke. Right? “I guess I’d have to leave it to you to tell me.”
Silence permeated the inside of his car, and outside the rain softly pelted the roof of his car. Brooke gazed out at the dark smoky night, and then turned to him.
“All right. Let’s give it a try.”
Not in his wildest dreams had he ever expected she’d take him up on it. His palms broke out in a sweat. “Yeah?”
“Why not? But if you tell any one of your friends, if you tell anyone, Billy Turlock, I swear I’ll personally castrate you.”
“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Plenty of time to talk about that part of his anatomy later. He hoped. “You’re going to have to come a little closer.”
“Why don’t you come closer?” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
So far this was not going well. He didn’t have a big car, but why did it feel like there were one hundred feet between him and Brooke?
But something in him, probably his hormones, took over and Billy eased his large body closer to Brooke erasing some of the distance, real and imagined, between them. At the same time, he reached for her neck, pulling her closer. He was gratified when she didn’t resist and leaned in closer to him.
Truth told, he didn’t hold out much hope for that kiss. Figured it would be a big fat zero and they’d both move on. He hadn’t thought the one kiss would not be enough, but that’s exactly what happened.
After the kiss, which did include some tongue action, Brooke gazed at him. “That wasn’t so different.”
It had been for him, but for the sake of saving face he had to agree. “Let me try again.”
“Oh, nice try.”
He’d grinned and pulled her close again. This time the kiss surprised them both. He could tell it had for Brooke, because she moaned a little and one hand reached for his hair. The kiss lasted long enough for Billy to get hard and all the windows to steam up.
When Brooke pulled back she’d said, “Okaaay. Enough of that.”
Right. Enough of that, Billy had to agree. Much more and he’d be begging Brooke to get in the back seat with him. And that would definitely change everything.
Turned out Brooke’s ride didn’t show, so he’d driven her home himself. On the way they’d talked about Brooke’s latest cause, Save the Whales or the elephants or the tigers. Who could remember now? Of course he’d promised to sign the petition, as always.
Also promised that they’d be in touch, so that they could make plans to meet up in Chicago. Brooke had smiled again, and the lust factor skyrocketed into the double digits.
“I was worried I wouldn’t know anyone in Chicago,” she said as she got out of his car. “Even though it is a jock, I’ll take it. Good night, Hotshot.”
“Night, Bungee.”
But there’d been no Chicago State for him. Turned out he’d been spotted by a talent scout. When faced with the option of playing baseball in the minor leagues or going to Chicago to freeze to death, the option was a no-brainer to an eighteen-year-old man-child. Mom had tried to talk him out of it, telling him that an education was priceless. All the stuff one might expect from a parent.
He hadn’t listened. More than anything he wanted to play baseball.
Brooke, naturally, had never been more than a second thought in his addled teenaged brain. Nor had any other girl. He’d been too caught up in his good fortune, the newspaper headlines, the pride of his town. He would play baseball for a living; maybe work hard enough to make it to the major leagues.
He didn’t tell Brooke personally, but she’d obviously heard, just as everyone else in Starlight Hill. She’d never talked to him again.
Every now and again when he’d been in Chicago, it wasn’t so much the University and missed opportunity that called to him but the girl he realized attended it. The girl whose one kiss forever held top billing in the marquee of his sex life, above girls who’d given him far more.
Talk about second chances.
He understood flings, having spent much of the past ten years with them playing front and center in his life.
It was convenient. Easy.
Brooke Miller was no fling. Not for him.
She fit him like his favorite glove. His family loved her as much as he did, clearly. And he was beginning to think that despite her occasional complaints about them, she did love his family right back.
Giancarlo’s background check had returned and the man was practically a saint. So while he didn’t want to think of what unsaintly thoughts had crossed the man’s mind to want to marry Mom so quickly, Billy had to approve. He couldn’t have picked a better man himself. Thanks to Brooke, his mother was the happiest he’d seen her in decades. And she’d stayed away from DateaDeusch.com.
Yet for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure what the girl in his life wanted. Brooke didn’t seem to need him, other than for sex. While he was more than happy to provide an endless supply, he wanted more.
The jock and the anti-jock weren’t even an issue any more. Despite what Brooke believed, he understood baseball had to be a part of his past. No matter how much he missed it. That part of his life was over, and one day it might be easier to go to the major league games and be happy for his friends and former teammates. Right now it only made his gut pinch with envy, a feeling he didn’t much care to indulge.
Brooke hated athletes and what they tended to represent, yet she’d encouraged him to find a way to stay involved with the sport.
He wasn’t sure what to make of that.
But with any luck she felt the same way he did. She’d want to take this to the next level— marriage, babies, the whole stinking bit. It had never in his life held such appeal.
After all, if she didn’t have strong feelings for him, why would she risk a job she obviously wanted and needed by sleeping with him?
* * *
Brooke wasn’t sure how she felt about the media when it came to opening night. They’d been falling all over themselves to get photos of Billy and coverage of the opening of the hometown hero’s vineyard. Articles appeared in the paper as quickly as she could get a press release out. It made sense because it was a nice human interest story: retired pitcher returns to hometown and infuses the local economy. Several travel magazines had approached her regarding future articles, all of them focused on Billy. Free publicity.
Still, she wanted to limit their time and access on the night of the event. What if they caught a photo of her kicking George’s family jewels? Because she would in a heartbeat if he dared to do the slightest thing to sabotage this night.
“Brooke, where do you want these chairs?” Scott asked, carrying a couple of the folding chairs she’d ordered. If all the RSVPs were any indication, tonight they would need extra seating.
“Just take them through the kitchen, and Eric will show you.” Brooke said, waving in the general direction.
She carried a clipboard with her lists, and yes, a damn list of her lists.
Scott smiled as he walked by. “Everything looks great.”
“Thanks.” She’d forgiven Scott for the faux pass of inviting Fallon to Thanksgiving dinner.
Turned out Fallon had played upon his sympathies, saying she was alone and without family. Scott, Brooke had just found out, couldn’t seem to leave his missions on the fields of Afghanistan. He had the same need to fix people and situations that Ivey did. And since Brooke had long come to accept Ivey’s idiosyncrasies, she figured she could do the same for the brother of the man she loved.
Whoa, where had that come from?
“Tell the truth, dear. Is this too much?” Pop, dressed in a three piece suit, touched his red and green Christmas bow tie.
“No, it’s perfect.” Pop was so excited, and she for him. This was also the culmination of his dream.
“I almost went for the one that lit up, and played Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, but I thought you might not like that one. Gotta be classy.”
“Good choice,” Brooke said, grateful she’d dodged a bullet there.
Brooke had to admit this was so far turning out to be the best holiday season in decades, hands down. Even Mom had been unusually cooperative, not once asking how much this whole celebration was costing. Only happy and pleased to have received an invitation.
There would be no hint of tofu anywhere tonight, and Eileen hadn’t said a word about it. Too busy planning her wedding, and Brooke didn’t want to know what else was keeping her occupied. None of her business, and she didn’t need that thought in her head.
And hey, at least they’d be making it legal soon.
Billy had taken to showing how grateful he was for her hard work in multiple ways every night. So much so that she was afraid he’d ruined her for any other man.
She’d come to the realization that Billy Turlock was every bit the man the entire town had adored. Even if she’d never cared much for following the crowd, she couldn’t help it this time. He was the best man she’d ever known.
A good son, loving grandson, protective brother and friend. Maybe she should order a halo for him. Brooke smiled. Nope, no halo for that man. He was pretty sinfully delicious underneath and she was far too well acquainted with all that yumminess.
Like he’d been summoned, yummyness appeared front and center. Brooke did everything but salivate. He always cleaned up so well. Even with the typical long-haired baseball player style going on, he filled a suit like ink filled a pen.
He had on a simple black suit with a red tie, festive but understated. “Hey, babe. Where do you want me?”
In my bed stripped naked and feeding me chocolate covered strawberries, Brooke wanted to say. Instead she pulled her mind out of the gutter and glanced at her list. “You’re meeting with the media first. More pictures, more interviews. I figured if we give them what they want maybe they’ll leave early.”
He walked past her, one finger softly grazing up her arm. He grinned when she shivere
d a little.
She didn’t like broadcasting their relationship at the work place, despite the fact that it was common knowledge throughout the entire town since someone (she suspected Fallon) had outed her to Stephan’s blog.
An hour later, when she was frantically going through the lists of her lists and one of them was missing (horrors!) Eric grabbed her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Easy, girl. Everything is under control. You’ve done a great job. Time to go get changed since people will be arriving in an hour.”
“An hour?” Where had the time gone? “Eric, that’s too soon. I’m not ready. We’re not ready. What if—”
Eric held a finger up to his mouth. “Shut it.”
“But what about the wine? The new private label Pinot we bottled? What do you think?”
Eric nodded. “I think you need a bottle for yourself right now.”
“Funny.”
“Seriously, Brooke. You hired me, and I know you trust me. So stop being a control freak and go get glammed up!” Eric turned her and pushed her in the direction of her cottage. She wound up face to face with Gigi.
“Hello, Brooke.” Her tone was velvety smooth, the sound of a black panther if it could speak.
Brooke startled a little. “Uh, hello Gigi. You’re early.”
“Of course I am. You didn’t think I’d let Billy handle the press junket on his own today?”
“Well, he is a grown man.” Hated to point out the obvious, but sometimes Gigi needed a reminder.
“A grown man who has been known to throw a punch when some stupid reporter said the wrong thing. He needs me, Brooke and you should have thought of asking me to handle all of this for the opening.” She put one hand on her hip and tossed that meticulous every-hair-in-place pageboy hair.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bother you. All we have is the local press. We have one small town paper. The Chronicle sent one photographer. That’s it.” The last two words were said on the edge of the last breath Brooke had left.
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