Never Been Ready (15 page)

I took one look at Declan, and he instantly smiled.

"Doughnuts?" he asked.

This is a smart, smart man.

We bought an entire dozen and two steamy cups of cider. Along with our lifetime supply of doughnuts, the grandfatherly man at the register gave us a saw and directions to all the various types of trees before telling us to have fun. We headed out the door, and Declan looked at me and then looked down at the saw.

"That dude just handed me a huge-ass saw and just sent us on our merry way!"

I just laughed. He really was a city boy.

We headed toward the firs first. I liked the way they looked better than the spruces, and I thought they would hold ornaments better —at least, that was what I told Declan.

My real reason? Clare's family had always had a fir, and I'd known if I ever had a tree of my own, I wanted one that reminded me of the evenings I'd spent at their house while growing up.

We huddled in our coats with our apple doughnuts from heaven and our cups of cider as we weaved through the trees. I lost count of the number of doughnuts I'd shoved into my mouth after the fourth or fifth one. Between the two of us, we polished them all off in less than fifteen minutes. In our defense, they had been small. And they had been so good, so damn good. I made myself promise I'd go to the gym more that week, knowing that would never happen.

The mountain landscape was beautiful. All it needed was a bit of snow, and it would be perfect.

After a brisk walk, we finally made it to the part of the farm that held the firs.

Declan turned to me with the giant saw in hand. "Well, my queen, which shall it be?"

~Declan~

Leah looked around, bundled up in her red peacoat with her tight jeans and boots. She wore mittens and a matching hat to keep the winter air out, and all I could think at that second was how damn beautiful she was. She glanced around the trees, appraising each one by one, before moving on to the next.

When she'd asked me to bring her here today, I'd thought it was an odd request, but I had been game. With Leah, I was game for anything. After we'd started on our adventure, I realized she'd never been here, and I put two and two together. Leah, in her own way, was letting me in by showing me one of her fantasies.

The little girl that Leah had never gotten to be wanted a real Christmas with a real tree and a decorated house, and she'd asked me to bring her here —not Clare, not Garrett. Me.

Two months ago, I would have run away, feeling overwhelmed with responsibility I wasn't ready to handle. Now, I wanted nothing more than to buy out the entire Christmas section in every major department store and deliver it to her house, so we could decorate every square inch to make up for each minute of her lost youth.

I hadn't always had the greatest childhood. My dad was a dick, and my mom was a bit of a pushover, but they had given me a childhood. They loved me as best as they could, and I knew they had done what they could to provide for me.

"That's a mighty big ax you've got there, mister." Leah grinned before moving past me to check out another row of trees.

The scent of blackberries and vanilla from her perfume filled my senses as she drifted past, leaving me dizzy, and I quickly followed.

"That it is, ma'am...and I know how to use it. I think."

Leah turned, laughing at my confession. Hell, I had grown up with hired help and then moved to L.A. I didn't think I'd ever touched a saw in my life.

"This one," Leah said, stopping dead in her tracks.

Before her sat a perfectly shaped tree with dark green bristles and a straight round trunk. The man in the store had educated us on what to look for, and Leah had found one with all the checkmarks.

"How tall do you think it is?" she asked.

I walked up to it, comparing my six feet three inches against it. "Mmm...probably eight feet at the most. You've got ten feet high ceilings, so it will fit nicely."

She stood there, staring up at her perfect tree, not saying a word.

I closed the distance between us and whispered in her ear, "Is this what you want?"

Her breath caught, before her eyes found mine. "Sorry. What?"

"Okay, now, it's just getting too damn easy." I laughed.

She hit me on the shoulder, which only caused me to laugh louder.

"Are you saying I'm easy?" she asked, feigning indignation.

"Well..." I started.

She huffed as she crossed her arms over her chest, which only distracted me.

"I'll show you easy," she warned before taking off into a full run down one of the tree rows.

"Shit!" I cursed. Laughing, I dropped the ax and took off after her.

The trees were tall, and it was essentially like being in a giant green maze. I could see her head bobbing up and down every once in a while when she would turn directions. She might have been lighter, but I was quicker. I took a different turn, planning to cut her off. As she came around a corner, I caught her around the waist, making her squeal, as I lifted her off the ground.

"You have been a very naughty girl, Leah," I said.

She squirmed and giggled in my arms. Letting her body slide down mine, she froze as our eyes found each other. Still panting from our run through the trees, I gripped the back of her head and crushed my mouth to hers. She instinctively wrapped her legs around me as we kissed.

Breaking our kiss, she asked, "So, what is my punishment? Coal in my stocking?"

"No. After we take that tree home tonight, you're going to strip down naked and let me do whatever I want to you under it all night."

Her eyes sparkled. "Yes, sir."

After several wrong turns through the rows of trees, we found our way back to our ax, and I made my first attempt at cutting down a tree. I must have done a decent job because as soon as the sucker fell, Leah jumped me, telling me that was one of the sexiest things she'd ever seen.

As we dived into our second make-out session in the Christmas tree farm, I felt a tiny fleck of coldness hit my nose, chin, and then my forehead. I looked up just as Leah screamed in excitement.

"Oh my God, it's snowing!" Leah exclaimed.

As if her announcement were an invitation, the few flakes turned into a full-fledged winter wonderland, and snow filled the air. I picked her up and twirled her around while she laughed with her arms outstretched in the falling snow.

"Come on, snow goddess, we better get this tree back to the car. This weather is going to make getting back home interesting."

Making Leah drool again, I lifted the tree and lugged it down to the store. The man had some of the employees help us tie it down to the top of my rented SUV, and I went in and paid for it while Leah was distracted. I also picked up a fresh wreath and another dozen doughnuts for the road.

Our trip back to Richmond was uneventful, thankfully. By the time we got back to Leah's, there was an inch or two of snow on the ground, but the roads were still fairly clear. We hauled everything inside and spent the night decorating Leah's tree. We ate apple doughnuts for dinner, listened to cheesy Christmas music, and made the tree as tacky as possible. It blinked with every light bulb color imaginable, and it had some of the ugliest ornaments I'd ever seen. It was perfect.

When we finished, I looked over at a beaming Leah. "I believe someone has a punishment to serve...an early Christmas present, I think?"

"Ah, yes," she agreed.

In front of our tacky Christmas tree, the woman I was falling in love with slowly undressed, and then she let me make love to her all night long.

~Leah~

I knew I'd made a mistake in visiting him the minute I entered the house, but being the stupid woman I was, I walked in anyway.

"Dad?" I called out.

The house was messier than usual. Dishes were piled high with food so old that there was mold. I stopped breathing through my mouth as soon as the stench hit me. I knew better than to see him when he got like this, but I needed answers, and I was afraid I'd chicken out if I didn't go through with it then.

There was no answer as I continued through the kitchen. I made my way into the living room where I found him. Surprisingly, he was awake, sitting in the old recliner with a fresh drink in his hand. A half empty bottle of whiskey was in front of him on the floor. There was no coffee table. He'd never bothered replacing the one he'd smashed to pieces the night my mom left. He'd just left the living room with this big gaping hole, like a reminder of the hole we had been left with after she walked out.

"Dad?" I said again.

This time, he finally heard me. Turning his head slightly toward me, it took him a while before any recognition spread across his face. That meant he'd been drinking for some time, and that was my cue to leave...yet I stayed.
God, I was dumb.
I sat on the battered old sofa next to him, his eyes following my every movement as I picked up empty glass and garbage, but he didn't say a word.

"What do you want, girl? Did you bring me food?" he asked, his words sloshing together like the whiskey he was holding.

He loved whiskey. It was his god, and he worshiped it faithfully. He was the reason I, to this day, could never touch the stuff.

Girl —that was his name for me. He never called me daughter or addressed me by my first name. At this point, I wasn't even sure he would remember what it was. I'd been
girl
to my father for as long as I could remember.

"No, it's not Thursday. I'll bring you food on Thursday," I reminded him.

Without fail, I always brought him groceries on Thursday. He never remembered though.

"Well then, what the hell do you want?" he asked gruffly.

"I found Mom's grave the other day."

I watched to see his reaction, and there was none —no shock, no anger, no sadness. Nothing.

"Oh," was all he said.

"You knew," I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut, wondering how deep the depth of my parents' deceit had gone.

"Yeah, I knew," he said nonchalantly as he shrugged.

He took a long swig of his drink before picking up the bottle from the floor and refilling the glass up to the top. My father always did this. He refilled his glass constantly, never letting it get below half full. I think he was scared of ever seeing it empty.

"Did you ever think of telling me? That maybe I might want to know my mother died eighteen years ago?" My voice grew louder as I felt the anger rise from my chest.

The man I called father whipped his head back to me, looking shocked by my outburst. Fueled by alcohol, his shock turned to raw rage. It was a look I knew all too well.

"No, I didn't think of telling you shit. And why should I? Your mother was a bitch and a whore. Why would I ever waste a breath saying anything about that woman?" he spat.

I got to my feet, not wanting to hear anymore. I'd come here in search of answers, and the only answer I'd found was more proof that my father had no soul, which was something I'd learned long ago.

"Don't you turn your back to me, you little slut. You're just like her, pretty and willing to spread your legs for anyone," he said, his words slurring again, as he rose from the chair. He swayed a bit, but he managed to right himself fairly quickly before he came after me.

"Turn around and face me, girl," he yelled, yanking my arm and forcing me back around.

Pain raced up my arm as he jerked me around roughly. His shouting hurt my ears, reminding me of the nights I used to lie in my bed with my pillows above my head, wishing someone would come rescue me. My parents had been loud when they'd fought, and it had been endless, but no one had ever come. In our neighborhood, domestic disputes were part of the culture, and no one bothered getting involved in each other's business.

"Dad, I'm sorry I came. I'll leave now, okay? I'll be back on Thursday with some groceries," I said softly, trying to calm him down. My hands were shaking, and I could feel my heart beating like a drum in my chest.

Still holding my arm, he squeezed harder, causing me to wince.

"You are one ungrateful bitch, you know it? Do you know how much it cost me to raise you? Do you have any idea how many hours I had to work in that shithole of a factory to bring home enough money to feed you?"

"I know, Dad. I'm grateful, really."

I tried to pull out of his grip, but he just clamped down tighter, his overgrown nails biting into my skin.

"If you were really grateful, you'd bring me a bottle of whiskey with those shit groceries you bring every week, or you'd give me some money every now and then. God knows I paid enough of it for you over the years."

"I'm not giving you money, Dad," I whimpered, tears running down my face, knowing I should have never come here.

My father yelled in frustration, and the blow to the head he gave me was the last thing I remembered.

~Declan~

The cryptic phone call was my first warning that something was wrong.

Leah and I had planned to watch a movie after my workday ended. It had been a long day of filming, but the director had listened to me, and I felt like I had actually learned and contributed to the film. Pulling me aside, he'd said I had a lot of promise and would even consider bringing me on as an assistant director for another project. It would be a much smaller project, but still, it was directing. It was a huge step, and I couldn't wait to share it with Leah.