Starlight Hill: Complete collection 1-8

by Heatherly Bell

  “She wants to get married, and she just met the man!”

  “What can I say? Apparently he works fast.”

  “All I can see is that you like control in every aspect of the business.”

  “I told you that when you hired me, and you still hired me!”

  He couldn’t argue with that. He had. And actually, he still didn’t regret it. “All right. Look, from now on let’s just be honest with each other. Tell me when my family is driving you crazy.”

  She looked him square in the eyes. “Billy, your family is driving me crazy.”

  “Thanks for all the honesty.” He grabbed her wrist, and easily twirled her into his arms.

  She put her hands against his chest and gave him a little shove. “And why were you holding hands with your ex tonight?”

  Yeah, now they were getting somewhere. He’d have to guess Brooke had seen him slide Fallon’s hand off his thigh, and made other assumptions.

  “Ah. She put her hand on my thigh, and I took it off.”

  “Oh. Well, what was she doing there anyway? Am I supposed to believe it was an accident she wound up at Thanksgiving dinner?”

  Thanks to Scott and Fallon, Billy found himself on the defensive, when he’d hoped for a passionate apology tonight. “Believe me, I’ll have words with my brother. But I have to believe, knowing Scott, she asked if she could come. Sometimes that’s all it takes with him. He’s got a hero complex.”

  “She’s interested in you, I hope you know.” Brooke moved to the lighted balcony, where she stared into the dark night. There was a new moon but even so out here in the country the darkness was encapsulating. Complete. It had to be difficult for someone who feared the dark.

  “But I’m not interested in her.” He came up behind her, one of his favorite places to be. He slipped his arms around Brooke, pulling her into his chest.

  She didn’t resist, but leaned back into him. She was so small in his arms, it felt like he could pick her up and put her in his pocket.

  “Billy, what are we doing?” She almost whispered.

  If his head hadn’t been bent down next to hers, he might not have heard her. He turned her around his arms.

  “Whatever you want. Right here. Right now.” His hand drifted up underneath her black dress and palmed her glorious ass.

  Underneath his palm, Brooke shivered. Hopefully not just from the cold that had descended on the autumn night. “Here? Now? It’s cold.”

  “I’ll keep you warm. We’re alone, no one around for miles, and the balcony is your favorite place. Admit it.” He drew her tiny face to his lips and kissed her hard and deep. When they came up for air, her eyes had softened.

  “But if we do this, I’ll never think of the balcony the same way.” Brooke smiled against his mouth.

  “I’m good with that.”

  She pushed away from him and scooted herself into a sitting position on top of the stone ledge of the balcony. One finger beckoned him to her side.

  He didn’t know how Brooke managed to pull at two different organs at once, but she did. She’d been the only one who ever had. He felt the sharp thrust of pure lust as he got between her legs, and she pulled at his belt.

  He took a condom from his pocket, and she slid it on with a smile. “Always ready.”

  When it came to Brooke, he’d be crazy not to be. He pushed up her dress to her waist and slid off his pants. Then he was inside of her, wet and slick, driving into her. When she cried out his name and he followed, nearly screaming too, he realized he’d been so distracted his thrusts had pushed her dangerously close to the ledge. He pulled her back.

  “I got carried away,” he said with a groan. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. That was fun.” She moaned softly, and for a second he wondered if had fallen in love with the female version of Evel Knievel.

  The thought stopped him short. Holy shit. Since when was he in love with Brooke?

  “What’s wrong? You looked scared. I wasn’t going to fall. And anyway, it’s a short six foot drop. We’d only get a little bit banged up. Not like we would die.”

  He pulled up his pants, smoothed down her dress, picked her up in his arms, and carried her inside. “I’m not going to lose you over the balcony.”

  Later in bed, as Brooke lay on top of him, all her glorious wild hair splayed over his chest, she pushed up on her chin. “It goes both ways, you know.”

  “What does?”

  “You’re not being honest with me, and you know it.”

  He tugged on a strand of her hair. “I already told you, she put her hand on my thigh. I took it off.”

  “Not what I mean,” she said, caressing the scar on his shoulder. “Does it hurt?”

  “No.” Sometimes, when he was with Brooke, he forgot he had a shoulder much less a bad one.

  “Because when I saw you helping the guys play, I wondered if you should be doing that.”

  “The reason I had to quit is I can’t throw the way I need to in major league baseball. Not on a consistent basis.”

  “So you could maybe coach?”

  “Yeah. Actually, Coach is retiring and he’d like me to take his place.”

  “Really? Why don’t you do it?”

  He wouldn’t expect Brooke to understand, but coaching a high school baseball team would be a step down. According to Gigi, and pretty much everyone. “Is this you, trying to get rid of me so you have the vineyard all to yourself?”

  “No, this is me trying to get you to be honest with yourself. Maybe this vineyard isn’t what you want. It’s what Pop wanted, and you’re doing it for him.”

  “So what’s wrong with that?”

  “Why not do what makes you happy?”

  “I am happy. Especially when you stop talking and use your mouth for something else.”

  She laughed. “I’m serious.”

  He grinned. “So am I.”

  She grabbed his face and framed it between her hands. “Billy. All I’m saying is it doesn’t have to be all or nothing. You could coach. Or maybe you should take the sports casting job, if it’s what you want.”

  She wasn’t fooling him. The sadness in her eyes was gratifying. “I’m not taking the job.”

  “If you want it, you should. I want you to be happy.”

  “What I want is to stay right here. With you.” His hand slid down her silky smooth back and down to her perfectly shaped ass. A guy could get addicted to Brooke.

  “Even in this boring little town?” She laid her head down on his chest, and he couldn’t see her eyes.

  “Who called my hometown boring?”

  “Gigi said you’d never be happy here.”

  Every muscle in his body tensed. He was so damned tired of Gigi trying to protect him. Those careless words had obviously hurt Brooke.

  He grabbed a handful of her hair in his hand. “She had no right to say that to you.”

  She lifted her head, her hair disheveled the way he loved it, a wild mane around her face. Her eyes were soft and liquid. “I kicked her out of my office.”

  “Good.”

  “But later I thought, maybe she’s right. Maybe you can’t be happy here. It’s not fair that you spent most of your life working towards a goal, and then you have to leave it all behind.”

  “You know, we find ourselves in a precarious position right now. You, hater of jocks, encouraging the man you’re sleeping with not to give up his sport. Ironic, isn’t it?”

  “Believe me the irony is not lost on me. But for once, I want to look in those green eyes and see a man who looks as satisfied with his life as by all accounts he should be.”

  He rolled on top of her. “I’m satisfied with my life. Do you want me to show you how much?”

  Then he showed her without words. No more talking, but only touching and feeling. Learning and memorizing the landscape of her body.

  Forgetting everything and everyone because she made it so easy.

  Five days from their Grand Opening on December 5th, and Br
ooke’s lists were making her crazy. She had at least ten of them. Pretty soon she’d need a list of her lists.

  A ten foot tree sat in the middle of the open floor, and some of her temporary staff were decorating it. Garland and white fairy lights were hung and wreaths every few feet on every available wall or door space.

  Christmas had come to Mirassu.

  “Where’s the list with all the outdoor decorating that needs to be done?” She shuffled the papers that were laid out all over the wine bar. Rather than working in the office, she liked being right in the middle of all the action. Where she could watch everyone, and make sure they were doing what they should be.

  Everything. Had. To. Be. Perfect.

  “Right here.” Eric found a yellow lined piece of paper and handed it to Brooke. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Get me some Valium?” Brooke asked. “No? Fine. Then why don’t you go double check our inventory? I want to make sure we have enough of the Pinot.”

  “Right.” Eric took off in the direction of the wine cellar.

  The worst thing that could happen would be to run out of their new line. She’d test tasted the latest crush, and it was quite possibly some of the best Pinot she’d had in a long time. Velvety smooth with a hint of apple. It could wind up being the new Mirassu’s signature label, if all went well. It might even win the next private label contest. That would kill George.

  Judging by the response from the invitations, half the town would be here on opening night. Including George and Chelsea. Too bad. Brooke hadn’t seen how she could neglect to invite them, but hoped that they’d have the decency to decline. No such luck.

  So she’d have to mingle with her ex and his fiancée for the first time since the night they’d announced their engagement. The same night she’d insulted George and quit on the spot. Not exactly her proudest moment. She didn’t want Billy to know about that night, and there was no telling what George or Chelsea would let slip. Her plan was to keep Billy and George apart as much as humanly possible all evening.

  Billy. She found that she wanted to be the kind of woman he thought she was. The kind of woman he seemed to see when he looked in her eyes, studying her, like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. This morning she’d woke to find him staring at her. Thankfully not in a creepy stalker way.

  Still, she’d hit his arm. “What? Okay, goofball. Stop staring. Have you never seen a woman sleep?”

  “Can I help it if I enjoy it when you’re quiet? Which is only when you’re sleeping.”

  “Brat.”

  At which point she’d climbed on top of him and showed him how loud she could get. He’d wound up covering her mouth that time. Afterwards, she’d drifted to sleep again, only to wake up and find him gone. He left her a note saying he had a meeting with Coach.

  She didn’t understand why he wouldn’t come out and admit how much he missed baseball. It had to be a guy thing. And the reluctance to talk about feelings, definitely something she understood. But there had to be a way he could keep his status as a former baseball superstar and also coach high school baseball. Yeah, in the wide world of sports it might be considered a step down but so what?

  Brooke’s cell phone rang and she checked the caller ID. No time to talk to anyone that wasn’t of utmost importance. But it was Ivey calling again, for the third time in as many days.

  “Hey,” Brooke said as she picked up the phone.

  “You picked up! I was getting ready to leave another voice mail. You do remember me, don’t you? Ivey Garner? Your bff?”

  “I’m a bad friend. I’m sorry. It’s crazy, getting ready for opening next week. So many things to do.”

  “So delegate.”

  “I am, but—”

  “Wait. Don’t tell me. You want everything to be perfect.”

  “Well, okay. Sue me. It does have to be perfect.” Billy depended on her, and she wouldn’t let him down. Not when he made her feel so— so— what was the word?

  “Some little thing is bound to go wrong. Go with the flow, enjoy it. Everyone is talking about this. It’s going to be great, no matter what.”

  “George and Chelsea are coming.”

  “No.”

  “I had to invite them. But I didn’t expect them to come.”

  “That’s ballsy of him. Do you think he’ll be a problem?”

  “Nah, I got it. If he tries anything, I’ll kick him where it hurts.” He wouldn’t ruin this day for Billy, Pop, and Eileen. Even Scott and Wallace were excited.

  “How are things going with Lover Boy?”

  Brooke felt herself smile. “Good.” So good. She didn’t have words for how good. Fantastic, maybe.

  “Uh-huh. Care to elaborate?”

  How did a girl say it exactly? Without sounding like an idiot? He makes me feel — wanted. Safe. “I’m not sure how to explain it. I— he— he’s so—”

  “Oh for love of Pete, Brooke, you’re in love!”

  “No. I’m not.” Why did her face suddenly feel like someone had lit a match next to it?

  “You fooled around and fell in love,” Ivey said and started singing the song.

  “Stop. Don’t be stupid. How can I be in love? It can’t happen. It just can’t.” First Eileen, now Brooke. All around, women dropping like flies. Well, she couldn’t do it. She wasn’t naïve like sweet Eileen. No, Brooke had her mom to remind her that the Miller women were unlucky enough. And if Mom wasn’t enough, Brooke had a string of failed relationships to drive the point home.

  “It’s about time you fell in love. I was beginning to think you might have a missing gene.”

  “I don’t have a missing gene. Can I help it if I got an early education in what not to do? My parents taught me well.”

  “Good, then you’ll just avoid those mistakes.”

  “Falling in love would be the mistake.” She only wanted to enjoy this time, as long as it lasted. It might go down as the single most erotic time of her life.

  “You don’t believe that,” Ivey said. “Look at me and Jeff.”

  “Sure, when you want to talk about young first love. That’s powerful.”

  “Stop with the first love thing. So what if you didn’t meet someone in high school? Not too many people did. What if this is your first love?”

  “C’mon, Ivey.”

  First love at her age? Didn’t that usually happen when you were still so young you might as well believe in the Easter bunny than in the fact that two people were forever intended for each other? And yet, if she were being honest she had to admit that she’d always envied Ivey and Jeff— it was all so romantic. They’d been each other’s firsts in every way. Five years apart, and they still loved each other because they’d never stopped. Le sigh.

  Well, apparently she still believed in fairy tales. Just not for her. They were for other girls. Girls who cried, girls who liked pink, unicorns and rainbows. Girls like Ivey and Genevieve.

  Not Brooke.

  She didn’t want to put a label on what she and Billy had. “So what, exactly, makes you think I’m in love?”

  “Oh I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact that you haven’t talked about— it. At all.”

  “It?” Really, sometimes Ivey could be so vague.

  “Sex, Brooke. You haven’t talked about the sex. And you always liked to talk about it. Almost like a man, for crying out loud.”

  She hadn’t talked about the best sex she’d ever had in her life? Seriously? Maybe it was because it felt too private, somehow. Which was strange because she told Ivey, her best friend since high school, pretty much everything. Why hadn’t she told her about the mind blowing, exciting, and toe curling sex with Billy?

  “I haven’t?” Brooke squeaked.

  Brooke was still trying to figure that out when Ivey spoke. “I think it’s because this time maybe it’s too special. You’re not having sex, you’re making love. It’s different. Maybe it’s because you fooled around and fell in love.” Ivey started singing again. At least she had a
good voice.

  “Stop it!” Brooke laughed into the phone.

  “So what is going on between you two?” Ivey pressed. “Can I have a relationship status update?”

  “It’s complicated.” Brooke answered. And she wasn’t kidding or being cute or trite. Complicated was how she’d describe Billy in a nutshell.

  “He’s not being honest with me. Something is going on, I can tell. He’s not done with baseball, no matter what he says.”

  “What if he isn’t?” Ivey asked.

  “I’m not exactly jock girlfriend material.” Fallon, his ex-girlfriend and ex-head cheerleader, now she was a jock girlfriend. Definitely not Brooke.

  15

  Billy gazed over the balcony gazing at the land he’d once assumed would be nothing but trouble, and only a promise he’d made to the grandfather he adored. The vineyard looked beautiful this morning, bathed in the glow of the soft moonlight on the eve before their grand opening. His place.

  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.”