Free Living With Lies Trilogy (Books 1, 2, and 3 of The Dancing Moon Ranch Series) by Patricia Watters Page B

wondered, and made a promise to herself to find out.
    Hearing nothing inside, she followed the wrap-around porch to the back of the house and saw, a little distance from the house, Jack crouched inside an area enclosed by an iron picket fence, which appeared from where she stood to be a private cemetery. Jack's father would be buried there. She didn't call to Jack, but waited. After a few more minutes, he stood and let himself out through a small iron gate, then started toward the house. She had a few seconds to watch before he looked up and saw her. His face was sad, and she was tempted to ask what was wrong. Then the sadness turned to concern as he approached, and said, "Is everything okay?"
    "Yes," Grace replied, "I was shack happy and had to get out."
    "Go back to the lodge," Jack said, while stepping onto the porch. "I'll come fix you lunch."
    "I want to see your house," Grace replied, as she headed for front of the house.
    "Not now. It's a mess," Jack replied.
    "I know," Grace said. "I looked in the window, but I want to see how the father of my unborn son lives."
    "It'll be different when he's here."
    "I'm sure it will be, but I'd like to get an idea of what it's like now," Grace said, moving to stand at the front door.
    "Just don't form any opinions," Jack said, then opened the front door for her to enter.
    As she stood looking around, Grace felt the sting of tears. The place was barren, devoid of warmth. And love. She had an urge to spend the day scrubbing floors and arranging furniture.
    "It's just a place to hang my hat," Jack said, as if in apology.
    "It's also where you plan to house our son when he stays with you," Grace pointed out. "You can't bring a baby here, Jack. It's unsanitary. It doesn't look like you've cleaned in months."
    "Look, I'll get the place cleaned in time," Jack said. "I've been busy. I'll be hiring a cleaning woman to come in once a week. One bedroom's already a nursery."
    Grace eyed him with uncertainty. "I want to see it." Judging from the rest of the house, she couldn't imagine a room suitable for a baby.
    "It's just baby furniture right now," Jack said.
    Grace followed Jack down a hallway to a bedroom. Although bare of curtains, the room contained a crib, a changing table, a small dresser, a rocker, and a low stool. The furniture looked used, so she assumed Jack picked it up at a garage sale. "It's okay but you need to sponge it all off with disinfectant before you bring the baby here," she said, finding it odd that Jack hadn't bought new furniture, obsessive as he was about his unborn son.
    "It'll be ready by the time he's here," Jack replied.
    Grace sat in the rocker, and said, while rocking slowly, "You'll have to hire someone to look after him when he's here. You can't do it and run the ranch and I doubt Flo would be up to looking after a newborn."
    Jack stood watching her, an odd expression on his face she didn't try to make sense of. Jack was a complex man. Trying to interpret his state of mind from his facial expressions would defy the best psychologist. "You do intend to hire someone, don't you?" she asked, when he didn't reply.
    "I've got it worked out," Jack said. "We'll sell your house and I'll build you one here, and our son—"
    "He needs a name," Grace cut in. "We can't keep calling him our son, or the boy, or the baby. I don't think of him as Marc anymore, and you don't want to name him after you, for whatever reason, even though I think Jack junior would be nice."
    "I'll pick up a book of names," Jack said. "For now, I'll clean the back bedroom and move you in there. That way you'll be here when you go into labor, and after he's born, I can help you when he wakes at night to be fed."
    Grace eyed Jack with irritation. "And after my house is built? Do you plan to install an intercom so you can come whenever I call?" she said, with an edge of sarcasm. But she was at wits end with Jack constantly micromanaging her life.
    "I already planned to do that," Jack said.
    "You just