A Little White Lie

by Mackenzie McKade

  Worried expressions flashed across both boys’ faces as they halted in their tracks. When she flipped over on her back laughing, the boys joined her.

  Harrison cautiously offered her the fish. “Touch ’em. He don’t bite.”

  She pushed into a sitting position. “Oh here.” She grabbed the fish. Her lips thinned into a straight line. “Eewww.” She wrinkled her nose. “Kind of slimy, isn’t it?” When the fish started to wiggle, she nearly dropped it, but held on tight. “Now what?”

  The boys glanced at each other, clearly unsure of what to say next.

  “How ’bout we put the fish back into the water and grab our poles. One fish does not make a supper,” JD informed them. He extended a hand and assisted her to her feet.

  She went rigid. Her brows rose. “Supper?”

  In the sunlight her eyes looked like gold, sparkling. He couldn’t help himself. He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers.

  “Eewww,” Chucky groaned.

  As Harrison secured the fish back in the water, he said, “We eat what we catch and yours is a big one.” He grinned ear to ear, picking up his fishing pole.

  She started to brush her hands down her jeans and then stopped. “He’s kidding. Right?” A sniff of her hands and she cringed.

  “It’s the law of the land,” Clifford slung over a shoulder. Before JD could explain, Clifford’s pole bent. “I got one.”

  She narrowed her sight on JD.

  “Don’t look at me in that tone of voice.” He chuckled. “Harrison’s mother prepares what we catch. She’s a damn good cook. You won’t want to miss her hush puppies.”

  “JD.” The growl in her voice as she said his name tickled the shit out of him.

  He rubbed his palms up and down her arms. “Trust me. You’ll have fun. Now let’s get your pole baited.”

  Time flew by so quickly. The sun had moved to the west and already begun its descent. It had been a good fishing day and an even better opportunity to see the real Stella. She was comfortable in the wide-open spaces, especially with children. Nothing like what he expected. Between the six of them they had caught seven rainbow trout, three brown trout, four walleye, three smallmouth bass and five mountain whitefish. She had snagged five out of twenty-two fish. Yet when it came to cleaning them she had bowed out, offering to help Trevor pack the picnic basket.

  As JD cleaned the last fish, the three youngest boys gravitated toward her. Clifford tossed them a disconcerted look. The boy’s mother had passed away two years ago last fall—breast cancer. He watched Stella gently wipe Harrison’s nose before she ran her fingers through Trevor’s hair as they headed for the horses.

  Cleaning his knife in the flowing water, JD looked up. “Missing your mom?”

  “Sometimes,” Clifford mumbled. “She’s pretty.”

  Flashes of the boy’s dark-haired mother popped into JD’s head. “Yes. Your mother was very attractive.”

  “No. Yeah. I mean her.” The boy threw a nod toward Stella. “She your girlfriend?”

  JD paused. What did he call someone who’d drifted in only to soon drift out of his life? Stella would be leaving after his grandfather’s meeting. “Just a friend.”

  “But you like her?”

  “Yes, I do,” he answered without hesitating. In fact, he liked everything about her. His knife closed with a snap before he pocketed it in his jeans. He pushed to his feet and started to move. “Best be getting back.” Stopping next to Clifford, he ruffled the boy’s hair. “You know the womenfolk hate for us to be late.” With his arm around Clifford’s shoulder they walked toward the horses. The other three boys had already mounted their ride. “Ready?” he asked Stella.

  She nodded.

  As he assisted her atop her horse she leaned down. Her full lips tempted him, but he restrained from closing the distance between them. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “For what?” He gave the cinch on her saddle a tug to ensure it was tight.

  Her smile sparkled. “Today. I really enjoyed myself.”

  He stroked her leg, remembering how slender and soft it felt against his skin. “My pleasure.” His body heated with the memory. “Sorry about dinner, but the boys expect it.” Usually so did he, but tonight he would rather be locked in Stella’s arms.

  “Of course. I understand.” There was no resentment in her tone or expression. She spoke the truth, which made him like her even more. He needed a woman who could roll with the punches, not keep a schedule and expect him to abide by it.

  He reached for the reins of his buckskin, placed the toe of his boot in the stirrup and swung his leg over, taking a seat upon the saddle. “Will you join us?”

  “Sure. Why not.” She nudged her horse with her heels and the gelding trotted off.

  Clifford hung back with him as the other three boys rode alongside Stella. They were full of questions about her and where she lived.

  “Are there lots of bad guys in New York?” Trevor asked, adding, “Have you ever seen Spider-Man?”

  Clifford shook his head. “What a jerk.”

  JD quieted him with a “Shhh.”

  “I guess New York has its share of bad guys,” she answered.

  Chucky gave his pony an extra kick to stay up with the rest. “What about Spider-Man?”

  Sun glistened off her silky hair. “Spider-Man, no, but I did see someone who looked a lot like Clark Kent.”

  “Superman?” JD didn’t miss the awe in Trevor’s small voice.

  “I can’t really say it was Superman, but he wore glasses and had a notebook and pen in his hands.”

  “That’s so cool,” Chucky cooed.

  The chatter continued, only stopping when they reached the truck and horse trailer. Several of his ranch hands had returned to where he and Stella had met them earlier that morning. Trevor jumped into his father’s arms, already spinning tales about the fish he’d caught, while the other boys headed for her rental car instead of the crew-cab pickup pulling the horse trailer.

  JD shot them a frown. “You boys are riding with your dads.”

  “We’re riding with you. Stella said so,” Chucky informed him with a huge grin.

  He shot her a glance. “She did, did she?”

  So much for spending a little time alone with her before dinner. Still, he had the night.

  Chapter Four

  From where Stella sat on a picnic bench, she glanced around at the large gathering. It looked like people from around the county had been invited to join in the fish fry. Almost every person had a bowl or plate of food to contribute to the barbeque. Of course, it was more like a down-home get together. Simple. Warm. So unlike the soirées she attended in New York where everyone put on the ritz to impress.

  She continued to tear lettuce into smaller pieces and toss them into a bowl. “I don’t think we caught enough fish.”

  Hazel, Harrison’s mother, a young blonde, began to slice a tomato. “There’s always plenty. Throughout the week the men go fishing after work. I freeze their catch and then thaw what I think we’ll need.”

  “Good planning,” Stella acknowledged.

  The silence between them stretched, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. She watched in awe as everyone pitched in to assist. There was laughter and chatter; even the children seemed excited, helping wherever they could. The smell of fish cooking on an open flame made her stomach growl.

  Placing the sliced tomatoes in the bowl, Hazel glanced at her. “How long have you known JD?” The woman’s question came out of left field.

  “Actually, I met him last night…” Stella slid her gaze toward the woman, “…at the Rusty Nail.”

  Hazel’s greenish-brown eyes widened. “Really?” Her voice warbled. “Wow.” A sweet smile touched her lips. “You must have made some impression. JD doesn’t take any of his women fishing with the boys or for that matter to our barbeque.”

  Women? Heat rushed up her neck, flaring across her cheeks. Her mouth tightened.

  Hazel placed her palm o
ver Stella’s hand. “I’m sorry. I’ve embarrassed you.”

  “No. Of course not.” Truth was she wasn’t embarrassed. For a moment jealousy had stung her, which was irrational and plain stupid. After Tuesday she’d be gone. “I’m here on business, just passing through.”

  Hazel’s blonde ponytail bobbed. “Too bad.” She paused. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.” Sincerity rang in her voice. “I’d better check the fish.” As she hurried toward the grill, Harrison flew into her arms. Mother and son looked so happy. When Jerry, Harrison’s father, joined them, they looked like the perfect little family.

  From somewhere nearby she heard the gentle melody of a guitar and then someone began to sing. A hand settled on her shoulder and squeezed. When she glanced up she peered into JD’s soft blue eyes.

  He bent down and gave her tender kiss on the cheek. “Everything okay?”

  “Great,” she lied. Everything wasn’t okay. For the first time she was seeing life in a whole different way, friends and family spending time together. Enjoying and caring about others throughout the year instead of only meeting up on holidays and vacations and then going their separate ways.

  She swallowed hard, fighting a tear that threatened to emerge.

  “Will you be okay here for a little longer? It’s my turn to crank the ice cream.” The boyish grin he gave her tightened her chest. The man was gorgeous.

  “Sure.” She’d just wallow in her own self-pity a tad longer.

  He bent down and this time he kissed her passionately, a caress that made her drop the lettuce she held. Gently she cupped his warm cheek, drinking from his lips.

  When they parted all eyes were pinned on them. “Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” He licked his lips as if tasting her again. Devilment danced across his face. “I can’t wait for tonight.”

  She inhaled his spicy, masculine scent. “Neither can I.” Even now her body was heating with desire, her nipples pebbling against the short-sleeve western shirt she wore.

  With a wink he was gone, disappearing amongst the men and children.

  Was that man for real? She sighed longingly. For lack of a better word, JD was perfect. Her thoughts were interrupted when someone cleared his throat and said, “What a surprise to see you here, Miss Sinclair.”

  No. The surprise was all hers. When she looked up, before her stood Mr. Toliver. “Sir.” She started to rise, but he brushed her off with a hand.

  He took a seat across from her and he didn’t look happy. “I see that you’ve met my grandson.”

  “Grandson?”

  He must have read her confusion because he said, “Hmmm. Could it be you don’t know?”

  A burst of uneasy laughter greeted his question. “I’m afraid I’m at a loss, Mr. Toliver. What exactly is it I’m supposed to know?”

  “Jonathan. Oh. Yes. You probably know him as JD.”

  Her jaw dropped. “JD? Jonathan David,” she whispered more to herself. A chill clawed up her spine. She turned to see the subject of their conversation laughing as he cranked the handle of an old ice cream maker. “But he said his last name was Foster.”

  “It is. His mother is my daughter.”

  “Oh God.” She had screwed her client’s grandson. Did Toliver think she was after his account through JD?

  He reached out and patted her trembling hand. “It’s all good. You didn’t know and evidently he wasn’t forthright.”

  A wave of anger rose. No shit. JD had forgotten that one little detail. Anger turned to hurt. Had he been playing her all along? He knew where her clothes had come from. He probably even knew who she was.

  Still, she didn’t like the cunning glint in the old man’s eyes. He narrowed them on her. “How much do you want my business?”

  “Excuse me?” Now he wanted to talk business?

  “I’ll make you a deal.” His tone dropped as he leaned across the table.

  Unease skittered across her shoulders. She pushed the bowl aside. This couldn’t be good.

  “I’ve been trying to get Jonathan to take over the business, but he keeps refusing.” He glanced at his grandson as he eased back and then pushed to his feet. “Get him to take the reins.”

  “But—”

  “Clearly the boy is infatuated with you. Get him to agree to run the company and the account is yours.” He tipped his hat. “I’m counting on you.”

  In disbelief she watched Toliver move slowly through the crowd, making his way toward the parking lot. The sonofabitch wasn’t staying to watch? Of course, it made sense. How could she seduce his grandson in his presence?

  Stella couldn’t win in this situation. She started to tear at the lettuce with a vengeance. If she did nothing, she’d lose the account. If she convinced JD to accept his family obligation, then when he discovered her betrayal she might lose the account and maybe the man too. Either way, it sucked.

  “Got something against that lettuce?” Thumbs tucked into his jeans pockets, Clifford tossed his head, sending his black mane out of his eyes. He stared at her with a cocky grin.

  She looked down at the bowl and shredded lettuce, and then back at him. “No.” She forced a smile as she pushed the bowl away. “Guess that’s good enough.”

  “I’d say it is.” He chuckled. “Hazel said to bring it on over to the food table.”

  As Stella stood and reached for the bowl, she turned to see Clifford watching her. “Are you still angry that I crashed your fishing trip?”

  Color dotted his cheeks. “Nah. You’re okay,” he paused adding, “for a girl.”

  “Thank you.” She walked beside him. “Where’s your mother and father?”

  “Dad’s working late and my ma died a couple years ago.” He hung his head and kicked at a stone lying in the grass.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  He shrugged. When he looked up at her again she saw pain swimming in his eyes. She hung her free arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. She was surprised he didn’t move away from her. Instead, he leaned into her.

  “I like the way you smell,” he said quietly.

  “Uh.” She slowly withdrew her arm, feeling a little awkward as she placed the bowl on the table laden with potato and macaroni salads, breads and cakes, casseroles and an array of other delicious-looking food. “Thank you.”

  “You and JD have a thang?” Stella was surprised at the boy’s question.

  “Thang?” She couldn’t help laughing. “No. I’m just here on business.” She couldn’t believe the mess she was in. Then there was the fact that JD hadn’t been honest with her. He knew damn well why she was here and didn’t say a thing. Maybe it was just a fling to him. For some reason that hurt more than she wanted to admit. Yet both had known their relationship wasn’t going anywhere when they started.

  “You okay?” Clifford asked.

  “Yes. I’m peachy.” She couldn’t help the sarcasm or the sad revelation that people were the same no matter what part of the country they lived in. Everyone lied.

  “My turn.” Harrison crowded JD out of the way, eager to take over the task of churning the ice cream.

  JD tousled the boy’s hair before stepping aside. “Remember, we eat dinner before dessert.”

  He scanned the area for Stella, smiling when he found her talking to Clifford. His steps hastened toward the woman and child. Easing up next to her, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Miss me?” Strangely he had missed her touch, her sweet kiss. He brushed his lips across hers.

  Her expression appeared wary or perhaps she was just tired. They hadn’t had much sleep the night before. “Of course.”

  He settled his chin atop her head. “Thought I’d better get over here before this young hoodlum stole my girl.”

  Color spread across Clifford’s cheeks. “Yeah. Right.” Clearly uncomfortable, he changed the subject. “Hazel says it’s chow time.”

  “Good. I’m hungry.” His tone dropped an octave. “For you,” he murmured in her ear.

  She shot
an uneasy glance toward Clifford, who was busy dishing a big scoop of potato salad on a paper plate. She squirmed out of JD’s arms, staring quietly at him for a moment. The pause between them was uncomfortable.

  “Uh. Me too.” Something in her response lacked the excitement he’d been looking for.

  Slipping his finger beneath her chin, he raised her gaze to meet his. “Did Clifford say something to upset you?”

  Her tongue slid nervously between her lips. “No. He’s a lovely boy.”

  JD could detect a lie when he heard one, but if she didn’t want to share what was disturbing her, then he had no right to meddle. “Hungry?”

  “A little.”

  He grabbed her hand, leading her toward the beginning of the table where the paper plates, napkins and silverware lay. “You’ve got to try Hazel’s hush puppies.” They were his favorite. He loved a woman who could cook. Watching Stella as she began to take small helpings from various plates of food, he wondered if she cooked or if her life was one of parties and dining out. A plate of fried fish pulled his attention to his stomach, which released a rumble.

  Plate loaded down with a variety of cold and hot foods, he followed Stella to an empty picnic table. Before he could scoot in beside her, they were bombarded by their little fishing buddies. Clifford sat on her right, while Harrison slipped beneath JD’s arm and sat to the left of her. The cutest grin spread across her face as she looked up at him.

  He shook his head and took a seat.

  “So what does the Statue of Liberty look like?” Chucky asked.

  “Duh.” Harrison rolled his eyes. “The same as it does on TV.”

  Stella ignored Harrison. “Did you know the Statue of Liberty was a gift of international friendship from the people of France to the people of the United States? It’s a universal symbol of freedom and democracy.”

  Chewing on a piece of bread, Chucky said, “Really?”

  As they chattered on, JD watched how comfortable she appeared with the children, answering each of their questions while inserting bits of history and stats. Each boy stared at her, intrigued as she spoke of Ellis Island and the hardships of the immigrants who arrived so many years ago.