Until There Was You (Book 3)

by Bell, Heatherly

  Within a few minutes he had a text from Gen: Don’t do anything crazy without me.

  It made him smile. He led the way to a couple of stools at the bar, where, as predicted, Arnie was already talking about mime school.

  “You think it’s easy? Let me tell you, dude, it’s an art. I was pretty good in my day. I had all the moves. You have to be in complete control of your body. Do you want to see me do man in a box? Because I can!”

  “Please don’t,” Someone on the other side of the bar yelled.

  Joe laughed. “I never get tired of hearing it, Arnie.”

  “What’ll you have, smart ass?” Arnie asked Joe.

  “Gimme a beer.”

  “I’ve have a malt scotch, neat,” Wallace said, and took out his wallet.

  Joe slid him a look. “You only order that when you’re depressed.”

  “Not true.” He also drank scotch when he had a lot of thinking to do. It occurred to him that for the past several hours he’d been mostly feeling, and not thinking enough.

  But Gen had a way of doing that to him.

  “You have no idea how hard it is to only make a sad face when people throw food at you,” Arnie was saying to someone else. “I wanted to kill those people. But that’s not the mime way.”

  Wallace took a swallow. “What would you think about me and Gen?”

  “You and Gen what?” Joe reached for his beer.

  Wallace quirked an eyebrow. “You know.”

  “Well, I don’t know, Wallace, I guess I would have to say that dreams really do come true. Hold on, I might just get the vapors.” Joe fanned himself and laughed, but then must have caught the expression on Wallace’s face. “Oh, wait. You’re serious?”

  As serious as the heart attack he felt he had every time Gen said his name as she came in his arms. Which was crazy. “Yeah.”

  Joe blinked. “So what— pretending made you realize you actually want to be with her?”

  “Something like that.” That was the short version.

  “She’s my sister, man.”

  Wallace sat up straighter. “Exactly. She’s not my sister.”

  “Great. Look, is this a good idea? I mean, sure, she’s always had a crush on you.”

  Wallace winced. He hated that word because it sounded so temporary. “This is different. I think.”

  “But look how many times she changed her mind about the floors. And she’s had so many boyfriends.”

  “That was mostly our fault, you know. We never thought anyone was good enough.”

  Joe took a pull of his beer. “Then there’s her marriage. She’s vulnerable now.”

  Wallace nodded. “True.”

  Joe shut his eyes and put a hand to his forehead. “Hey Arnie, let me have a tequila shot.”

  Wallace swallowed hard. “Is it that bad of an idea?”

  “This is a serious conversation.” Joe paid Arnie for the shot, then slammed it down. “I guess I always worried maybe someday you and Gen would— ah, I don’t know.”

  “Wind up together?”

  “I didn’t think you were interested.” Joe winced as though either the tequila or the conversation weren’t going down well.

  “I wasn’t.” Best not to tell Joe that he’d noticed Gen a while back. Maybe better not to tell him how long he’d stuffed the feelings down. He was just getting used to the reality of that himself. “Things change.”

  “Well, I don’t like it. I asked you to look out for her, not hook up with her.”

  “Hey, I didn’t plan this.”

  Joe asked for another shot, and slammed that one down. “Aw man, what am I supposed to do when you guys break up? I can’t hate you. I don’t want to hate you, dammit!”

  “Then don’t hate me.”

  “Am I supposed to jump for joy at the idea of my sister dating a commitment phobe? I mean, you’re like the George Clooney of Starlight Hill.”

  “Clooney got married,” Arnie told Joe.

  “Shut up, Arnie!” Joe answered him.

  Wallace wanted to spit, but this was damn good scotch. “That guy is twenty years older than me, and who says I’m the George Clooney of Starlight Hill? I want names.”

  “Shit, your exes for one.”

  Wallace slammed down the last of his scotch. It didn’t go down easy. “I see, and you want to take their word for it.”

  “Ashley said you told her you’d never get married.”

  “To her.” This was not going well. He slapped a few bills down on the bar. “Have another shot on me. I’m going to let you think about this for a while. And try not to get pissed about the fact that you don’t think I’m good enough for Gen.”

  Joe groaned. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.” He stood up.

  Joe followed him out the door. “Don’t you get it? On the one hand, this could be great. My best friend and my little sister. I’d never have to worry about her again. As long as it works out, it’d be like a dream. And if it doesn’t, the whole thing could be a freaking nightmare.”

  Wallace swallowed hard. It wasn’t as though the thought hadn’t crossed his mind.

  *****

  Gen kept checking her phone, but Wallace hadn’t replied to her text message. He’d just walked out of her house with Joe. Acted like the past glorious hours hadn’t happened. Other than the way he squeezed her hand before he left, it might have been any other day. But it wasn’t. It was a red letter day. The day she’d made love to Wallace Turlock. He was so— real. Not at all like her fantasies. Better.

  She cleaned up the kitchen mess. How Joe hadn’t realized something unusual had to have occurred in order for her to burn dinner was a mystery. She tried not to linger long over the plate formerly filled with strawberries as she rinsed off the chocolate.

  She straightened up the couch, changed her sheets and made her bed, put a dish of water out for the feral cat who had shown up again. He wasn’t any friendlier this time as his fur stood up, his back arched and he hissed at her as thanks for the water. Giving up on making friends with Satan, she went next door and checked on Mrs. Paulsen.

  Then there was little to do but feel sorry for herself. Wallace hadn’t called or texted back. Well, she wouldn’t be ‘that girl.’ Not the girl who waited by the phone for his call. She’d never been that girl, and she wasn’t about to start now. Not even for Wallace.

  Gen dialed Desiree. It was Saturday night, so she was taking a big chance that Desiree would be home. She picked up on the first ring.

  “Do you know how you always want me to go out but I usually stay home and watch TV?” Gen asked.

  “Don’t tell me you want to go out tonight.”

  “I’m feeling stir crazy.”

  “I can’t go out with you. I accidentally dyed my hair purple.”

  “How did that happen?” Desiree was always trying new and bold colors but they weren’t usually that crazy.

  “I was going for blue and I went a little too wild.”

  Gen smothered a laugh. “That’s not a big deal.”

  “You haven’t seen me yet.”

  “Wear a hat.”

  Desiree snorted into the phone. “You come over here and we’ll watch a movie on Netflix.”

  “I’m going to take myself out to dinner at the diner. You should meet me there, if you want to hear about me and Wallace. We’re dating now,” Gen said.

  Desiree gasped. “No way. I’ll see you there.”

  Gen grabbed her purse and was out the door. The problem with Starlight Hill was that for all the beautiful vineyards dotted through town there was little night life. Usually she liked it that way. But tonight it would be nice to go dancing somewhere, maybe blow off some steam.

  Of course there was the Tavern, where Wallace and Joe would be. But she couldn’t go there or she’d look desperate. She’d be fourteen again, the proverbial tagalong.

  Fortunately the diner was open late on Saturday night, the owner’s, Em and Silas’, one concession to t
he lack of night life. Gen opened the door to the smells of homemade pot roast, fresh baked bread and butter. Yes, she could smell butter. It was a gift. She didn’t mind coming to the diner to eat. Her only requirements were that someone could cook as well as she did, and not charge her a week’s salary for the pleasure.

  “Just one, honey?” Em asked as she grabbed a menu.

  “Desiree is coming.” Gen followed Em to a booth.

  Em whipped out her pad. “The pot roast is succulent tonight.”

  “I’ll have that. But bring me the mashed potatoes on a separate plate without the gravy. Also, let me add the butter. And—”

  Em held up her hand. “I know the drill.”

  Within a few minutes, the door opened and Desiree breezed in, a rainbow-colored knit cap on her head. She waved hello to Em and sat down in a huff. “You’re cruel.”

  “That’s a cute cap.” Gen tried not to laugh. “Going skiing later?”

  “Shut up. Tell me everything.”

  “Tell you what?” Gen teased.

  Desiree leaned in. “Did you rock his world? Did you seal the deal? Did you get the goods? Did you f—”

  “Stop!”

  “Girl, if you tell me you’re not going to kiss and tell I’ll take this salt shaker,” she picked it up, “and brain you with it.”

  Gen smiled, the afterglow of being thoroughly and completely satisfied settling in her bones. “I sealed the deal.”

  Desiree slapped her hand down on the table. “You did not! After all this time?”

  “I did. I mean, he did.” Well, she’d become a blubbering idiot. “We did.”

  “Get out! So, where is he?” Desiree looked around, like maybe Gen had stuck Wallace under the table.

  But that was part of the problem. “He’s with Joe.”

  Desire leaned back. “With Joe? Why? Wasn’t it good?”

  “It was fantastic.” Explosive, wild, hot and passionate beyond her wildest dreams.

  “I don’t get it.”

  “We got back from the market, and Joe showed up. So basically, it’s like business as usual.” Realistically, she had realized Joe would be coming home. But she thought she’d have more time.

  “Uh-oh. You know what this means, don’t you?”

  Gen traced the edge of her napkin. “I’ve got to have a talk with Joe?”

  She quirked an eyebrow. “No. You’re a booty call.”

  “No, I’m not. Wallace wouldn’t do that to me.”

  Desiree’s head cocked. “How do you know?”

  “I just know him.”

  Desiree snapped her fingers in the air. “You know your big brother’s best friend. You know hero Wallace, good guy Wallace. You don’t know Bomdiggity Wallace. Booty-call Wallace. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am—”

  “Stop. You’re wrong. He wouldn’t do that to me.” She slipped a look at her phone, and still no text from Wallace.

  “The real Wallace might not be the fantasy you’ve carried around in your head since you were fourteen.”

  “I know that! Why are you saying this to me? I thought you were my friend.”

  Em brought out Gen’s dinner. “Pot roast, mashed potatoes, no gravy. Butter on the side.”

  “How can you eat like that?” Desiree frowned. “Aren’t you worried you’re going to get fat? Only men eat this much.”

  “Shush child,” Em said to Desiree, “Do not argue with a woman who loves to eat. We make the best cooks.” She turned to go.

  “She’s right. And I’m hungry. I worked up a hell of an appetite.”

  Desiree’s jaw dropped a little. “Wow. Really?”

  “Really.” She bit into the pot roast, and smiled around it.

  “I’m only trying to help. Like I tried to help with Allen. I tried to tell you not to move in with him, but did you listen to me? I tried to tell you he wasn’t Wallace, but no, you didn’t want to hear it.”

  Gen nodded. “I should have listened to you.”

  “Yes, and you should listen to me now. If you weren’t a booty call, he would have come back.”

  “Maybe he still will. It’s not that late.” She looked at her phone again. Still no text.

  “If he comes back at two AM you better not open that door. That’s a booty call.” Desiree brought up her index finger and twitched it.

  “Ok. But he won’t do that.”

  “Shit!” Desiree yanked the cap further down her head.

  “What is it?” Genevieve turned, and saw Allen as he walked towards them. That was bad enough, but Ashley was with him. Ashley, who was tall, model-thin and gorgeous with her fake blonde hair extensions. Wallace’s ex was Allen’s date? This was the woman he’d talked about earlier tonight?

  “We meet again.” Allen stopped by their table, his arm slung around Ashley. “Ashley, this is Genev—”

  “We know,” Gen answered in stereo surround sound with Ashley and Desiree.

  “Oh, right. Small town,” Allen continued.

  “Nice hat, Desiree,” Ashley said with a smirk.

  “Thanks,” Desiree said, then gave Gen a death glare.

  “So Genevieve, where’s New Wallace?” Allen asked, pulling Ashley closer.

  “Why do you call him New Wallace?” Ashley asked.

  “Actually, no one’s ever told me his real name.” Allen smiled.

  Gen coughed.

  Desiree smirked.

  “His name is Wallace. That’s his real name,” Ashley said slowly.

  “Are you kidding me? Well, well, Gen. Good for you. That’s amazing,” Allen said. “What a find.”

  “You’re dating Wallace, I heard,” Ashley sneered and leaned in to Allen. “Have fun while it lasts. He’s all right, if you don’t mind someone with commitment issues.”

  Wait. Did Wallace have commitment issues? Gen didn’t think so. She ignored Ashley’s snide comment.

  “Is that right?” Allen asked. “Me? I’d love to get married again.”

  “Of course you would,” Desiree piped up. “And who knows? Maybe this time it will last longer than two months.”

  “You needed the right woman.” Ashley smiled and nodded.

  “And I needed the right man!” Genevieve shouted.

  Allen blinked and turned to Ashley. “Maybe we should go.”

  “That’s right,” Desiree said, with a head quirk.

  Gen watched as the couple walked out arm in arm. “Now I’ve lost my appetite.” She put her fork down.

  “Let me have some,” Desiree said. “I had boxed mac and cheese for dinner.”

  “Do you say those things just to hurt me?” How could Desiree eat such garbage when Gen had repeatedly offered to give her free cooking lessons?

  “Hey, I stood up for you. Didn’t I? Even in this ridiculous hat which I was forced to wear tonight.”

  Gen pushed her plate towards Desiree. “I need a drink.”

  “Too bad Em doesn’t serve alcohol.” Desiree picked up a spare fork.

  “We could go to the Tavern.” The fact that she might accidentally on purpose run into Wallace and Joe shouldn’t be an issue.

  “The Tavern? Only hoes go in there. It’s so dark and seedy. Reminds me of one of those old 1970s movies.”

  “Dark might work for you tonight. You could take the hat off and maybe no one would notice.”

  “You’re serious?” Desiree said between bites. “Joe wouldn’t like it. What if he’s still there?”

  “I don’t care what Joe likes or doesn’t like,” Gen said, and realized for the first time in her life she meant it, “If he’s there with Wallace, he’ll just have to deal.”

  They both would.

  Chapter 9

  Desiree was right about the lighting in the Tavern. Not that Genevieve had been in there much, since it was Joe’s place. Joe and ‘the guys’. All his ex-Air Force buddies, even some Army like Scott, and of course, Wallace. Well, it was time to show that what was good for the goose was good for the gander. At least that’s what her Daddy used t
o say. Daddy had always told her she could do anything she set her mind to do. Well, now she wanted to be stupid just like the guys. Stupid and drunk.

  She’d come to the right place.

  Desiree went towards the portion of the bar with the least amount of light, near the back, and found an empty stool. Genevieve sat down next to her.

  The owner and bartender appeared to be drunk. Arnie, she believed that was his name. Instead of serving drinks he was pretending to be a mime, doing ‘man in a box.’ Not very well, Gen thought. She looked around the crowded bar, and didn’t see Joe or Wallace anywhere in sight.

  “What’ll you have?” asked a bartender with a ponytail.

  “A draft beer,” Desiree said, removing her cap and smoothing out her hair.

  Boy. That was purple.

  “What about you?” he asked Gen.

  What a big decision. “Do you have wine?”

  The man looked dumbfounded. “Sure, we have wine, sweetheart. This is wine country. But if you want wine, you might want to go to Giancarlo’s. Here we serve the real drinks.”

  “Like beer?” Desiree asked.

  The man did not look amused with Desiree. “What do you want?”

  “Maybe come back to me. This is a big decision. On the cruise I had a blue drink, what was it called? What I want is a good drink, something that’s not too sweet but will go down smoothly. Something made with the finest ingredients.”

  She had apparently really stumped this man because he stared at her like she was an oddity in a traveling freak show. “I don’t think I can help you.”

  “Why? Is that a weird request?”

  “Just give her a tequila shot and maybe she’ll shut up,” Desiree said. “Plus, we might be able to leave earlier.”

  The man poured from a tequila bottle into a tiny glass. “That’ll be ten dollars.”

  “Ten dollars?” Genevieve shrieked. “That’s outrageous.”

  “Shut up and drink it. I’ll pay.” Desiree slapped down a ten dollar bill.

  “Is this the best liquor? I usually drink wine, but Joe likes tequila.” All right, so she wasn’t a hard drinker and never had been. She figured it was because she’d missed out on college and gone to culinary school instead. In her culinary school days she and her friends would go out and have shots of espresso for fun.