Living With Lies Trilogy (Books 1, 2, and 3 of The Dancing Moon Ranch Series)

by Watters, Patricia

  "They're over there," Grace said, pointing to two bags—one filled with toys from Santa, the other with wrapped gifts. "They're not exactly girl toys," Grace said, "but kids don't know the difference. Sophie should like the clown doll though. I left it unwrapped, from Santa." She stepped back from the tree, and said to Jack, "We're spoiling them. We got way too many toys again this year. Next year we'll have to be a little more sensible."

  "We?" Jack winked at Justine then said to Grace, "Honey, you said that last year, then went on another spending spree again this year." He rested his hand on the base of Grace's neck and stood with her, admiring the tree with the groupings of toys from Santa for each of the three little boys, and the confusion of colorfully wrapped presents piled behind.

  Grace kissed Jack on the cheek, and said, "I love you for putting up with me."

  Jack patted Grace on the fanny, and replied, "A burden I can bear," then kissed her square on the lips. Grace put her arms around Jack's neck and started to kiss him back, when Justine cleared her throat to get their attention. "Before you two forget I'm here and do something X-rated in the middle of the living room, could I talk to you for a few minutes?"

  Grace looked at Justine, concerned. "I'm sorry," she said, pulling her arms from around Jack's neck and turning to Justine. "Are things better tonight?"

  Justine sighed. "Sophie's sleeping, but no, things are bad. Sophie thinks Santa's going to bring her mother in the morning and it's an impossible situation."

  "Sit down," Grace said. "Is this sister-to-sister, or do you want Jack's input too?"

  "This concerns both of you, so you need to be here too, Jack." Justine sat on a chair adjacent to the couch. She hadn't planned on going into this with Jack and Grace on Christmas Eve, but the longer she put it off, the more bonded Brad would be with Sophie, and the more irrelevant she'd be to Brad.

  After Grace and Jack were settled on the couch, Justine said, "I guess you both know Brad has post-traumatic stress from something that happened when he was in Iraq. He wrote a version of it in his book, and the scene he described was what he saw. You read the book, Jack. You know the scene. The memory of what he saw keeps haunting him."

  Jack nodded. "I figured it out when he saw the hook in the stable."

  "Brad puts it out of his mind," Justine said, "but things can trigger a flashback, and when it happens, he starts shaking and can't stop, and his heart starts racing, and if Sophie saw him like that she'd be terrified. I was with him once, and it was very disturbing. He didn't even know who I was when I crawled into bed with him. He thought I was Sophie's mother. He even called out her name, but he needed someone, and I was there. But now he's worried it could happen when Sophie's around. He's just not able to be a father to her."

  Jack looked at her, dubious. "Has Brad actually said that to you?"

  "Well, not in so many words," Justine said, "but we thought maybe the two of you could adopt Sophie. You've always said you wanted six kids, and along with the twins, this would give you five of them, so you'd only have to go through one more pregnancy, and you'd have a girl."

  Grace sat up so she could look directly at Justine, and said, "Brad doesn't need to adopt Sophie out. He needs a mother for her. I'm sure he's considering that now."

  "No," Justine insisted. "He's looking for a home for her. He can't deal with her."

  Grace eyed Justine dubiously. "When Jack made the comment about Brad being there for the duration Brad didn't give any sign he aimed to duck his responsibility, in fact, he seemed resigned to it."

  "That was before," Justine said. "Things have changed."

  "Things like what?" Grace asked.

  There might have been a we before Sophie came, but there is no we now.

  "It's hard to explain," Justine said, knowing her voice sounded frantic, but she was frantic. Brad needed a mother for his daughter, and he wasn't willing to give her a chance, and she wanted Brad, but couldn't have him because of Sophie, and because of a woman who still had a hold on Brad, even from beyond the grave. But Yvette's memory would fade if Brad wasn't reminded of her every day of his life through Sophie.

  Grace pinned her with perceptive eyes, and said. "This isn't about Brad and Sophie, is it Justine? It's about you. You're in love with the man and you can't handle his daughter because you've never been around children and you don't want to be around them, so you're trying to justify it by claiming that Brad can't handle her and finding her a good home."

  "Honey," Jack interjected. "Can I say something here?"

  Grace shrugged. "Sure, if you think you can get through to Justine. She pretty much stays on the same self-centered track most of the time. It's always all about her."

  Jack patted Grace's knee, then said to Justine, "If you think you're in love with the man, you need to accept his daughter. If he's the man I think he is, he's not going to give her up for you. If he's not that man, he's not worth having. You know that, and so do I. But there's also a little girl who lost her mother and her aunt, and if you let her get attached to you, then decide motherhood isn't for you, she'll be rejected again." He fixed his eyes on her and waited.

  Jack was right, Justine knew it. And so was Grace. It was all about her. But she didn't want to lose the only man she'd ever felt the depth of emotion she felt with Brad. She also knew the best thing she could do for him and his daughter would be to walk away from them. Yet, when she was on the floor with Sophie, putting out hazelnuts, and saw the small hand come out and take one, and heard the little giggle, she'd felt something she'd never felt before, an urge to pull the little girl on her lap and hug her, and tickle her tummy, and see her smile, and hear her little laugh again, and maybe look across the room and see Brad smiling too, because the truth was, Brad had no intention of pawning Sophie off on anyone.

  Grace reached out and placed her hand on Justine's arm, and said, "Do you really want to go back to what you left, back to the Sean Elliots, and the life you were leading before, or do you want the love of a good man? You can't have both."

  Justine thought about that. Of course Grace was right. Grace was always right. And Jack too. And she realized she wanted what they had, not a life on a ranch, but to have a man who'd look at her the way Jack looked at Grace, and do the things Jack did with Grace. "I want what's best for Brad, even if it means walking away from him," she said, knowing now it was true.

  Grace squeezed her hand. "Then you've just made the second step towards the rest of your life. It's no longer about Justine Page."

  Justine smiled. It was odd hearing Grace's praise. Grace was good at pointing out her faults, of which Justine knew she had plenty, but praise from Grace had to be earned. "I guess I'd better get back and put this stuff under the tree," she said. "Sophie had me write a note asking Santa to bring her mother back from heaven, and when her mother's not there tomorrow morning, Sophie's going to be devastated, and neither of us will know what to do."

  "Just follow your instincts," Grace said. "You do have maternal instincts in you somewhere. You've just never needed to tap into them. Now you do. You helped Brad get through his ordeal. It's no different with Sophie. Just hold her and let her cry it out. It's part of the grieving process."

  Jack, who'd been listening to the exchange, eyed Grace with concern, clearly not in agreement with her, and said, "I know you mean well, honey, but what Brad needs now is a wife, because his daughter needs permanence." He said nothing more, but Justine had no problem filling in his unspoken words...

  And Justine doesn't do permanence. Justine does men.

  And that was the story of her life. Up till now.

  She only hoped it wasn't too late to change.

  CHAPTER 7

  While holding two bags of toys and presents, Justine braced her shoulder against the door to Brad's cabin and knocked awkwardly. Brad opened the door, hair damp from the shower, chest bare, a pair of sweat pants riding low on his belly.

  "Did Sophie wake up while I was gone?" Justine asked, eyes zigzagging across a muscular
chest and down a solid torso and over a firm belly to a thin line of dark hair that disappeared beneath the waist band of Brad's low-slung pants. She knew exactly where that line ended. She'd followed the course of it at the hot springs when Brad stood in front of her. She'd seen naked men before, and what Brad had wasn't any different, but he was the first man to make her want something elusive when she looked at him there.

  "If you keep staring at me, these sweats won't have enough room for expansion," Brad said. He took the bags from her. "We'd better put this stuff under the tree and get to bed. It's going to be a rough day tomorrow." He started pulling presents out one at a time and placing them around, but not randomly, more like it mattered how they were arranged. Justine knew he'd been married, and assumed he had no children with the wife who had the affair, but after having Sophie dumped on his doorstep, she wondered if there were other love children somewhere. "You ever play Santa before?" she asked.

  "No," Brad replied. "It's a strange feeling." He propped The Cat in the Hat against a wrapped gift, then shifted it slightly so it could be seen.

  Justine eyed him as he stood back and looked at the arrangement, giving it a critical appraisal. It mattered to him how it looked for his daughter. "Strange good or strange bad?"

  Brad propped a small stuffed frog with floppy green legs in front of the book, tipping him slightly so he sat up straight, then took the frog's arms and arranged them in the frog's lap. And Justine knew what Brad was going to say before he said it, which he confirmed, when he replied, "Strange good, like if I get it right, my life will be relevant."

  "And getting it right means finding a mother for Sophie," Justine said.

  Brad nodded. "But before I do that, Sophie has to get used to having a father. Yvette obviously never talked about me." He set another book under the tree, his face troubled.

  "Sophie's only five," Justine said. "Her mother probably didn't want to confuse her with an absentee father. It was easier to say nothing."

  "I suppose," Brad said.

  But Justine knew he wasn't convinced, that it bothered him that Yvette had said nothing about him to Sophie, like he didn't matter. She also found that curious. The woman spent four days in bed with Brad, so he must have meant something to her at the time, but there was also something not right about all of this... Elsa Moroz delivering Sophie without giving Brad prior notice. Her letter to him never arriving. Questions unanswered. But the last thing Brad needed at the moment was to be burdened by speculation.

  "Had you ever thought about having kids?" she asked. She hadn't thought of Brad as a family man, which would have been one less complication if a relationship with him turned into something permanent. She'd never gravitated towards men with kids. She always gravitated toward the kind of men women left to find the kind of men she never was attracted to because they wanted a home and family. Decent, one-woman men like Jack.

  "Yeah, I thought about it," Brad replied, "but coming home from Iraq to find my wife in the process of screwing another man pretty much put an end to that."

  "Then you have another chance to find the right woman," Justine said, and wished she'd be that woman, though she still couldn't adjust to having a child around all the time. Grace's kids were okay for a while, but she never felt an urge to pick them up and hug them like Grace did. With Grace, a child could barely walk past without her reaching out and grabbing him and turning him upside down and blowing bubbles on his tummy, or nibbling on a foot, or tickling a belly. Grace lived for her children, and for Jack. They were her whole life.

  And until now, Justine Page lived for herself. Period.

  "What's your house in San Francisco like?" she asked, realizing she'd never given any thought to where Brad lived. She'd crawled into his bed, and gotten naked with him at the spring, but his everyday life held no interest to her, until now. She didn't even know how old he was.

  "It's a townhouse," Brad replied, placing a pair of blue mittens and a matching hat beside the frog, "an older place. Two stories. Four bedrooms."

  "Is it a neighborhood where Sophie can grow up, with schools in the area and other kids around?" Justine asked, though until now she'd given no thought to how Brad would mesh his life with that of a five-year-old girl, because she'd hoped the whole thing would go away—he'd find a home for Sophie, and things would return to the way they were just before a strange woman holding a child appeared on his doorstep.

  Brad shrugged. "I don't know. I never considered it before. It's just an old established neighborhood with blocks of two-story townhouses."

  "What about parks?" Justine asked. "Are there any around, or other places where you can take Sophie to play? Maybe a community swimming pool?"

  Brad eyed her again, a quizzical look on his face.

  "What are you thinking about?" Justine asked.

  Brad shrugged. "You're asking questions I didn't expect from you."

  Justine felt slightly miffed. "This may come as a surprise to you, but I do think of other things besides who I need to sleep with to get to the next level."

  Brad eyed her with irritation. "Why do you talk like that? It makes you sound like a slut."

  "Some old habits are hard to break," Justine said, "like talking about sex. I'd have sex with you right now, but not with any other man because no one interest me anymore. But I want to have sex with you."

  "You can't change if you tell men you want to have sex with them," Brad said.

  "I'm not telling men," Justine replied. "I'm telling you. You're the exception because you're an exceptional man. You have empathy for others. I've always been self-centered. Sleeping my way to success was self-serving. I justified it by being involved with men who were also self-centered and self-serving, so using them didn't matter because they were also using me, but I have nothing to gain from you, and no reason to sleep with you other than I want to, and you care about others so having sex with you would be different. I'd feel like you cared about me."

  "I do care about you," Brad said, "but you still don't have your head screwed on right so don't talk about having sex with me, and don't think about it."

  "You're thinking about it," Justine said. "And I don't have to tell you how I know."

  "My head isn't screwed on right either," Brad said, "but I'm sure I'm not the first man you've turned on by doing nothing but standing there."

  "All the others had ulterior motives just as I did," Justine said. "From me they'd get sex and organizational skills. For me, they'd feed me, clothe me, give me an apartment and a Jaguar and the promise of escorting me through the glass ceiling, and in return I'd zero in on the competitors and wipe them out. That alone was enough to get those self-absorbed bastards breathing heavy, but I have nothing to offer you."

  "Maybe I see something the others don't," Brad said.

  Justine found his statement puzzling. She knew where she stood with him, now that Sophie was a part of his life—a woman who turned him on but wasn't a candidate for Mother-of-Sophie. Which meant she wasn't a candidate for Mrs. Brad Meecham. "So, what is it you see?"

  "A woman who's looking for love in all the wrong places."

  "You sound like Grace," Justine said. "So where do you suggest I look?" The door was wide open for Brad to tell her what she wanted to hear. But, of course, he wouldn't.

  "I suggest you stop looking completely," Brad said. "Stay out of men's beds, get your head screwed on right and—"

  "Start wearing a bra and Mary Poppins briefs," Justine interjected. "Then will I be a candidate for mother-of-the-year?"

  Brad looked at her long and hard, and said, "Motherhood is not in your nature, Justine. Stick to who you are."

  "That's the problem," Justine said. "I don't know who I am anymore. I'm different with you than when I was in Seattle. I'm even different from the person you found reading your book. When I'm with you I say things I mean, and I tell you things I've never told anyone else. I also want to be more like you. You empathize with people. That's what was happening when I was reading your
book and couldn't get out of your head. At first I thought your mind was twisted. Then I realized it was my mind that was twisted because I didn't get who you were. It made me want to change. I guess when I get right down to it, I want to be more like a lot of people, but trying to implement it is the biggest challenge I've ever faced, and I'll get the bra and Mary Poppins briefs, and stay out of your bed, if you'll help me change."

  Brad walked up to her and curved his index finger beneath her chin and stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb, and said, "Honey, you can get the bra and Mary Poppins briefs and stay out of my bed, but you're the one who has to change, and it has to come from the inside, starting by changing your own self-image. If you like yourself, you'll stop screwing men because they'll only make you feel like shit when they’re done, and you'll stay on the same endless treadmill. Screw men. Get screwed. Feel like shit. Move up the ladder and feel better. Screw men. Get screwed. Feel like shit. It never stops. There's more to you than that. You crawled into my bed when I was out of my mind and saying another woman's name, and you didn't do it for any reason other than I needed you. That's empathy. You have it. You just need to recognize that you have it. And you also have to stop acting like a slut. You're not one, but the world around Justine Page doesn't know it."

  Brad's hand was still on Justine's face, and he looked as if he were about to kiss her, but when he didn't, Justine asked, "Will you kiss me?" All she wanted from Brad right now was a short sweet kiss, the kind of kiss Jack would give Grace because he loved her and felt affection for her. A kiss that meant something.

  Brad stroked her bottom lip with his thumb, and his eyes focused there so Justine knew he was thinking about it, but then he shook his head, and said, "Kissing goes along with staying out of men's beds. It has to mean something."

  "It would to me," she said.

  "No it wouldn't," Brad replied. "I'd be kissing you because you asked me to."

  "But you want to, don't you?" she asked.