Not Quite Crazy
Page 35
She watched him go, pride in the man he was becoming filling her chest.
Later, once the light in his room went off, she dug into her closet and played Santa for the first time in her life.
Chapter Fifteen
Nothing could have prepared Rachel or Owen for Jason’s home.
With Owen guiding her with the GPS on his phone, they turned into a drive that had a private gate.
“Is this it?” Owen asked. He sat up in his seat, staring out the window.
She glanced at the address, looked at what she’d written down. “Yep.”
After ringing the bell, they waited as the gate opened to let them through.
They drove for what felt like five minutes before the tree-lined drive opened up to the house. The sprawling ranch home had to be three stories tall at the highest point but spread the length of six of the houses on her block. The circular cobblestone drive had a massive fountain in the center and a two-story garage to the side.
She gasped. “Holy shit.”
Rachel was fairly sure Owen just dropped an f-bomb.
“How big is this company?”
“It’s pretty big.”
Owen pointed out beyond the house. “Are those horses?”
“I think so.” Jason had horses? How did she not know that?
“I’ve never ridden a horse.”
Unlike the night before when they meandered out of the car, today they scrambled a bit quicker, unable to wait to take it all in.
The massive front door opened, and Jason stepped outside.
“Dude!” Owen ran up the stairs. “This is your house?”
Jason received the one-arm hug from a smiling Owen.
“Ridiculous, isn’t it?”
“It’s epic. Are those your horses?”
“Yup.”
“Wow, can I go explore?”
“Go, knock yourself out.”
Rachel stopped him. “Don’t you wanna say hello first?”
Owen ran off.
“Apparently not,” she muttered.
She brought another obligatory bottle of expensive wine and a token host gift.
Jason walked down the steps. “Let me help you.”
She handed him the wine and closed the car door. “I should have guessed you lived in a place like this.”
“It was my parents’ idea of nirvana.”
“Not yours?”
“It’s okay.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Okay? Really?” She looked up. “I bet you didn’t hang those lights.”
“Nope. We brought in a crew.”
“That’s crazy.”
She started walking toward the door.
He stopped her. “Wait.”
“What?”
Jason stepped in front and lowered his lips to hers. It was warm, inviting, and way too brief. “Merry Christmas.”
Was this what they were now? Greetings with a kiss, butterflies in her stomach, a never-ending smile on her face? “Jason—”
“Don’t worry, I won’t do that in front of everyone.”
She grinned.
“Yet.”
She moaned.
“C’mon. Wait till you see the rest of the house. I think you’ll like it.”
Like was not a word to describe the Fairchild estate: wood and stone, warm colors, and Christmas everywhere. The grand room housed a massive fireplace small children could walk into. Floor to ceiling windows looked out over a lake sprawling beyond a massive span of dormant grass. Jason’s Christmas tree, or one of them, from what she could see in just the one room, stood at least fourteen feet tall.
“I’m speechless,” she told him.
He helped her out of her coat; his hands lingered on her shoulders. He led her to the windows and pointed beyond the lake. “In the summer, everything is green. My father stocked the lake so we could pretend to fish, although my mother refused to let us kill the things. When she was out with friends, my brothers and I would cook them on an open fire just beyond the trees.”
“Defiant kid.” She laughed.
“Does Owen fish?”
“He was raised by a woman, I doubt he was given the chance.”
“We’ll have to change that.”
We? They were a we?
“He told me he was going to start the tae kwon do classes in January.”
“Yeah. He’s excited.”
Jason placed a hand on her hip and squeezed. “He’s going to be great at it.”
The sound of footsteps had Jason dropping his hand.
“I thought I heard voices.” Monica walked in and greeted Rachel with a hug. “We’re so glad you could come.”
“Thank you . . . this is unreal.”
“I know, right? You should see it from the air.”
Rachel didn’t think Monica was kidding.
“Where is Owen?”
“Running around outside,” Jason said.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
Rachel sighed. “Sure.”
She was here, in his house, in his kitchen, with his family. She’d shoot him a look every once in a while, one that asked both questions: What am I doing here? And is it okay that I am?
The few women he’d spent time with had never been in his personal world. They never felt right. Bringing them to the estate would have been like asking a woman to meet his parents. Until Rachel, he hadn’t wanted to do that.
Then she picked him up on the side of a snowy road, and his world changed.
The sliding back door opened and Nathan stepped inside. “Look who I found wandering around the hangar.”
Nathan had his arm around Owen’s shoulders. The boy beamed.
“He has an airstrip, Rachel. A friggin’ airstrip!”
“We do own a company that flies planes,” Glen said.
Jason spoke up. “Owen, this is . . . everyone. Everyone, this is Owen.”
A chorus of hellos commenced.
Owen walked up to Trent. “You must be a brother.”
Trent hesitated.
“Jason’s brother?”
He laughed. “Yes, I am. Trent.”
“And I’m Glen.”
Owen shook hands and looked around the room. “This is the complete opposite of last night.”
“How so?” Jason asked.
“Rachel was the only white woman in the room, and today I’m the token black kid.”
“You’re black?” Mary asked with a wink.
They laughed.
“Soda’s in the fridge, Owen. Help yourself,” Monica told him.
Owen didn’t need to be told twice. “So is the inside of this place as big as the out?” he asked.
“It’s like Narnia,” Glen told him. “We’d play hide-and-seek for hours.”
“That’s because Trent would fall asleep in a closet and we’d get bored trying to find him.”
“I’d get lost,” Owen said. He twisted at the sound of the train as it passed through the room. “There’s a train?”
For a moment, Trent and Glen glanced at Jason, and the three of them shared that first moment again. The one when their father watched their reactions as the train made its way into the room for the first time.
“It just gets better,” Owen said, following the path of the train out of the room.
“Makes all the hours putting that thing up worth it,” Glen said.
“You have a train moving around your house.” Rachel shook her head.
Jason leaned against the counter. “Christmas and trains. What’s not to love?”
Later, once the light in his room went off, she dug into her closet and played Santa for the first time in her life.
Chapter Fifteen
Nothing could have prepared Rachel or Owen for Jason’s home.
With Owen guiding her with the GPS on his phone, they turned into a drive that had a private gate.
“Is this it?” Owen asked. He sat up in his seat, staring out the window.
She glanced at the address, looked at what she’d written down. “Yep.”
After ringing the bell, they waited as the gate opened to let them through.
They drove for what felt like five minutes before the tree-lined drive opened up to the house. The sprawling ranch home had to be three stories tall at the highest point but spread the length of six of the houses on her block. The circular cobblestone drive had a massive fountain in the center and a two-story garage to the side.
She gasped. “Holy shit.”
Rachel was fairly sure Owen just dropped an f-bomb.
“How big is this company?”
“It’s pretty big.”
Owen pointed out beyond the house. “Are those horses?”
“I think so.” Jason had horses? How did she not know that?
“I’ve never ridden a horse.”
Unlike the night before when they meandered out of the car, today they scrambled a bit quicker, unable to wait to take it all in.
The massive front door opened, and Jason stepped outside.
“Dude!” Owen ran up the stairs. “This is your house?”
Jason received the one-arm hug from a smiling Owen.
“Ridiculous, isn’t it?”
“It’s epic. Are those your horses?”
“Yup.”
“Wow, can I go explore?”
“Go, knock yourself out.”
Rachel stopped him. “Don’t you wanna say hello first?”
Owen ran off.
“Apparently not,” she muttered.
She brought another obligatory bottle of expensive wine and a token host gift.
Jason walked down the steps. “Let me help you.”
She handed him the wine and closed the car door. “I should have guessed you lived in a place like this.”
“It was my parents’ idea of nirvana.”
“Not yours?”
“It’s okay.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Okay? Really?” She looked up. “I bet you didn’t hang those lights.”
“Nope. We brought in a crew.”
“That’s crazy.”
She started walking toward the door.
He stopped her. “Wait.”
“What?”
Jason stepped in front and lowered his lips to hers. It was warm, inviting, and way too brief. “Merry Christmas.”
Was this what they were now? Greetings with a kiss, butterflies in her stomach, a never-ending smile on her face? “Jason—”
“Don’t worry, I won’t do that in front of everyone.”
She grinned.
“Yet.”
She moaned.
“C’mon. Wait till you see the rest of the house. I think you’ll like it.”
Like was not a word to describe the Fairchild estate: wood and stone, warm colors, and Christmas everywhere. The grand room housed a massive fireplace small children could walk into. Floor to ceiling windows looked out over a lake sprawling beyond a massive span of dormant grass. Jason’s Christmas tree, or one of them, from what she could see in just the one room, stood at least fourteen feet tall.
“I’m speechless,” she told him.
He helped her out of her coat; his hands lingered on her shoulders. He led her to the windows and pointed beyond the lake. “In the summer, everything is green. My father stocked the lake so we could pretend to fish, although my mother refused to let us kill the things. When she was out with friends, my brothers and I would cook them on an open fire just beyond the trees.”
“Defiant kid.” She laughed.
“Does Owen fish?”
“He was raised by a woman, I doubt he was given the chance.”
“We’ll have to change that.”
We? They were a we?
“He told me he was going to start the tae kwon do classes in January.”
“Yeah. He’s excited.”
Jason placed a hand on her hip and squeezed. “He’s going to be great at it.”
The sound of footsteps had Jason dropping his hand.
“I thought I heard voices.” Monica walked in and greeted Rachel with a hug. “We’re so glad you could come.”
“Thank you . . . this is unreal.”
“I know, right? You should see it from the air.”
Rachel didn’t think Monica was kidding.
“Where is Owen?”
“Running around outside,” Jason said.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
Rachel sighed. “Sure.”
She was here, in his house, in his kitchen, with his family. She’d shoot him a look every once in a while, one that asked both questions: What am I doing here? And is it okay that I am?
The few women he’d spent time with had never been in his personal world. They never felt right. Bringing them to the estate would have been like asking a woman to meet his parents. Until Rachel, he hadn’t wanted to do that.
Then she picked him up on the side of a snowy road, and his world changed.
The sliding back door opened and Nathan stepped inside. “Look who I found wandering around the hangar.”
Nathan had his arm around Owen’s shoulders. The boy beamed.
“He has an airstrip, Rachel. A friggin’ airstrip!”
“We do own a company that flies planes,” Glen said.
Jason spoke up. “Owen, this is . . . everyone. Everyone, this is Owen.”
A chorus of hellos commenced.
Owen walked up to Trent. “You must be a brother.”
Trent hesitated.
“Jason’s brother?”
He laughed. “Yes, I am. Trent.”
“And I’m Glen.”
Owen shook hands and looked around the room. “This is the complete opposite of last night.”
“How so?” Jason asked.
“Rachel was the only white woman in the room, and today I’m the token black kid.”
“You’re black?” Mary asked with a wink.
They laughed.
“Soda’s in the fridge, Owen. Help yourself,” Monica told him.
Owen didn’t need to be told twice. “So is the inside of this place as big as the out?” he asked.
“It’s like Narnia,” Glen told him. “We’d play hide-and-seek for hours.”
“That’s because Trent would fall asleep in a closet and we’d get bored trying to find him.”
“I’d get lost,” Owen said. He twisted at the sound of the train as it passed through the room. “There’s a train?”
For a moment, Trent and Glen glanced at Jason, and the three of them shared that first moment again. The one when their father watched their reactions as the train made its way into the room for the first time.
“It just gets better,” Owen said, following the path of the train out of the room.
“Makes all the hours putting that thing up worth it,” Glen said.
“You have a train moving around your house.” Rachel shook her head.
Jason leaned against the counter. “Christmas and trains. What’s not to love?”
