Heatherly Bell's Blog, page 13

Somebody Like You Snippet

Billy Turlock. Here? Now? Why?

It made no sense at all. Not that Brooke kept up with the sports page, but wasn’t superstar Sliders pitcher hometown hero Billy supposed to be busy fielding the million dollar offers? Somewhere up in Marin County where the streets might as well be paved in platinum? Had he retired, and gone into the real estate business? Why hadn’t anyone told her?

“What are you doing here?” Brooke squeaked out. Damn Billy. He’d always made her so nervous with his easy smile, which didn’t always make it up to his green eyes. Those eyes were now supposed to be the smiling, uber confident eyes of a multi-millionaire. Get with it, Billy, and get the right eyes already.

It was those eyes, frankly, that had haunted her dreams from their days together at Starlight High School. Where he’d been the jock and she’d been— definitely not a jock.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” He cracked a smile.

“I heard the bank hired a realtor.” She jutted her chin the direction of the For Sale sign. “I’ve been working with Ted at the bank. I’m here to make an offer on this vineyard.”

That seemed to bother Billy, somehow. He looked at the ground and rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s not going to be possible.”

“Wow, well, you need to learn a little something about sales. That’s not a good attitude to take with a repossessed property in need of some TLC.”

“Huh?” Billy asked.

Now that was more like it, and what she expected from a jock. Huh? What did you say? Where’s the ball? She smiled, feeling the confidence kick in. These were no longer the hormone driven days of adolescence, even if Billy did bring some of the memories back to the surface by just— standing there.

She set her helmet on the seat of her Harley, and walked towards the house. “It’s your lucky day. I’ve been running the Serrano winery for the past three years. Before that, the Guglielmo winery. And before that, I was taught about everything from the grape to the bottle by my mentor, Anthony DeLuca. What this means to you is that I know the value of land. And I know my grapes, too.”

“You do?” He gave her one his drop-dead gorgeous smiles.

Good thing it had no effect on her, and that he appeared to be following right along.  “So don’t try to stiff me. I know exactly what this land is worth, but you might have to budge a little on the price. This place needs work.”

“Oh, boy.” Billy ran a hand down his face.

Good. He seemed to catch her drift quickly. Then again, Billy had been one of the few athletes at Starlight High, home of the Panthers, to make the honor roll. She had him where she wanted him.  “I should take a look at the vines, to be fair in my offer.”

“But —” Billy began.

Uh-uh buddy, no buts. “I’m sorry. Where are my manners? It’s good to see you again, buddy.” She held out her hand.

“You too, Brooke,” Billy said, holding her hand and locking eyes with her for a beat too long for her comfort level.

Well, that wouldn’t work on her. She was a savvy business woman and not interested in long-haired jocks with facial hair— Billy still wore his dark brown hair to his neckline, and now he had a mustache and beard. Sure, he had a hot body, all big brawny arms, long legs and flat stomach. But he was definitely not her type.

“Hmmm,” she said, pulling her hand away because he still hadn’t let go of it.

“Really good to see you.”  He looked like he meant it too, taking a little tour of her face and having the decency to remember where her eyes were located. “It’s been way too long. How’ve you been?”

“Well, you know I went to Chicago State.”

“Yeah, I do.” His smiled waned a bit.

“And I came back home right after college.” She took a few steps toward the vineyard, and out of the corner of her eye saw a couple of figures pressed up against the wide-paned window of the house. “Who’s that? You have other buyers here?”

No sooner had she looked in their direction than the two men turned away from the window like they’d been caught in the middle of some kind of lewd and lascivious act.

Billy scowled in their direction. “You remember Wallace and Scott?”

“You brought your brothers with you? The real estate business isn’t like baseball. You don’t need to bring along your entourage everywhere you go.”  She proceeded to march past him on her way to the vineyard.

“Brooke, wait a minute,” he reached for her elbow as she passed him.  Her stupid elbow remembered his touch, as the tingle spread right down into her southern hemisphere.  “You don’t understand.”

Oh, but she did. She understood men like Billy Turlock far too well. Men who had everything handed over to them either because of their good looks, connections, or talent. Billy had all three. Not to mention a fast ball that was legend around here. His face plastered all over town. His retired jersey number at the high school, and trophies that probably still lined the athletic department.  Girls had always fawned all over him, and that had probably not changed much.

Once, she’d thought they were friends. But she’d turned out to be wrong about that.

The last she’d read about him in one of the gossip rags was a year ago when he’d been dating some gorgeous and towering blonde actress. “All right, I’ll play. What is it I don’t understand?”

He looked at the ground for a second, then his eyes met hers. “I’m not the real estate agent. I own this vineyard.”

The words hit her hard. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well, believe it. I’m the proud owner of a fixer-upper.” He didn’t look particularly joyous about it, somehow.

No, this couldn’t be happening. She’d talked to the bank manager about a loan. She’d crunched the numbers, done her due diligence. Made two or three lists of pros and cons. It looked promising. “But I was going to buy this place. I even talked to the bank manager.”

“Yeah. I got that idea. And I’m sorry.”

“What do you want with a vineyard? Have you lost your mind? What happened to baseball, and your contract with the Sliders?”

He rocked back on his heels. “I’m betting you don’t read the sports section.”

“Good guess, genius. Did you get caught somewhere with your pants hanging down? Did they suspend you?” Maybe it was unfair to lump Billy into that category but it was all she knew about these athletes that believed they were God’s gift to the world at large, and the female population in particular.

Billy scowled. “I’m retired. My shoulder gave out on me.”

A strange thing happened then— Brooke thought she caught something in his eyes that looked strangely— humbled.  “Oh.”

“Back in Starlight Hill now, with the rest of the family.” He waved in the direction of the picture window where Wallace and Scott had gathered again. Presumably to watch the show, and the fireworks when she found out the news.

She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. “So you’re back in town, but why buy a vineyard? Why not open up a sports bar?”

“It’s for my grandfather. It’s always been his dream to own a vineyard. A family business. So I bought it for him.”

“You bought your grandfather a vineyard?” Brooke managed to say. So typical of athletes, throwing their wealth around.

“Yep.”

“Next time buy him a card. It gets the point across with a lot less fanfare. But maybe you like the fanfare. This place is going to be a lot of work. Good luck to you.” She turned to walk back towards her Harley. Another opportunity snatched out from under her, but no point in crying about it. Crying was for girls.

“Wait,” Billy said from behind her.

This was where she was supposed to stop and turn around because when men like Billy Turlock said sexy single words like ‘wait’ and ‘stay’ women were to melt in their tracks. Then turn around and ask what Master wanted. So of course Brooke kept walking. She strapped on her helmet only to find him at her elbow.

“Nice bike.” Now he admired her baby, or in other words, tried to get on her good side.

“Thanks,” she said, mounting it. And then because she did feel pretty mean at the moment, she made a show of squirming and wriggling into the seat, bucking and gyrating a little bit. She licked her lips seductively (which she hoped he could see through the helmet) and gazed into his eyes.

He didn’t say a word, and this time he wasn’t smiling.

Brooke started her bike and roared off, leaving Billy ‘I’m-the-sexiest-man-alive-and-you-know-it’ Turlock in the dust.

Life in a Small Town

I ran in to my local Safeway to get a prime rib roast for our NY Eve celebration tonight, and I ran into three people that I know personally (and one of them was my son, whom I know fairly well). That’s life in a small-ish town. I add the “ish” because my town isn’t as small as you might think when considering small-town life. The most recent census sign reads “33,234” people. We’re not talking small like Twain Harte, one of my favorite little picturesque gold country towns, pop. 2,000.

The first person I ran into today was someone I hadn’t seen in about 7 years. No kidding. She’s the ex-wife of my old boss. So it could have been awkward but it wasn’t. We actually embraced in the deli aisle.

“I’m a grandmother! Chelsea had a baby girl! Here, let me show you.” My friend started fiddling on her smart phone which is embarrassing for anyone in our age bracket.

We try. We try really hard to embrace technology and all its wonders. And then we can’t find the photos and we’re scrolling and scrolling. That’s when we usually ask one of our children for help. Her 14-year-old daughter was with her, fortunately, so I got to see photos of her grand baby, another December baby.

“I’m so thrilled to be a grandmother! I’m babysitting him tonight! How about you? Any grandchildren yet?”

I nearly choked on my own spit. “Oh no! No, not yet.” And then realizing I probably look a little too horrified, I recover. “But you know, I can’t wait.” (I most certainly can.)

A few minutes later I ran into the stepmother of one of my youngest son’s old classmates. We also hugged (in the coffee aisle).

“How’s Wilson? I see those photos you put on Facebook and I can’t believe how grown-up he looks.” I asked her.

“Yep, he’s sure changed. He’s doing great. But he’s kind of a snot.”

Uh-huh. At this point I decide I’ve had enough socializing for one shopping trip, and say goodbye and head for the cashiers. But this is not the end, because my earlier friend spies me a few aisles down. She’s in line herself  to pay – and she’s telling me from several feet away about plans tonight with her grandbaby. How everyone is going to want a turn holding him, and he’ll probably sleep the entire time anyway.

She keeps going and a large man literally steps between us so that I can’t see her for a few seconds. Not to be outdone, she steps around the man and continues to tell me about her grandbaby. This is one proud grandmother.

As I leave, I see my oldest son at the bank teller machine and poke his back. “Hey.”

“We’re going hiking,” he tells me. “So if we’re not back by dark, it probably means one of us is sawing our arm off.”

Children. They know just what to say, don’t they?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Somebody Like You

Somebody Like You is book two in the Starlight Hill series. It’s currently only available on Amazon Kindle.