Somebody Like You (Starlight Hill Series Book 2) (17 page)

Discreet? Basically, Brooke would take this conversation with her to the grave. “You better believe it. No one will hear it from me.”

“I’ve got loads to think about.” Eileen set her wine glass down. “What about Thanksgiving? You are coming, right?”

While Brooke was grateful for the subject change, Eileen had segued right into another difficult subject.
The Holidays.
Yes, Billy had mentioned it to her, and of course she didn’t want to say no to him. So she’d hemmed and hawed and kissed him until he forgot what he’d asked.

Brooke detested family holiday get-togethers, and then there was Mom. She’d be expecting Brooke to come to the farm since she’d done that every year for the past several. Since she didn’t spend all that much time during the rest of the year with Mom, Brooke gave her
The Holidays
.

“Well, there’s my mother. I told her I’d spend it with her. She expects me.”

“Invite her, too. I have the room.”

“Um— well.” Billy’s family might be large, but they’d started to grow on her. But adding Mom to the mix?

Why not just start a fire and let the whole place burn down to the ground?

What if she talked about her natural shampoo line throughout the entire dinner? What if she saw the mansion Eileen lived in and started talking carbon footprints? Ever since Mom had become Mother Earth she was annoyingly intolerant of people who would have resembled her younger self.

“When Billy first bought me that house, I thought I’d spend a lot more time entertaining. But then Pop started to need me more. Speaking of which,” Eileen said as she rose, “I should go since Scott is hanging out with Pop. If I don’t get home soon who knows what could happen? Last time I left Pop with Scott, he took Pop target shooting.”

At the front door, Eileen, who was a hugger, put her arms around Brooke and gave a little squeeze. “Thank you for this. I feel like I’m a new woman after tonight.”

“You’re welcome, but it’s not my faul— I mean it’s not my doing.”

“Nonsense, if not for you I’d have never considered dating someone younger. Someone like Giancarlo, who still has a bit of pep left in him, if you know what I mean.” She elbowed Brooke. “I think I’m going to enjoy being a Cougar.”

*****

“You can do this.” Brooke stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. No matter how many affirmations she recited to herself, her eyes were telling her she didn’t buy it. The Holidays had arrived, and with them dread had settled into the pit of her stomach and made a picnic there.  Mom would be coming and that was bad enough, but there was every possibility that Eileen had invited Giancarlo.

Brooke hadn’t told Billy. There just hadn’t been time between selecting tablecloth linens for the Grand Opening, taste testing the new November crop (Billy had a natural talent for detecting oak flavors), ordering glassware and carafes. And yes, the menu. A thousand tiny details had been discussed and agreed upon. And even if Billy did seem to sneak out every afternoon for what she suspected was a coaching session at the local high school, she had his attention the majority of the time. So did the vineyard.

Billy walked through her front door at precisely four thirty, just as Brooke had changed into a sweater dress. The man was so punctual it hurt. He no longer knocked on her door, and she no longer knocked on his.

“I’m not ready.” She glanced at him, dressed casually in a button-up shirt and a jacket that for Mom’s sake Brooke hoped was faux leather. No tie, because he hated those. Amazing how well he cleaned up even if he always looked his best in a baseball jersey, cap on backwards. Or wearing nothing at all.

“You look ready.” He opened her refrigerator and helped himself to a glass of juice. Weird how familiar they were becoming with each other, when she hadn’t been that way with anyone since— had she ever felt this relaxed, this connected to any guy?

“I have to wear something cute, but environmentally friendly. Also something that doesn’t look like I paid more than ten dollars for it.”

“I’m a guy, so I’m a bit clueless but how does an outfit look environmentally friendly?”

“It should be something that you can air-dry or hang on a line.”

He cocked his head. “People still do that?”

“People like my mother.” This dress wasn’t going to work. In a minute she would reach for her blue jeans and to hell with everyone. Brooke pulled off her dress and ran into her bedroom. Of course Billy followed because he always did when he saw her removing clothes.

Somewhere in her closet she had a nice pair of slacks. Brooke moved clothes and the hangers made their slappy, snitty noises as they were shoved up against each other. 

Billy came up behind her, drawing his arms around her waist and pulling her back into his chest. When he lowered his head she felt the gravelly feel of his beard, which always tickled.

“I didn’t know your mother would make you feel like this.”

Brooke sighed deeply. “It’s not so much her as it is The Holidays. But they’re so closely intertwined I can’t tell the difference anymore.”

“Why do the holidays make you so nervous?”

Right. She hadn’t talked to him about it, and didn’t want to. Billy wouldn’t understand. In a way he was like Santa. A really hot Santa. “They’ve never been a good time of the year for me. Bad luck, I guess.”

He turned her around in his arms so she faced him. “We’re going to change that this year, aren’t we?”

In that moment, she realized that more than anything she wanted this year to be different. So far the past two months had been some of the best of her life. She had a dream job, lived on a vineyard, and had a guy that made her heart do somersaults just by smiling.

“Okay, Billy.”

“What do you want to wear?” He practically whispered in her ear. It sounded so much like when he asked ‘does that feel good, baby?’ and ‘do you like that?’ that Brooke’s spine tingled.

“I want to wear my boots, but those are leather which means a cow died for them, and also they cost me an insane amount of money.”

“Is the price tag still on them?”

“Don’t be silly.”

“Wear them. And as much as I’d like to see you in nothing but your boots, let’s wait until later for that. What will you wear with the boots?”

She turned around to meet his smile. He was right. She was going to wear what she wanted.  Brooke settled on her little black dress with matching black knee-high boots. 

They picked up Mom, who didn’t make a single comment about Billy’s convertible. Probably because it was a hybrid.

Instead she made light conversation with Billy about baseball and the World Series. Brooke didn’t even know Mom knew anything about baseball, much less the actual name of the team that won it. Naturally the conversation changed as they pulled up to Eileen’s home. ‘Home’ wasn’t quite the word. Mansion on steroids more like it.

“It must cost a small fortune to water this lawn and keep it this green,” Mom said.

“Mom, please,” Brooke hissed when Billy got out of the car.

“I’m only stating the obvious,” Mom said and then turned to Billy when he opened the door for her, “We use some wonderful new irrigation methods at the farm. Maybe you’d be interested.”

If he was surprised to discuss irrigation systems before Thanksgiving dinner, he gave no indication. “I’d love to hear it sometime, Melinda.”

Sure he would, because that’s what they’d all like to do tonight. Talk irrigation systems. They had a great one at the vineyard, and neither one of them could talk about it for long without their eyes glazing over.

Eileen met them at the door, and the smells of turkey and stuffing wafted out to greet them. “Come in. So nice to see you, Melinda. How’s the farm? Wallace is already here. We’re just waiting for Scott. And don’t worry, Billy, we have plenty of real turkey and mashed potatoes because I do realize some people have a death wish.”

“Thanks, Ma. You know me. Life on the edge.”  Billy smiled.

Brooke followed Mom inside, feeling suddenly nervous. As though he might realize it, she felt Billy put his hand on the small of her back and guide her inside.

If ever there were a home that split the line between extravagant and homey, Eileen’s fit the bill.

Rich and expensive-looking tapestries stood in stark contrast to family photos everywhere —from Billy pitching at a Sliders game to Scott in his Army fatigues. A photo of Wallace in front of a large cabin, and dozens of photos of Pop with the boys. Very few of Eileen, but one photo of her sitting like the Queen Bee between her three boys. Billy looked to be about thirteen in that photo. That young face devilish and happy, the way she remembered him. He always seemed to be smiling.

Eileen led them into the large and open family room with floor to ceiling windows, and Brooke’s breath hitched when she saw Giancarlo alone in the corner.

“What’s Giancarlo doing here?” Billy asked no one in particular.

Eileen wrung her hands together. “Ah, well, I thought you might like to have someone in the business. Good conversation.”

“Hey, thanks Mom. Great idea. Isn’t it, Brooke?” Billy’s arm lingered around her waist.

“Great.” Brooke could use a few minutes alone with Giancarlo, but this was not the time or the place. Too late anyway, as Billy walked right over to Giancarlo and began to chat.

Eileen pulled Brooke to the side. “You have to help me get rid of him.”

“Get rid of him? But why?” If anything, this was an issue for Brooke to worry about. Eileen had done nothing wrong, unless you counted poor impulse control but Brooke wasn’t in any position to judge.

“The fool has come up with the most outlandish idea. He wants to marry me.”

Brooke nearly choked on her own spit. “M-m-marry you?”

Eileen leaned in closer to whisper. “He said it’s the honorable thing to do, and that he’s afraid he’s disrespected me.”

Brooke covered her mouth to avoid cussing. This was turning out to be far worse than she could have anticipated. Ever the gentleman, Giancarlo would now want make an honest woman out of Eileen. If only someone would drag the gentle Italian into the twenty-first century.

“Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. I believe we can count on him to be discreet, so no need to worry on that account. He’ll keep his mouth shut. Let me talk to him.”

“Thank you. I can’t deal with a lovesick gentleman caller, although it is kind of nice. But I have potatoes to whip and butter to melt. A turkey to baste. Marriage is not part of tonight’s agenda.” Eileen recited the items off while she threw occasional lustful glances in Giancarlo’s direction.

Brooke took a deep breath and flew into crisis mode. She caught sight of Mom, under Pop’s spell. Laughing, even. That seemed under control for now.

She moved to join Billy, still talking to Giancarlo, less that situation veer wildly off course. Surely Giancarlo would not think to confide in Eileen’s son, nor ask for her hand in marriage. No, that would be highly irregular.

Brooke sidled up next to Billy, and he threaded his fingers through hers without missing a beat. It didn’t take two seconds to realize the men were talking grapes. Thank heavens for that. She gazed up at Billy, amazed at how much he’d learned in the past two months.   

The past few late nights they’d spent in front of his fireplace tasting different vintages— encouraging him to develop a sophisticated palate— they were beginning to make a difference.

“Who’s carving this year?” Wallace asked. “I forget.”

“I probably should,” Giancarlo said and both Wallace and Billy stared at Giancarlo like he’d just said the world was flat.

Brooke swallowed.

The men went on as if Giancarlo had been overcome by a spell.

“Odd years it’s Scott’s turn, and even years Wallace and I toss a coin,” Billy explained to Brooke.

“Guess it’s coin tossing time,” Wallace said, pulling a quarter out of his pocket. “Heads or tails?”

Brooke pulled Giancarlo aside while the coin tossing was going on. “How’ve you been?’

Giancarlo pulled out a perfectly folded handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. “I’m a little nervous.”

Brooke played dumb. “Oh yeah? Why?”

Giancarlo leaned in. “Between you and me, I’ve proposed to Eileen.”

“So soon?”

“When its right you know. I’ve waited a long time to find a woman good enough to replace my blessed late wife, but it’s finally time.”

“Did she say yes?” Brooke turned to see Billy had won the coin toss. Some amount of ribbing went on between the brothers.

“Well, not exactly. She looked a little bit surprised and then she said she had to beat the potatoes.”

Brooke cleared her throat. “I’m sure she didn’t expect it. Maybe you should take it slower. You had one date.”

“Three dates now, actually. But we’re very compatible, believe me. And what’s done is done. It’s my fault, really.”

Brooke didn’t want to go there, but maybe speaking in euphemisms might work. “Nothing is done. You don’t have to buy the cow because you had some steak. Do you get me?”

He smiled and narrowed his eyes. “Why are you talking about cows?”