Until There Was You (Book 3)

by Bell, Heatherly

  “This isn’t art, Gen.” He shook the statue. “It’s porn.”

  Porn? It was Allen’s idea of art. “Regardless. I’m throwing it away.”

  “Please. Let me.” He walked over to the trash can in the kitchen and threw it in. Then he turned to her. “I better stay after all. He’s not over you, Gen. Unless you’re interested…”

  “No! But it’s just a statue. Aren’t you overreacting?”

  His eyes smoldered with heat. “Overreacting? You haven’t seen your ex in six months and he sends you a statue of a couple copulating right before he looks you up again. Think he’s giving you a big hint?”

  This was going better than she could have expected. She thought she saw a throbbing vein in Wallace’s neck. “You know what? You sound kind of jealous.”

  “I’m not jealous.”

  She took a deep breath and found her last nerve. “Face it. You want me as much as I want you. Those kisses, they don’t lie. You have feelings for me. Why not admit it?”

  Wallace’s phone buzzed and he glanced at the caller ID. “It’s Billy. I need to take this.”

  Of course he did. Any reason to avoid talking about feelings.

  “Yeah.” Wallace spoke into his phone. “Is that right? That’s— well, that’s great. Right?” He glanced at Gen, nodded, broke into a rare smile and threw his head back. “Why can’t you —? Fine. I’ll be right over.”

  “Where are you going?” He wasn’t getting away from her before they could discuss the heat between them. Speaking of heat, she had to check on her stew.

  Wallace followed her back to the kitchen.

  “Billy wants me to drop by our mother’s. You won’t believe this, but you did it.” He smiled at her, and Gen saw what she’d forgotten— Wallace didn’t have Allen’s smile at all. Far from perfect, even though the teeth were straight and white, the smile was slightly crooked. One corner of the mouth curved more than the other like he didn’t use it often enough to know how. And it was so rare that seeing that smile often felt like a solar eclipse. It also did strange things to her body, and a zing went right through to the soles of her feet.

  Gen dropped her ladle. “I did what?”

  “Whatever you said, you convinced my mother. She’s called off the engagement.”

  “Me? What did I say?”

  “I don’t know, but it must have been what she needed to hear. Thanks.” He picked her up in his arms and whirled her around the kitchen.

  Gen’s breath caught in her throat. When Wallace set her down, he studied her again, his eyes zeroing in on her lips. His thumb traced the curve of her jaw, and she parted her lips, getting ready for his kiss. Waiting like a child waits for Santa on Christmas Eve. But it didn’t come.

  He let her go, and made a show of looking for his keys. “Sorry about dinner, but I need to go see what’s going on with my mother. Billy said I should check in on her.”

  “Why?” Genevieve asked, still rooted to the spot where he’d left her.

  “I don’t know. She’s upset or something. And you know Billy, God forbid he leave Brooke alone for a second. And Pop will be fairly useless. If it isn’t about grapes or baseball, he’s got nothing.”

  “Of course she’s upset. She just ended her engagement with the man she loves. I’m coming with you.” She shut off the stove.

  With no idea what she’d said to change Mrs. Turlock’s mind, Gen prepared to talk some sense into Wallace’s mother. A woman didn’t just give up on the man she loved. After talking to Mrs. Turlock, Gen had been convinced more than ever that she and Wallace belonged together. No matter how hard it would be, no matter how far out of her comfort zone she would have to travel to get there, she had to have Wallace.

  Wallace’s eyes narrowed and he laid a hand on Gen’s shoulder. “If you come with me, you don’t want to undo all your good work. Remember, she barely knows the man. And you have firsthand experience on how that doesn’t work.”

  “She has to end the engagement for the right reasons. If she doesn’t, she’ll always regret it. Don’t you want your mother to be happy?” She jammed her hands on her hips.

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe there’s a romantic in you yet, dying to come out. There’s hope for you.” Genevieve grabbed her purse. “Let’s go, Romeo.”

  They drove in silence to Mrs. Turlock’s house on the outskirts of town on county land. Genevieve had been there every year for the annual Turlock family barbeque, but the size and scope of the home never ceased to amaze her. Billy had spoiled his family when he’d come into money with his first superstar contract. From time to time she’d felt bad for Wallace, since he’d sacrificed so much for his brother’s career, but it never seemed to matter to him. Just one of the many in a long list of reasons she loved him.

  “Remember what I said.” Wallace turned to Gen at the front door of his mother’s house.

  Wallace’s grandfather opened the door, Gen’s favorite octogenarian. She folded into his arms.

  “Well if it isn’t Genevieve! My darling, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “Gen wanted to come,” Wallace said, and she felt him put his hand on her back to lead her inside.

  “Come on in, you two. We’re having a bit of a wake here, and I could use a reprieve.” Pop walked through the massive marbled entryway towards the living room.

  Mrs. Turlock was seated on the sofa, a box of tissues at her side. She rose as they walked in. “Thank you for coming.”

  It did seem a little bit like a wake. Mrs. Turlock even had a photo of Giancarlo on the coffee table. Genevieve hugged Wallace’s mother. “I had to come. I’m so sorry.”

  “Sorry, Ma. Are you okay?” Wallace asked.

  “Not really. It’s a tragedy, when you think of it,” Mrs. Turlock said.

  Pop snorted. “Eileen, for the love of Pete. The man’s not dead. I told you that you were too old to get married. But did you listen to me? Does anyone ever listen to me?”

  Wallace walked over to Pop and put an arm around him. “What do you say we leave the women alone?”

  “Son, I’ve been waiting to hear that all day.” Both men walked out of the room.

  Genevieve took a good long look at Mrs. Turlock— hair mussed up; face streaked with tears, eyes brimmed red. Poor woman. Gen put her hand on Mrs. Turlock’s. “What happened? You seemed so happy when I was here the other day. You convinced me that true love comes in all shapes and sizes. And time frames.”

  “You tried to tell me, but I didn’t want to listen. I didn’t want to believe it, but you were right.”

  Gen swallowed hard. “I was?”

  “I’ve known Giancarlo for a few years, but I never felt that spark. Like you, I think it happened because I was so lonely. Pining away for the right man. My ex-husband, of course.” Mrs. Turlock patted Gen’s hand.

  Gen’s other hand flew to her mouth. “Your— your ex-husband? What does he have to do with this?”

  “When you mentioned that secret love of yours, it made me think. Maybe I never got over the father of my children.”

  Gen gulped and turned around. Nope, the men weren’t within listening distance. She had mentioned Wallace the other day, but only in passing and without naming anyone. “But—”

  “Like you said, when there’s a man in your past that you’ve always loved, how can that compete with some of these flash in the pan guys? Your marriage didn’t work, dear, and neither will mine.” Mrs. Turlock let out a hiccupping sob.

  “Oh, Mrs. Turlock.” Genevieve’s heart felt ripped apart.

  “It was a nice dream while it lasted.”

  Genevieve needed to tread carefully. She let out a deep breath. “Here’s the thing. I may not have mentioned this the other day, but my secret love— he’s not perfect.”

  “He sure sounded perfect.”

  And Mrs. Turlock probably did think that way about her oldest son, Gen conceded. Not that she realized who Gen had referred to. “He’s not all that romantic if you want the truth.”


  “Yes! That’s the problem. Giancarlo is not the slightest bit romantic. Not like my Billy. You heard about the way he proposed to Brooke, didn’t you? That’s the way to do it. Not over mashed potatoes and gravy!”

  “Mashed potatoes and gravy?”

  “It was Thanksgiving, and I’m in the middle of cooking a big dinner for my entire family, and what does he do but propose to me? I was beating the mashed potatoes at the time, I believe.” Mrs. Turlock sniffed. “I don’t eat starch anymore, but my boys wanted them. Speaking of food, Giancarlo had the audacity to say that he doesn’t like my cooking.”

  Gen’s hand came up to her chest and she tried not to gasp. Why not just stick a knife in Mrs. Turlock’s heart? It would probably be kinder. “Why would he say that?”

  “Maybe he’s already bored. First, my cooking. What’s next? We haven’t even said ‘I do’ yet and he’s got one foot out the door!”

  “What did he say when you broke off the engagement?”

  “He said, ‘if that’s what you want, my love’ and then he left. That was about two hours ago.” She looked at the grandfather clock. “What happened to fighting for the one you love? Why would he just walk out like that?”

  “So this just happened?” No wonder Mrs. Turlock was so upset. The body was barely cold.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Turlock said and dissolved into tears again. “Why wouldn’t he try and talk me out of it?”

  Gen thought about her break-up with Allen. She’d been grateful that he hadn’t fought for her either, and calmly accepted the reality. Until now. Why he’d come out here after six months was still a mystery to her. “Maybe Giancarlo thinks that going into a marriage without being one hundred percent sure means it won’t last. Giancarlo still has his daughter Sophia at home so he might be worried that you’re not committed enough to him. I don’t know.”

  Gen was just winging it now, but Mrs. Turlock nodded, so Gen kept going. “My situation is different. My guy doesn’t know how I feel, not yet. But the truth is I don’t think I’ll ever get over him. No matter how many other men come around. He’s the one for me.”

  “We need to go,” Wallace said from behind Genevieve.

  Crap. How much of that had he heard? The whole thing? Part of it? Which part? Gen couldn’t take in a breath for a moment. Yes, she’d planned on telling him how she felt, but she hadn’t counted on his eavesdropping to hear about it.

  “Thank you, Genevieve, I do feel better. A little. I have a lot to think about.” Mrs. Turlock reached in for another hug, then turned to Wallace. “Son, take care of this angel. She’s very wise for her years.”

  “She sure is,” Wallace said with a tight-lipped smile.

  He knows. He’d heard everything, and it had pissed him off.

  Chapter 8

  Wallace didn’t know why his gut felt like it had digested glass. He shouldn’t be surprised that Genevieve thought she’d never get over Allen. He was the one for her. Yeah, he’d walked in on the end of that conversation, and it pissed him off. She’d been lying to him, playing with him, using him. Like a typical woman. And while he’d never thought of Genevieve as typical, she’d surprised him again.

  “Why are you being so quiet?” Gen said from the passenger side. “You don’t need to be angry. I didn’t try to convince her to give Giancarlo another shot.”

  “Good.” He couldn’t help it. Words were in scarce supply at the moment. But this didn’t make sense, and he didn’t know why he was so disappointed.

  “I can tell you’re mad.”

  He ought to let Gen sweat it out, but they’d always been able to talk. They’d been friends first, before she grew boobs and the world class ass. “I heard what you said, there at the end.”

  “Oh,” Genevieve sank in her seat. “I thought so. Let me explain—”

  His fingers dug into the steering wheel. “You don’t have to. You’re not over Allen and that’s fine. But I hate that you lied to me. We’ve never lied to each other.” Unless one counts keeping things from each other, genius, like the fact that you’d love to bend her over the couch.

  “I’m sorry that I lied to you,” Gen sighed.

  “It’s okay.” It was not okay, but it would have to be.

  “I’m sorry that I’ve been lying to you for over ten years.”

  He nearly drove off the road. “Ten years?”

  “Pull over.”

  “Why the hell should I pull over?”

  “Pull over, Wallace! Pull over!”

  She sounded so agitated that he listened, and veered off on the shoulder of Champagne Road near the entrance to Starlight Hill. “All right Crazy Woman, what is it? Why did you make me pull over?”

  “It’s you.” She spoke so quietly he wasn’t sure he’d heard her.

  “It’s me. What’s me?”

  “Oh my Lord! Why are men so dense?” Genevieve slid over close to him. “You’re the one I’ll never get over. Every other guy has been the distraction.”

  “Gen, wait. You don’t know what you’re saying—”

  “Shut up, and don’t tell me it’s a crush! It’s not a crush, Wallace. I know what I feel. I know what I want. I’m twenty-eight years old and I’m looking at the only man I’ve ever wanted. Most of the time you didn’t even know I was alive, so what could I do? I dated other guys. But they were never good enough.”

  “That’s because you picked lo—” He stopped himself. “You didn’t always pick the best guys.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered who I picked, because each one of them was going to be second best to you. And then I went for the Mother Lode of mistakes. I married Allen. It was so stupid, I know. But I was on the cruise, and he was there, reminding me of you. He liked me, and I thought what the hell. I’ll never have Wallace. So I settled.”

  That kicked him in the gut, and he didn’t have words for a moment. “You— settled.”

  “I know what it sounds like, believe me. But that’s why my marriage didn’t last, why it couldn’t last. He wasn’t you.”

  “Gen—” Are you sure? He was certain he should ask that, along with a few other cautionary words. Because he and Gen were never going to be easy or simple. They were beginning with Complicated. But somehow, damned if he wasn’t ready for complicated with her. More than ready.

  She kissed him then, in that way of hers that made him wonder why he ever spent time doing anything else. He was losing control of the situation, almost as certainly as he was a contractor licensed in the state of California and Nevada, because right now all he could think about was getting her in the back seat. He hadn’t been this desperate in a long time. But they couldn’t do that, his logical mind screamed at him, because Burt regularly patrolled this street.

  And Gen deserved better than that. She deserved him to be patient, control himself, and take his time.

  Somehow they made it back to her place, though he wasn’t quite sure how. Gen pulled on his hand and led him through the front door where she began feeding him her slow torturous kisses again. He backed her up against the couch, and she went down, bringing him with her. This was definitely working for him, except for the fact that there were too many clothes between them. She yanked off his sweater, and not to be outdone he removed hers. A lacy black bra greeted him, one which fortunately had a forward facing clasp and came off easily. Treated to her milky white skin and soft rosy pink nipples, he drew a nipple into his mouth and reminded himself to slow down. But then Gen bucked against him and slowing down suddenly seemed like a foreign concept. He’d slow down next time.

  Or maybe the time after that, because one thing was certain: he wouldn’t be done here for the foreseeable future.

  *****

  It turned out that Gen hadn’t rocked Wallace’s world. He’d rocked hers. Either way, there’d been a lot of rocking going on. All night long. The kind that would have sunk the Titanic without help from the iceberg.

  At some point during the evening Gen had tiptoed out of bed wearing his white under
shirt and put the pot of stew back to simmer. They could eat this later, and it would be so incredibly rich and flavorful because now the meat and vegetables hadn’t just had time to get to know each other— by now they were probably sending out engraved invitations to the wedding. She’d covered the pot when her legs came out from under her and she was in Wallace’s arms again.

  “You’re killing me in that t-shirt,” he said into her neck.

  “Hmmm. This is going to be the best beef stew I’ve ever made.” Gen lowered her head into the crook of his shoulder as he carried her back to bed.

  “You do realize I was joking about the three-minute mile, and the broad shoulders?” He didn’t drop her onto the bed this time, but gently lowered her, then covered her with his big hard body.

  She smiled. “But not the beef stew, I hope?”

  His eyes were studying her again. “I’ll eat anything you cook me. And I’ll eat anything that belongs to you. In fact…”

  Gen jumped out of her skin and had an out-of-body experience when he lowered his head, nudged her thighs open and proved it.

  A while later, Gen lay in Wallace’s arms and didn’t know how much time had passed— not a good thing for a woman who had something simmering on the stove. “My stew!”

  Wallace startled. “What?”

  “Oh no, no no no.” Gen rolled out of Wallace’s arms and put the shirt back on.

  She ran into the kitchen to save her baby— but once she lifted the lid the sad and tragic truth hit her. She’d killed the beef stew. Because she’d apparently been too caught up in her own selfish and decadent needs, she’d neglected dinner. Okay, maybe not dinner— which had passed hours ago— but sustenance. Not to mention it happened to be the first time she’d burned anything since— had she ever burned anything?

  “It’s ruined.”

  Wallace was behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “My fault. I distracted you. Should have made you shut off the stove, because I had plans for you that were going to take a while. I guess we’re lucky we didn’t burn the house down.”

  She sighed. “I really can make beef stew.”