“Wherever we’ll be spending the most time is fine.”
“Feel free to take a look around.” Jase carried the large dog beds down a short hall and disappeared around the corner.
Bree glanced around. The U-shaped kitchen opened into the breakfast area. Rather than follow Jase, Bree went through the door to her left, which led her to the dining room. Built-in hutches occupied two corners of the room. Judging by the thin layer of dust on the table, Bree guessed Jase ate all his meals in the kitchen. Formal double doors to her right led her to the foyer. Straight through was a formal living room was one of the two fireplaces Jase had mentioned. Through two more double doors was a large family room where Jase had arranged the dog beds in the back corner, next to the second fireplace. A large framed drawing hung above the dark wood mantel.
Bree stared at the picture. It was the same one tattooed on his back. A black and white montage of battle scenes. It looked like it was drawn in pencil or charcoal. The detail was exquisite.
At the back of the family room, a short hall led to a full bath and a bedroom, which Jase used as a home gym. On the right, stairs led to the second floor. She kept walking around to the right and found herself back in the breakfast area and kitchen. Jase was pulling food out of the refrigerator, and she could smell onions and peppers sautéing on the stove.
“Fajitas okay?” Jase asked when he noticed her come back into the kitchen.
“That sounds good. You chopped up those onions while I was walking around? Are you a culinary wizard?”
Jase chuckled. “The exact opposite. I hate chopping onions so I buy them pre-sliced.”
“Huh. I’m assuming you have beer,” she said.
He pointed a wooden spoon at the refrigerator. “Yeah, I have beer. Help yourself.”
“You want one?”
“Sure.”
Bree grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and opened one for Jase.
“Do you want some help?”
“I got it. Sit down and relax.” She sat at the table and watched Jase move around his kitchen. His butt filled out his jeans nicely, especially when he bent to get another pan out of a lower cabinet.
“How old is your house?” Bree asked, trying to distract herself.
“Court records said early 1920s. There were some renovations done in the late 70s, early 80s, but it was in pretty bad shape when I bought it.”
“I was going to ask if any of it was original. The brick in the living room is gorgeous,” she said.
The sound of sizzling meat hitting a hot pan filled the kitchen. “My best friend Tony and I spent a little more than a year renovating after I bought the place,” he explained. “We had both just gotten out of the Army and just wanted to relax a little. Have a place away from people.”
“How much land do you have?” she asked.
“Almost ten acres.”
“That’ll get you away from people.”
“Tony didn’t adjust so well after getting out,” he said. Jase looked at her, something in his eyes. A haunted look. One she had observed in many of her patients. Guys who’d seen too much, done too much, and sacrificed more than anyone should ever have to. A look she’d seen in her own mirror.
“Anyway, we gutted the place, top to bottom. A couple of guys we knew from the service did the electrical and plumbing for me, but we did the rest ourselves.”
“You did a really good job. I like that you kept the original structure – all the rooms – and didn’t try to make it open concept,” she said.
Jase stirred the meat in the cast iron pan before looking at Bree. “Your house has an open concept.”
“Only for the family room and kitchen. I renovated it after my gran deeded it to me. I did the demo myself, but everything else a contractor did. Had the bay windows put in the dining room and kitchen nook and opened up the kitchen – it was tiny before. Combined the two back bedrooms into the master and put in an ensuite.”
“That was cool of her, to deed it to you,” he said.
“It got to be too much for her after my grandfather passed away.”
“Where is she now?” He moved the meat off the pan.
