Not Quite Crazy
Page 17

Jason couldn’t wrap his brain around the whole thing. “But the Colemans want custody?”
“Yeah. Early on they wanted nothing to do with Em. Thought she was after their money or some stupid thing. My guess is, since TJ never settled down and hasn’t given them legitimate grandchildren, they want a shot now that Em isn’t in the way.”
“Forcing it isn’t the way to go,” he said.
“That’s what I told them. I can’t argue with a grandparent wanting to know their grandson. Even TJ made it to Emily’s funeral. After everything settled, I realized that if something happened to me, Owen wouldn’t have anyone. I mean, my parents would step up, but they’d be just as hard for Owen to live with as the Colemans. So as long as everyone plays nice, Owen and I will stay here and make a new life.”
Jason paused. “And if everyone doesn’t play nice?”
She made eye contact and smiled. “I hear Panama is nice this time of year.”
It sounded like a joke, but he wouldn’t put it past her. “It is, actually.”
“You’ve been?”
“I own a company that flies private jets. I’ve been everywhere.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, as if she’d forgotten who he was. “What are you doing in my living room?”
He lifted his coffee cup. “Drinking cold coffee and giving you a chance to know me.”
“Hardly. I’ve done all the talking.”
Jason pushed forward on the chair. “That means we’ll have to do it again so you can dig into my secrets.”
She unfolded her legs from the coffee table. “About that.”
He held up his hand. Looked at it. “We’re not hand-holding. I have dinner with lots of my employees.”
“You put up my Christmas lights.”
He pointed two fingers in her direction. “You have me there. Still . . . nothing here is job-ending-worthy.”
She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Well, showing up late is, so . . .”
“I get the hint.” He stood along with her, and she walked him to the door.
He slid on his coat.
“Thank you again. For everything.” Rachel opened the door.
He turned to her.
She held on to the door, her hands fidgeting with what looked like nerves.
“You’re welcome,” he said, not making any attempt to hug her, hold her hand and kiss the back of it . . . push her against the door and taste the back of her throat. No, he was quite reserved, given the fact he wanted to do all three of those things.
“I’ll see you later,” she said.
“Good night, Rachel.”
“G’night, Jason.” There was a tiny sigh in her voice. Whimsy or want . . . either way, he liked the way it sounded.
Less than thirty minutes later, he was climbing the stairs to the master suite of the estate . . . the walls of the house quiet, the lights outside illuminating the halls through the windows. He pulled his cell phone from his back pocket and shot off a quick text. Your lights will go off at eleven. If that’s too long I’ll change it on Saturday.
A quick dot, dot, dot flashed. It’s a miracle, your phone is alive!
He laughed as he walked into his room. Don’t you have to work in the morning?
Don’t you?
I’m already in bed. Well, he was sitting on his bed, taking off his shoes, and texting. I bet money you’re cleaning up empty decoration boxes.
When she didn’t reply right away, he knew he was right.
Rachel?
Nothing.
You’re cleaning up, aren’t you?
Crickets.
Did your phone die? Like his had.
Ha! It fell in the fish tank.
Jason pictured her living room. You don’t have a fish tank.
I’ll work on that.
He managed to kick off one boot. Goodnight.
Goodnight.
Jason tossed his phone to the side of his bed and forced the second boot from his foot. For the first time since he’d moved into the master bedroom, he took notice of the color of paint on his walls. A decorator had removed his parents’ life before he’d moved into it. His mother was a buttery yellow kind of woman, and his father had let her decorate the house as she saw fit. Everything except the master suite had stayed the same, but the soothing yellow had gone away in order for Jason to make it his. Shades of olive and brown matched the style of the rest of the house without making the room overly masculine. He’d approved a picture and returned after a European business trip to have it completed. Much like hanging Christmas lights, he hadn’t painted a wall since he was a teenager. And that had to have been one of the walls in the guesthouse Nathan occupied on the property. The man had made it his business to give Jason and his brothers a space they could make mistakes in. Not that his own parents cared that they would screw things up, it was just that the main house was too large to ever consider tackling a project such as painting a room. He liked the feeling of accomplishment something as simple as hanging a strand of lights gave him. There was a lightness inside his chest that he hadn’t felt in a while.
He liked it.
Halfway through Thursday, Trent made an unexpected appearance at Jason’s door. The youngest brother came to the office twice a week at most. He headed the vacation helicopter tour section of their business, and then spent the rest of his time working from home or flying all over the globe with his wife, Monica, helping relief efforts. Flying in medicine or flying out a heart, the two of them had made it their quest in life to help others. They’d been married for four years and still looked at each other with lovestruck eyes.
“To what do I owe the honor?” Jason pushed a pile of papers aside and stood to shake his brother’s hand.
“It’s my day in purgatory.”
Jason smiled at Trent’s reference to the Manhattan office. “You don’t hate it as much as you carry on.”
“That’s debatable.”
They sat down.
“What’s on your mind?”
“Cut right through the bull, eh?”
“I do have a schedule to keep here in purgatory.”
Trent leaned forward, rested his hands on his knees. “I’ll keep it short. Monica and I want to use the ranch for a charity fundraising event in early spring.”
Jason paused. “You don’t have to ask.”
“Yes I do.”
“It’s just as much your home as it is mine.”
Trent lifted a hand in the air. “Fine, but you live there.”
No matter how many times he told his brothers his permission wasn’t needed, they always asked. “All right. Yes, you can use the estate. Just tell the staff.”
“We’d like to make sure you can attend.”
Jason sat up. “Well, now we’re talking a different thing.” He opened his calendar on his desktop. “When are you thinking?”
“Last weekend of April or the first weekend of May.”
“Has to be May. I’ll be in the London offices the last week in April.”
“Perfect. I’ll tell Monica.” Trent stood to leave. “By the way, it’s going to be an auction event. Monica wanted to let you know that if you didn’t bring a date, she’s threatening to auction you off for a night out with the CEO.”
Jason stared in silence for several seconds. “I’ll have a date.”
“Really?”
Jason paused on purpose. The kind of waiting that made the other person listen to what was going to be said next. “Yes, really.”