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?” 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 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 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 kept 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 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, Yumminess 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 wore 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 shivered 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 turned her in on 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 to have a bottle to 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.” She 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.
“Calm down.”
“I am calm.” Was that her heart making a loud thumping sound in her chest? “Maybe I should sit down.”
“Yes, maybe you should,” Gigi said.
“No, I can’t sit down. I have to go change.” She brushed by Gigi and didn’t stop until she heard the sound of a black panther speaking again.
“Brooke?”
Brooke took a deep breath, stopped and turned, ready for the onslaught. Maybe they could do the figurative knock down drag out now, before she put on her nice dress. “Yeah?”
“You’ve done a fantastic job.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Well, she wasn’t expecting that. Kindness from Cruella. She’d take it.
An hour later, Brooke was showered and frantically trying to find her red slinky dress. The one that had been in her closet a few minutes ago. Finally, she located it hiding behind a black sweater. Why couldn’t she calm down? Something— nameless— seemed to be clawing its way up her throat.
Brooke pulled the festive red dress with a sweetheart neckline off the hanger.
And why wouldn’t she be nervous? The last time she’d thrown an event, she’d lost both her boyfriend and her job in one night. Lost her head and nearly trashed her career. She’d always kept such a close lid on her emotions that every time they came rising to the surface the way they had that night— she just didn’t know what to do with them. She usually wound up exploding.
‘Venting’, Mom had called it once. She’d said that Brooke needed to learn how to ‘vent’ better. Let the steam slowly hiss out of the teapot instead of spewing out in a big cloud of steam that would be bound to burn someone.
She unzipped the dress and stepped into it.
But that’s why she had a Harley, the skydiving, the bungee jumping. Venting on steroids. Only thing, she hadn’t had any time for those pursuits lately. Which might be the reason she currently felt like screaming.
She’d willingly given the one thing she swore she’d never risk: her heart. She wasn’t ever supposed to risk that part of her anatomy, dammit. Bones would break and heal, but a broken heart was never the same.
That’s what had happened to Mom. After the divorce, she’d never been the same. Quit her high powered law firm and moved to an organic farm that might as well be a modern day commune. Dad told everyone who would listen she’d had a nervous breakdown, and Brooke wondered if it could have been true. B
ut for the most part Mom was perfectly lucid, if a little too passionate about trees. But the divorce had ruined her, both financially, and emotionally.
Brooke couldn’t let that happen to her.
That’s why she tried to control everything in her life, and succeeded for the most part. Yes, she’d risked her job with George— dating her boss— but she’d never risked her heart. No, he’d never come anywhere near that muscle.
Since she met him again, Billy had waged a slow and steady battle for her heart. He’d forced her to give up control, and damn if he hadn’t made if feel good. Scary, but wonderful.
She’d tried so hard to control her heart around Billy, but she’d been kidding herself. Suddenly the near hysteria made sense, because she’d done the one thing she swore she’d never do. From the first time he’d kissed her ten years ago when it felt like the world had stopped spinning for a moment, she’d made up her mind that falling for Billy Turlock would be craziest thing she could ever do.
And damn if she didn’t feel certifiable.
*****
“So, any talk of a comeback?” One of the reporters asked.
A camera clicked and Billy blinked. “Guys, I just retired. No, there’s no comeback.”
Fortunately, no one had to know that he still felt like he was missing a limb. Still walked around wondering what he’d do with himself for the next thirty years, because it wouldn’t be baseball any more.
So far he’d fooled everyone with the belief that would be fine with him. Except for Brooke, since she’d always had that way of looking right inside him. She could tell something wasn’t right. He hadn’t told her anything because he didn’t even want her to know. What man wanted the woman he loved to know that he felt like half a man?
That he wasn’t sure anything other than baseball would satisfy that hole inside his heart? The smell of the grassy diamond field, the worn leather of his favorite glove, the swish sound of the ball as it left his hand at ninety miles an hour.
“Excuse me, boys.”
He turned to see that Gigi had entered the room and announced her presence.
Great. He might have known she’d be upset that he hadn’t asked her advice for this press junket, so she’d arrived early. “Everyone say hello to my publicist, Gigi Rosenberg.”
She sidled up next to him. “Hello, stranger. This seems like an appropriate time and venue to make this announcement. I haven’t even talked to Billy about this yet.” She put a hand on his shoulder.
Gigi realized he didn’t like surprises. He gave his best grin through a stiff jaw.
“Billy Turlock has just received an offer from ABC Sports.”
More bright camera flashes, and an outpouring of questions from the reporters:
“I thought you were a vintner.”
“Does this mean you’ll leave Starlight Hill again?”
“Will they make you cut your long hair?”
“What’s the salary?”
“Will you accept the offer?”
He glared at Gigi. This was not the kind of news he wanted to hear about in front of an audience. She knew full well how he felt about the talking heads. He wasn’t one of them, and never would be.
His place was still on a baseball field, if only he could find a way to do it. Maybe Brooke was right. Maybe coaching high school baseball wasn’t the craziest thing in the world.
“One question at a time, folks.” Gigi waved her hand. “Billy has hardly had time to absorb the news himself. But I think we can all agree, this means that Billy Turlock’s star power is still alive and well. You haven’t seen the last of him in baseball.”
Brooke walked in at that moment, a vision in a red form fitting dress. She’d obviously heard the tail end of the statement because her eyes were wide open and questioning. Vulnerability showed in her amber eyes, and he was transported back to a single night so many years ago. A surge of tenderness kicked him so hard in the chest he considered checking his pulse.
“Excuse me, but I have to borrow Billy as the Cub Scouts have arrived on Santa’s boat. You’re welcome to stick around if you like, but the rest of the evening will be all about wine. No more baseball talk.”
Billy felt a grin coming on. Brooke had a way of doing that to him— of changing the face of the landscape. Instead of quicksand beneath him he distinctly felt solid ground. Somehow she managed to center him. To be his compass.
She returned his grin with a shy smile of her own – his girl, despite the wild nature beneath – was more vulnerable than she wanted anyone to know. Needier than she’d ever admit.
Once he and Pop had taken at least a dozen photos with Santa and his sleigh and the parade boat took off to make its way through the rest of the town, they were officially in business.
“Well, Pop, we did it,” Billy said.
Inside, Mom and Giancarlo were holding hands and smiling ear to ear. That’s what he liked to see. Chaste behavior from his Mom and her fiancé.
“Oh Billy, I’m so happy, darling. Pop finally has his dream.” Mom said, hugging him. If he wasn’t mistaken, her eyes were misty.
Giancarlo shook his hand, patting his back. “Well done, son. We can never, in my opinion, have too much wine.”
“I would have to agree.” From behind him, Billy heard an unfamiliar deep voice.
Turning, he saw a man he didn’t recognize.
“George,” Giancarlo said without a hint of warmth.
“Have we met?” Billy extended his hand to the man he realized must be George Serrano.
“I don’t believe we have, even though we have so much in common.” The man shook Billy’s hand like a dead fish. “George Serrano. And this is my fiancée, Chelsea.”
A tiny brunette who didn’t look old enough to drink stepped forward. “Oh my gosh, Billy, my dad is like your greatest fan.”
“Always nice to hear.” Billy couldn’t put his finger on it but something about this man set him on edge. Made him stiffen like nails on a chalkboard.
“We’re anxious to taste your first vintage. You probably know Serrano’s won the label three years in a row— ”
George was stopped from tooting his own horn when Brooke appeared at Billy’s elbow, pulling at him. “Sorry to interrupt, but there are some people I want you to meet.”
He couldn’t help but notice the tension in the air, charged and amped the moment Brooke interrupted. George stiffened and looked like he’d swallowed poison. Something definitely going on. But he’d already long suspected that the two hadn’t parted well.
He caught himself enjoying the small display of PDA when Brooke perhaps unconsciously held on to his hand longer than necessary and pulled him in another direction.
Seemed like a hundred different directions. Other vintners, restaurant owners coming from San Francisco, most of the lamenting the price of a good wine. Other business owners in town, wishing him success.
Billy saw and heard Pop make his way around the party on his own, imparting wisdom as only he could do. Letting everyone who would listen know that he hadn’t needed his frenemy’s help after all, thank you very much. Singing to the grapes was the key to a good vintage.
All in all, it was a great turn-out. The room filled to capacity, Eric and the others pouring, selling at times by the case. Who knew people would be willing to pay so much for a bottle of wine?
Brooke Miller, that’s who.
This – their entire success – was due to her hard work. Early on he’d made the decision to cede control to her and he hadn’t regretted it for a moment. Thanks to her hard work, there was every possibility that they’d be out of the black soon and he wouldn’t be forced to take the sports casting job.
Maybe he could coach the local team, or open the pitching clinic he’d dreamed about one day. Gigi and all her talk of diminishing star power and returns be damned.
Brooke was right. This didn’t have to be an all or nothing proposition.
He caught Brooke staring at him from across the room, engaged
in a conversation with Ivey and Jeff. Those two were so in love they could hardly keep their hands off each other.
If it were up to him, that would be him and Brooke. He didn’t care what anyone thought. But he had to respect her wishes, and he understood why as a woman she wouldn’t want anyone thinking she’d done anything improper to get the job. Nothing like wrenching his heart out of his chest.
Nothing like that.
“Hey, so where’s a man to find his Scotch?”
Billy turned to see Wallace had arrived. The lone wolf again. No one understood why. Billy had watched, at times with a twinge of envy, the way Wallace turned female heads when he walked into a room.
“No Scotch tonight, bro. Drink up from the vine. Go on, the water’s fine.” Billy slapped his brother’s back.
“Yeah, yeah. Have you seen Scott? I’m going to make sure he doesn’t force me to drive him home tonight.”
Billy had, and he pointed in little brother’s direction. Currently Scott appeared to be hamming it up with Melinda, whom Billy hadn’t even seen come in.
Thankfully Scott had listened, and not brought Fallon. Billy had expressly told him not to. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to make Brooke feel uncomfortable tonight, or any night.
Genevieve approached with a tray of items Billy hoped he’d be eating in heaven if he ever got to walk through those pearly gates.
“Bacon puff?” She asked, more to Billy than Wallace.
“You don’t have to ask me twice.” Billy took a bite of bacon-encrusted joy.
He wasn’t sure how Wallace, who had once eaten an entire pound of bacon by himself, could resist. But he was, barely glancing in Genevieve’s direction. She, for her part, was doing a great job of acting like she didn’t notice the tall man standing right next to her.
Yeah, definitely something going on there.
“Genevieve, would you marry me and cook this for me every morning?” Billy joked. Flirting felt safe, since Genevieve knew well that he and Brooke were an item.
Somebody Like You (Starlight Hill Series Book 2) Page 22
