She threw a grateful smile in the direction of Mom, Ivey and Eileen. Then she turned back to Billy. “Yes!”
“No, wait a minute.” He fished in his pants pocket.
“Too late. You can’t take it back now,” Brooke said.
He flashed the full throttle grin and dropped to one knee. “I’ve been a lucky man most of my life, but I think the luckiest day of my life was when I bought the Mirassu vineyard. Not because I got a deal on a great piece of land but because it led me to my real treasure. I don’t much care for wine, or money, or even baseball if I can’t have you there with me. Would you marry me?”
Brooke stared at Billy’s now open palm. In it was a beautiful solitaire diamond ring. “Yes, yes! I’ll marry you!”
Billy slipped the ring on her finger and thank goodness her left arm wasn’t in a cast. It slid right on like it had been sized for her. “I love you, Brooke.”
“I love you,” she whispered, relieved she could finally say it and no longer be afraid.
In the next few minutes the room became filled with the rest of the Turlocks— Pop, Wallace, Scott. Even Giancarlo appeared, joining Eileen’s side.
Pop uncorked a bottle of champagne. “Hot diggity dog! Let’s celebrate!”
The holidays would never be the same again.
Billy threaded his fingers through her left hand, and Brooke turned to see all the smiling faces in the room. Pop grinned ear to ear, Wallace for once looked interested, and Scott was pounding Billy’s back. Ivey was sniffling and smiling, Mom was pulling a tissue out of the nearby box, and Eileen was openly weeping in Giancarlo’s arms.
There were a whole lot of people in the room for one proposal. But she wouldn’t have it any other way. She squeezed Billy’s hand.
This was a family affair.
About the Author
Heatherly Bell is the contemporary romance author of sixteen published novels and novellas. She lives in Northern California with her family and loves to hear from readers.
Contact her at [email protected].
Until There Was You
A Starlight Hill Novel
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Published by Heatherly Bell Books
Copyright © 2015 by Maria Buscher
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Edited by Lesley McDaniel
Cover by The Killion Group
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Created with Vellum
1
Wallace Turlock had never wanted to kill one of his clients before today. Maim them, sure. Hurt them? Okay, after several change orders, it happened to the saintliest of contractors.
But he wasn’t going to be able to kill Genevieve Hannigan. A shame.
“You can’t keep changing your mind.” Surprised he got the words out between his clenched teeth and jaw, he kept going. “First you wanted the mahogany wood floors, then the blonde wood, and now the cherry. Would you make up your mind? Do you even know what you want?”
Genevieve stared back at him with wide blue eyes which had felled greater men than he. Didn’t do a thing to him, fortunately, thanks to years of aversion training.
“I know exactly what I want. The cherry wood floors. Maybe if you’d shown those to me to begin with, we wouldn’t be behind schedule.” From behind the counter of the little bakery she’d chosen to name Sweet Southern Buns, Genevieve looked at him with a straight face.
Please. She couldn’t be serious. “All the choices were available to you, Gen. You’re the one who doesn’t know what she wants.”
She sighed, took a box out from under the counter and started filling it with sugar-raised donuts. “Are we going to have this argument again? Joe said you’d do a good job. You’re supposed to be the best contractor in the area.”
Joe Hannigan, Gen’s big brother. Wallace’s best bud and the only reason he’d agreed to take on such a small renovation project. His company, Pacific Granite Construction, should have been able to take care of a job like this in a few days. They would be done by now, but Genevieve had changed her mind half a dozen times and he’d finally let his crew loose and decided to finish the job himself. Or die trying.
He usually took the entire month of January off, having finally worked his company into a position where he could afford to do so. Any other January, he’d have already retreated to the cabin he’d single handedly built in Miwuk Village. The first snowfall had hit the Sierras last week, and he could picture his fireplace if he closed his eyes. The quiet. The solitude. The peace.
The banging.
“Genevieve, are you going to open or what?” A male customer shouted from outside.
Wallace turned to see a line of customers outside the shop’s door. Another thing. He could have used the fact the delays were affecting her business. Instead, all these fools kept coming. The only difference being that no one lingered, but took their pastries to go.
“Hold your horses, sugar.” Genevieve came around from behind the counter and opened the front door to Ophelia, President of the Chamber of Commerce and self-appointed busybody.
Everyone else filed in after the Queen.
“Hey, Wallace.”
“How’s your brother and Brooke? She knocked up yet?”
“Did he seriously turn down a chance to broadcast for Fox Sports?”
Wallace grunted and chatted with a few of the locals. A casualty of life in the small Napa valley town of Starlight Hill, in addition to being big brother to the town’s local millionaire and retired baseball superstar Billy Turlock.
As the last customer left, Wallace crumpled up the oldest change order in his hands and stood up. “Tell you what. I’m going to put one of my best guys on this.” Jerry was the patron saint of contractors. And Gen needed one.
“No! You said you’d do this. I don’t trust anyone else.” Gen did that thing she and every other woman put on this earth did to torment him— her lips parted slightly.
“I said I would, but you’ve changed your mind one too many times. You need a saint not a contractor, and I’ve got just the man. Don’t worry, you’ll get your cherry wood floors or mahogany or whatever you wind up choosing.”
“But—” Genevieve said just before he shut the door to her shop and stepped outside.
He’d call Jerry, a sixty-year-old man on his crew who took extra work here and there to supplement his retirement. Enough was enough, and there was only so much a grown man could take. Joe would understand. Wallace would pack up tonight, and be on his way to the cabin first thing in the morning. He could almost smell the pine trees, the crisp clean air, and see the smoke curling out of chimneys. He could hear the whistling sound of the wind through the trees.
His phone buzzed. Would he ever get a moment’s peace? Caller ID showed Joe’s number. Had Gen tattled on him already? “Yeah.”
“Hey, bud.” Joe said.
“Look, here’s the thing—” Wallace began but Joe cut him off.
“I need a favor. I got another one of those jobs flying a private plane for a celebrity. I forget his name, some rap singer. Anyway, I need the money so I took it. I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“Great. So what’s the problem?”
“I heard Gen’s ex-husband is on his way to Starlight Hill. And you and I both know that after their divorce, there’s only one thing he could want.”
Wallace let out a breath. Right. Her ex probably wanted to hurt Genevieve. What else? And Wallace should probably not let that happen.
“The yokel might want to get back together with her. I’ve no idea dude, but I want him to stay the hell away from my sister. You saw how she cried after that disaster. And my Mom will have a fit if they get bac
k together.”
Wallace saw his trip to the mountains fading. He couldn’t hear the wind whistling through the trees any more. All he could hear was the theme from Jaws.
He shut his eyes. “And you want me to look out for her while you’re gone?”
“Exactly. I don’t trust any other guy in town. You know men. They see a damsel in distress and they come arunnin.”
Wallace tried not to snort directly into the phone. Damsel in distress his ass. “I was going to the cabin tomorrow morning—”
“You’re such a bud. You’d put that off for me, man. Thanks. I owe you.”
These Hannigans heard what they wanted to hear. “Uh-huh. Yeah.”
“One more thing. Don’t get all shocked when you see her ex. I know it’s kind of weird, but staring won’t help anything.”
“Staring? Why would I stare?” Granted, he’d never met Allen Shebowski because Genevieve had met him on a cruise last summer. Some kind of whirlwind romance and Gen had moved to Austin for about two minutes.
“Okay, gotta go. See you in a couple of weeks!” Joe hung up.
“Wait— a couple of weeks?” Wallace stared at his phone. Dammit. He reached his pick-up truck, and kicked the tire. It didn’t help much with his frustration level.
“Wallace, I’m so, so sorry.” From behind him, the teeny tiny voice of his tormentor spoke. Deceptively sweet and charming.
“You better be.” He turned and locked eyes with Genevieve.
She was wringing her hands together, and for one minute reminded him of the teenager he’d first met at Joe’s house. The one that used to follow him around like a lost puppy dog. She’d had a raging crush on him back then, of course he knew. But thank goodness that was all in the past. She pretty much hated him now, sort of like a sister might ‘hate’ her big brother.
Although he was pretty sure that a brother wouldn’t notice the perfect shape of Gen’s mouth. The way she bit her lower lip when she was about to beg. Yeah, he liked this Genevieve. And all right, maybe he would go to hell for this one but he let her beg even though Joe had already shanghaied him into staying.
“I won’t change my mind again. I pinky-promise.” She held out her slim pinky.
Fine. He wrapped his own around it. “Let’s give this one more shot.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean you’ll stay? You won’t send someone else?”
He tried not to notice her doe-eyed look. “I’ll do it. I said I would.”
In the next second he had his arms full of Genevieve as she jumped up and grabbed him in a hug. “Thank you! Oh, you won’t regret it. I promise you! I’m going to be the best customer you ever had.”
He resisted pushing her away when she lingered in his arms. Genevieve was gifted with an ability to make a guy feel like a hero by simply opening the door for her. He was not as immune to her charms as he wanted to be. He was flesh and blood, a woman-loving man to the nth degree.
But he wasn’t supposed to want to bang Genevieve.
At five o’clock, Genevieve locked up her bakery and made the short drive home to Sweet U Lane.
Whew. That was a close one.
She might have pushed her luck a little too far with Wallace today when she’d changed back to the cherry wood floors. He’d actually forgotten about the fact that her first choice had been cherry. But then she’d changed twice before winding up right back where she started. Her stalling tactics had stopped working, but she couldn’t allow anyone else to do her bakery’s renovation.
No one else was Wallace Turlock. She’d already made that mistake once before, and wouldn’t do it again.
Besides, was it so wrong of her to want to keep him from going up to that lonely cabin where he retreated every January? No matter what anyone else believed about Wallace, she knew he wasn’t the loner type, destined to be a confirmed bachelor all his life.
And the remodeling work was good for him. Invigorating. She saw how much he enjoyed working with his hands, the tool belt hanging low on his hips. A hammer in his hand, sometimes a nail between his teeth. Those muscles in his forearms and in his back, the ones she could see bunching up beneath the surface of his work shirt.
And she sure enjoyed watching him. She sighed a little as she pulled into her carport. The renovation would be done soon, and she’d have run out of excuses to keep him around.
Too bad he’d never notice her in a million years. She’d always be Joe Hannigan’s little sister, even if she could rock Wallace’s world. She’d love just one chance to prove it.
Before going home, Genevieve knocked on her next-door neighbor’s door. The widow Mrs. Paulsen was one of the original homeowners in the pre-WWII housing development now christened Sweet U Lane. On account of how many of the homes were rentals and many of them occupied by college kids.
Mrs. Paulsen loved Genevieve’s pastries and because she didn’t get out much anymore, Genevieve always brought her the day’s leftovers.
“Hi Mrs. Paulsen,” Genevieve said when the widow opened the front door. It took a while, as she had three deadbolts, because of the rabble rousers she’d said. In other words, young people.
“Oh sweetheart! Aren’t you pretty. And what’s that you got there for me?” She reached out for the box.
“A little bit of everything. Enjoy.” Genevieve gave a quick wave and turned to leave.
“Wait, honey. There’s a package for you.” She reached behind her and handed Genevieve a medium sized box.
“For me? What on earth? I wasn’t expecting anything.” She usually had her packages delivered to the store.
“Well, maybe it’s a late Christmas present. Thank you for these sweets, doll.”
“Let me know if you need anything.” Genevieve crossed their small shared lawn back to her place, now carrying the box and her purse.
She let herself inside and put the package down, then went to get a dish of water for the stray cat that came around every now and then. When she walked back outside, there he was, as if waiting for her.
“You’re so sweet,” Gen said as she bent down with the dish of water.
The cat hissed at her, and Gen jumped back and nearly fell into the azalea bush.
“Be careful, honey. It’s a feral cat. I’ve told you that,” Mrs. Paulsen called out from behind her screen door.
“I know, but he needs water too.” She’d hoped to make friends with the cat, but so far progress was achingly slow.
Back inside, Gen picked up the package again. Maybe it was a mistake. She hadn’t ordered anything from— did the return address say KamaSutra Art? Curious, Genevieve opened the package and removed a hideous bronze statue of a man and a woman in the middle of copulation doggie-style.
“Ack!” She dropped the thing on the floor. “Is this some kind of joke?”
She searched inside the box and found a typed note: Saw this in New Mexico and thought of you. Missing you – Love, Allen.
Oh no. Not her ex-husband. He had freaky taste in art, but this was a new low. The phone rang and Genevieve caught it on the first ring. “Who is this?” she asked, half convinced Allen was on the other end of the line.
“Sugarplumb, is that how you’re answering the phone?” Her mother’s voice reached across the miles from Alabama and corrected Gen.
“Oh hi, Mom. Sorry about that.” Genevieve exhaled. She’d overreacted. Allen might send her a disgusting gift but he knew better than to call her.
“I’ve got some disturbing news. You wouldn’t believe who called me. Your ex-husband, bless his heart. He tried to sweet-talk me. Something about how he wants to give this marriage another try. Oh sugar, you wouldn’t get back together with the man who broke your mother’s heart, would you?”
“Of course not.”
Allen was on his way to Starlight Hill?
No, she couldn’t have that. Then everyone would know. One look at him and anyone with a pulse would know. And Wallace, here in town working on her shop. Oh no, no, no.
“Thank the good Lord
. And don’t worry, I told Joe. He’ll look out for you.”
“You told Joe?” Great. Her brother was already Alpha over protective, and this would send him into overdrive. Also, now that Joe had the information it was only one degree away from Wallace.
“Sugar, its Joe’s duty to look out for you ever since your daddy died. Now don’t go getting your panties in a twist. Next time you think of getting married in a McDonald’s drive-through, why not put the knife directly in my heart and save some time?”
“Mom, I told you it wasn’t a McDonald’s drive-through!”
“Any place that has the word ‘drive-through’ in it is not an appropriate marriage venue for a lady!”
Well, despite the fact that Genevieve didn’t always consider herself a lady, Mom was right. A drive-through wedding put the ‘T’ in tacky.
Genevieve stared at the bronze statue she’d dropped on the ground, and kicked it. She’d been married to the man for two whole months about six months ago. She’d now been divorced from him three times as long as she’d been married to him. A fine time to try to reconcile. It was never going to happen.
Because she wasn’t settling. Ever again.
2
Gen had met Allen on a singles cruise. The first of her many mistakes had been agreeing to go, but her best friend Desiree had begged.
“Please, when I meet Mr. Right I need someone to make sure I’m not making a mistake. I plan on doing a lot of drinking, and I’m not the best judge when I drink,” Desiree had said.
“You’re going to meet Mr. Wrong on this cruise,” Gen laughed into the phone.
“Oh well. At least we’ll have a good time.”
So she’d agreed to go on the silly singles cruise that left the port in Long Beach and wound its way to Puerto Vallarta and Cancun. Everyone in their right mind realized Cancun was tourism’s hot spot for singles. No one who had a good head on their shoulders would find a lifetime commitment there.
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