THE STARLIGHT HILL COMPLETE COLLECTION: 1-8

by Bell, Heatherly

  Not good.

  Brooke hurled her body out the door, feeling her breaths come out in short little desperate spurts. “What’s going on?”

  Outside, Wallace and Scott flanked Billy, who could be heard saying, “I was about to teach this gentleman some manners.”

  “Why can’t we all sit down and talk about this like civilized citizens of the world?” Gigi said.

  “We could,” Billy said sounding gritty and rough, “But some people don’t know how to be civilized.”

  Brooke shoved her way to the front of the melee. “What’s going on here?”

  “George was leaving. Say goodnight.” Billy let George go with a slight shove.

  George smoothed over his Italian suit, probably one that cost a year of her salary. He glared in Brooke’s direction.

  “You picked the wrong man, Brooke. If you wanted a jock you should have said so.” He turned to Billy. “You might pitch a ball at ninety miles an hour but let’s see you build up a winery from the ground up. Oh wait, guess you didn’t need to. You’re a millionaire. You take my best people. But it won’t be enough.”

  “He didn’t take me, I quit. Remember? You should leave now,” Brooke said through a shaky breath.

  Billy moved forward but he was stopped on either side by Wallace and Scott. “Listen to her. A ball isn’t the only thing I can hit out of the park.”

  George finally walked away, Chelsea running behind him.

  “What was that all about?” Gigi demanded. “I want an explanation.”

  Brooke was so afraid she knew exactly what it was all about. Billy hadn’t even looked at her for the past few minutes. He knew.

  George had told Billy about the two of them, and who knew what else he’d said. Not that it would matter to Billy, because he had to know how she felt. It was different between them, special. She kept trying to meet his eyes.

  “Does it matter?” Wallace interrupted. “If I know my brother, he didn’t do it without a damn good reason.”

  “I sure hope so, because this calls for some damage control. We need to spin this and get ahead of it. I’ll make some calls.” Gigi turned and walked back inside, glaring at Brooke.

  Brooke stared at Billy, who finally met her eyes. The eyes that told her so much were shut down now. She couldn’t hazard a guess as to what he was thinking or feeling. But her first guess? Not good.

  Brooke’s heart started to shiver in her rib cage. The curse of The Holidays appeared alive and well. Her stomach took the Christmas dive it remembered so well.

  Gigi turned at the door. “Are you two coming? Let me rephrase that. Brooke and Billy, you two are coming with me.”

  A few minutes later, they were both seated on the couch in Billy’s living room. It felt like there were one hundred feet were between her and Billy and not a few inches.

  “Are you okay?” It was the only thing she dared ask.

  “Yeah.”

  Funny, because he did not look okay. He looked the furthest from okay that she’d ever seen. Happy-go-lucky Billy, who loved everyone and had a ready smile at a moment’s notice. She’d ruined that. “Billy, I—”

  “Not now,” Billy said, then leaned back and took a deep breath, shoving a hand through that long hair.

  She’d ruined everything again, her special talent during The Holidays. Disaster and ruination followed her at this time of the year. And even with her failed track record with men, she was about to lose the best one. Because she didn’t deserve him.

  Gigi hung up the phone. “Disaster averted. At least no press was there when you lost your head. How many times have I told you to count to ten?”

  “I counted to a hundred,” Billy said with a scowl. “He asked for it, believe me.”

  “I believe you. That brings me to the two of you. Hate to say I told you so.”

  “Then don’t,” Billy said. “This continues to be none of your business.”

  “But—” Gigi began.

  Billy got up. “Sorry I lost my temper. Thanks for your help. Good-night.”

  With a hand on Gigi’s back he led her to the front door. “We have so much to talk about. The offer by Fox Sports—”

  “Brooke and I have to talk and we need some privacy.”

  For once, Brooke wished Gigi would argue more and stay a little longer. But she didn’t protest as she threw a pointed look at Brooke (because this was of course her fault). “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Billy shut the door and didn’t move for a minute, his back still facing the door. Then he turned to Brooke. “I want to know how you wound up with a man like George.”

  Stupidity? Lack of options? Loneliness? She didn’t know which one to say first. “Tell me what he said to you.”

  “No,” he moved towards her. “You tell me what’s true.”

  “I did have a relationship with him for a while, it’s true. Because I was stupid and lonely. He was there.”

  “So— convenient?”

  “Yeah, I guess. And did I mention stupid?”

  “Is that what this is? I’m convenient?”

  “What? No Billy, you can’t honestly believe that. Nothing about you is convenient.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Well, you know what I mean. You’re a jock. What do we really have in common?” Other than the fact that for reasons she couldn’t quite understand everything in her world righted itself when she was in Billy’s arms, the facts were that they were not exactly cut from the same cloth. They didn’t have a whole lot in common other than the fact that they both loved this town, this vineyard. His family. Yes, she loved all those crazy people.

  Billy sighed, reached for a hair tie and put his hair in a ponytail. She’d also never dated a man with long hair before, but Billy had such a rock star look when he pulled his hair in a ponytail that she nearly came every day he did it.

  “Do you know the last time I was in a fight over a girl?”

  They’d fought over her? Why did she feel like such an idiot? Why did she feel humiliation clogging her throat? “I don’t know. High school?”

  He met her eyes. “Try never.”

  Never. As she suspected, she brought out the worst in him. Brooke Miller, angst instigator.

  “Sorry,” she said with an exasperated sigh. “Sounded like Gigi was kind of used to this.”

  “I’ve lost my temper a handful of times with the press. Never over a girl.”

  She stood up. “I’m sorry. You didn’t want to believe me, but I must be cursed. It’s The Holidays. I tried to warn you, but did you listen?”

  He laughed and her heart broke open a little bit. “How do you feel about me, Brooke?”

  Was this a trick question? She didn’t quite know how to answer. If she told him the truth it could be a trap. It could be he sought some reassurance that she wasn’t making her way through all the vineyard owners in town. Hello, humiliation. Why oh why had she ever taken up with George?

  “How do I feel about you?”

  “You heard me. Is that a tough question?”

  Why would he ask her this right now? “What did George tell you?”

  “Is that going to help you answer my question?”

  “No. But I want to know.”

  “And I asked first.”

  “Fine.” She took a shaky breath and smoothed the skirt of her dress. “I lo—” the word love stuck in her throat. Love meant misery and disaster. Broken promises and hearts. She didn’t want to love him. “C’mon, you know how I feel.”

  “I need to hear it.” He grinned and her heart broke open a little bit more. That’s what Billy managed to do her. She didn’t like it one bit. It was so out of control, and control was the only thing she had left.

  To her horror, her eyes started leaking. Not possible, because Brooke Miller didn’t do tears. But even so they were flowing out of her eyes. Salty, big, wet and floppy tears.

  She caught one with her mouth, and wiped another one away with her hand. “I— I really—”

/>   “You can’t say it, can you?”

  Of course not, because saying it out loud would make it true. Then she’d be sunk like the Titanic because loving him was the biggest risk she’d ever take. And she’d hurt a lot worse than a few stitches, broken bones or concussions. You couldn’t heal a broken heart. She’d seen that first hand.

  Then he was next to her, folding her into his arms. “I didn’t think you could cry, Bungee.”

  “I can’t.” But dang if she wasn’t doing a bang-up imitation of it. She buried her face in his warm neck – he smelled so much like a man. Her man.

  Her mascara had to be smearing, and she probably looked like a raccoon, but Billy lifted her chin, like he might actually appreciate the raccoon look. “Let me tell you how I feel about you, then.”

  “Um, okay.” She hiccupped. How did women manage this crying thing?

  “I don’t care about your past. We both have less than illustrious histories. All I care about is you. I know I let you down once before—”

  “That was so long ago. No big deal.”

  He tugged on a strand of her hair. “It is a big deal. I should have told you I wasn’t going instead of having you hear it from everyone else.”

  “But you didn’t owe me anything.”

  “Maybe not, but you were a friend. I could have done better. I’m trying to do that now. I never forgot that kiss I talked you into—”

  “Oh please, you didn’t talk me into anything. I wanted it too.”

  He grinned. “We were too immature. Not too young to realize we had a connection, but too young to understand it was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing.”

  She was in so much trouble because she realized he was right. No one else had ever come close to her heart which made it easy for so long to keep things light. No commitments, and no heartbreaks. She’d met the right man when she was seventeen years old but he hadn’t become a part of her life again until ten years later. A long time to wait, and she’d never been good at waiting.

  “Being with you is the only time I feel like I can breathe. I used to live and breathe baseball 24/7, and you’re right – I miss it. But when I’m with you none of that matters because you fill me up. I love you, Brooke. I want it all with you – marriage, babies. I wouldn’t mind getting you knocked up right now.” He kissed her in that bone melting way of his, reaching right into her heart.

  She couldn’t help but arch her body into his kiss, while her thoughts ran wild. Not this. I can’t do this forever love thing. It doesn’t work. He’s going to hate me before long. We’re too different. Besides, I’m not the marrying kind. Not the girl you take home to Mom.

  After a few moments, she put her hands up against his solid chest. She’d have to lie like a rug, but in the end it would be for the best. “Here’s the thing. I don’t love you. I wanted a good time, and that’s what we have. I don’t want anything else. Why do we have to ruin it by talking about a fantasy?”

  He blinked his surprise. “A fantasy?”

  “Love and marriage. You and I both know it doesn’t last. Look at your parents. When’s the last time you saw your Dad? Probably around the last time I saw mine. It’s been years. It’s crazy to get married. Half of all marriages end in divorce. Do you want to be part of that statistic?”

  “That wouldn’t be us.”

  “Don’t you think that’s what they all thought? Do you want to do that to a child? Force them to split their time between two parents who can’t stand each other anymore? Do you?”

  “Brooke—”

  “Can’t we just stay like we are? I like what we have, just the way it is.”

  “That won’t be enough for me.” That green eyed gaze assessed her. She didn’t see hurt in those eyes, but only a rock-steady assurance. He was so certain that she loved him back.

  That pissed her off. Stuck up jock. “It will have to be.”

  He didn’t say another word, but walked towards his front door and opened it. “Good night, Brooke.”

  “Good night?” But he couldn’t be kicking her out. Didn’t all guys want a no-strings relationship? Why did she have to fall for the one guy who didn’t?

  “It’s been a long day, and we both need our rest.”

  Yes, but usually they rested together. Her head in the crook of his neck, his left hand on the small of her back. She rubbed up against him. “I’m never that tired. Let’s go to bed and forget about all this.”

  “I can’t.” He made no move in response to her, but just stood there holding the door open.

  Well, she wasn’t going to beg. Not yet, anyway. “You can’t or you won’t?”

  “All right, I won’t.” He stared at her, not at all apologetic. So he was going to punish her. Punish her for being the level headed one, the one who would save him from the alimony and child support due to her in a few years. This is the thanks she got.

  “Fine.” She brushed by him on the way out, hoping he’d reconsider.

  He didn’t. The door shut behind her and she stared at it for a moment. This role reversal couldn’t be happening. The fabric of the universe had been torn in half somehow.

  She couldn’t stop crying, either, as she fumbled for the door to her little cottage. Inside, the cottage wasn’t all that dreamy anymore. Not like Billy’s place which for the life of her had started to feel like home. That had been her first mistake. Spending too much time over there, allowing him to suck her in like a Hoover vacuum. What a fool she’d been. She couldn’t tell him the truth because she didn’t want it to be the truth.

  She didn’t want to love him. Not with this ache that wouldn’t go away.

  A long time ago, she’d felt that ache for him, but eventually it had gone away. Out of sight, out of mind. Every once in a while she thought back to the night when they’d kissed, when in that one moment she’d embraced a kind of stupid-girl hope. Maybe she and Billy would date in Chicago, out of the confines of small town life and the roles they’d each been assigned. In Chicago she could be more than Brooke the button-pusher. She could be Brooke, Billy Turlock’s friend. Maybe even someday something more than that. She’d made the grave mistake of planning, of hoping for something better. For somebody like him. If not him, then at least somebody like him.

  But hope had returned a big fat zero. Billy Turlock would not go to Chicago. He would go to the minor leagues. She’d been nuts to think for a moment he cared enough to tell her personally. No, she’d heard about it like everyone else had. It was all anyone talked about for weeks. Hometown hero heads out for the big time. Next stop, the majors.

  Now he said he loved her and she was supposed to believe that. Now he wanted her to trust him. Believe that he wouldn’t let her down again and pull out the rug out from under her when she least expected it. Sure it was different. They were grown-ups now. It would hurt a whole lot more.

  Brooke uncorked a bottle of Merlot. Another two fisted night of drinking lay ahead, because tonight The Holidays had delivered a knock-out.

  * * *

  Billy Turlock had experienced a lot of firsts in his life. The first time he’d pitched a no hitter: Oakland Coliseum 2004. The first time he’d bought a house: his mother’s house, Starlight Hill, 2005. The first time the police were called for a baseball groupie that had holed up in his hotel room, insisting she would kill herself if he didn’t marry her: 2008 (thankfully also the last time).

  This newest first had come courtesy of the love of his life. The first time he’d refused sex with the woman he loved: Brooke Miller, 2014.

  Yeah. He should drink to that, in fact.

  He rummaged through the cabinets in the kitchen searching for his bottle of single Malt Scotch. He opened it, knowing full well it would upset Brooke and taking actual enjoyment out of that fact. Damn. The Scotch went down like it should: hot, burning a hole in his esophagus. Reminding him he had hair on his chest, and making him feel like he’d spontaneously sprouted a few more.

  Brooke loved him. He knew that fact like he knew the order
of the bases on the diamond. She was apparently so damaged that it was impossible to admit. Which slayed him as much as it pissed him off. Men like George Serrano might have had something to do with that. But before he pointed the finger, he had to remember that he’d let her down too. And forgiveness was apparently in short supply with his girl. Ten years ought to be long enough to let go of a grudge, but even if she said it didn’t matter Billy wasn’t buying it.

  There was an insistent knock on his door and he opened it to find both brothers. “Hey.”

  “Are you alone?” Wallace, a couple of inches taller than Billy, looked over his head.

  “Yep,” Billy answered and waved Wallace and Scott inside. “Scotch?”

  “You don’t have to ask me twice,” Wallace answered.

  Billy poured his big brother a glass and handed it to him. They clinked and Wallace shot it down, grimacing. “Ah. Now I feel like a man. All that wine is too girly for me. And all the pastries from Genevieve’s. Shit. It was so sweet in there I thought I was at a Nicholas Sparks movie.”

  “What? You didn’t have the bacon puffs?” Billy asked.

  “I did. Thought I’d died and gone to heaven,” Scott said. “You gotta beer?”

  “Here you go little brother.” Billy reached inside the fridge and behind all the bottles of Mirassu white wine Brooke kept in there. Sissy stuff.

  He handed Scott the bottle, then carried the Scotch with him to the couch, and his brothers followed.

  “So— what was that all about tonight?” Wallace sat down and stretched his long legs out. He fixed Billy with his big brother stare. The one that meant he better talk now, because time was in limited supply and Wallace wasn’t in the mood for stalling.

  “George insulted Brooke.” Billy scowled into his flask.

  “Pay up, Wallace,” Scott said.

  “Man.” Wallace reached for his wallet in the back of his pants pockets and drew it out. He laid out two twenty dollar bills next to him. “I bet Scott this couldn’t be about a girl. Guess there’s a first time for everything.”