Page 48 of The Run Option

“Lo.” His deep voice finds me on the spiraling trail of my thoughts. “I know I may not be your first choice, but I am your husband. I’m here for you if you want to talk.”

“I’ve already dumped enough on you these past few days,” I voice a portion of my fears. It’s hard to know whether I can truly trust him or not, but Jason hasn’t given me a reason not to so far. I’ve already determined he’s a different man than the one who flirted then forgot me.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m pretty strong,” he jokes, making my lips tip up involuntarily. “I can hold more than you think.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I glance over at him. “But I think for now I’d like to have some quiet. Time with my thoughts.”

“Okay, I can make that happen. We’ve got a little bit of a drive ahead of us. You just relax over there. Let me know if you need anything.”

My chest warms at his easy acceptance of my request. No pushing or arguing, just support. I shift in my seat to watch out the window again and let my mind wander once more.

To say that my prediction about Jason’s house was wrong would be a severe understatement. Everything I imagined was so unbelievably off. The modern mansion I’d thought we’d be approaching has been replaced by a cream farmhouse with warm wood accents. The cozy abode is situated at the end of a long, winding drive lined with beautiful tall oak and pine trees.

Behind the house is a stable, which Jason says houses his horses. It took all my effort to keep my jaw from dropping. This is my dream home. I haven’t even been inside yet and I’m already in love.

“If you’re up for it later, I’ll take you on a tour of the whole property. But I’m sure you want some time to yourself, and I need a nap,” Jason says as he carries our bags up the front porch steps.

There are a few padded rocking chairs out front, but no porch swing. That may be the only thing I’d change so far. Everything else is gorgeous. And though I said I was looking forward to being alone, I’d be ready for a tour right this second if he was.

“If you’re tired, you can just show me my room and do the tour later,” I tell him.

“Look at you being sweet. Has getting married made you soft?” he asks.

I shove his shoulder as I walk in through the front door. “The only thing getting married has changed about me is my last name.”

Lies. I am a liar. Over the past few days so much has changed in regards to my feelings toward him, and yesterday only jumbled them up more. Now I know what his hand on my thigh feels like, his breath on my neck, and his lips on mine. There’s no going back from that.

“Good, I like you just the way you are.” The sincerity in his tone would have more of an effect on me if not for the beauty of his home distracting me.

The inside is just as gorgeous, if not more so, than the exterior. It’s somehow the perfect blend of light and cozy. The color palette is a mix of sage green, cream, and wood tones. The living room couch looks like a fluffy beige cloud, piled with soft flannel blankets and throw pillows of various sizes. A large TV hangs on the wall, but beneath it is an entertainment center that looks like some kind of antique cabinet.

From where we’re standing in the entrance, you can see both the living room and the state-of-the-art kitchen with its butcher block counters and white cabinets. Beyond that is a dining areawith a long wood table flanked by matching wood benches. And even further are glass French doors letting in the afternoon sun.

“It’s gorgeous,” I murmur.

“Thank you,” Jason says, a hint of pride in his voice. “I helped design everything, but I can’t take all the credit. I hired some great people. If I’d done it on my own, I’m sure it would look more like the bachelor pad you imagined,” he says with a wry smile.

“It’s not what I expected, and I’m happy to be wrong,” I say.

His smile grows. “Let me show you to your room first to set down your bags. You can see that this is the living room and the kitchen is over there.” He dips his head in the direction of it. “Feel free to stock the fridge and pantry with whatever you like. I’m not super picky. I am allergic to peanuts though, so if you could keep any peanut butter or things like that in a separate cabinet I’d appreciate it.”

I frown as I follow him down the hallway. He never mentioned that before. What if I would have accidentally poisoned him? What if he eats some? Does he have an epipen? Do I need to know how to use it? I’m about to voice my questions when he pushes open a door. Behind it is a large room with shining hardwood floors, a king-sized bed with a duvet that looks like it belongs in the hotel we just left, and a door leading to a shiny marble bathroom.

“Here’s your room. It has an attached bathroom, but if you like the master suite better I’m happy to move. A bed is a bed to me.” He sets my bags on the floor, then scratches the back of his neck. “One thing I forgot to mention though is that you’ll have to keep most of your stuff in my room. When the documentary comes here, I don’t want it to look like we sleep in separate rooms.”

“I hadn’t thought of that, but that’s a good point. I guess I’ll just keep my clothes in your closet? And have any other personal stuff put away so they don’t see it.”

He nods. “That would be great. Once they’re done filming, you can make your room all yours. I’m sorry you can’t do that right away. I want you to feel at home.”

Little does he know I wouldn’t change much of anything. Maybe add a few more colors into the mix, a coffee table book or two. But this place feels snatched right off my dream home Pinterest board.

“It’s okay. I don’t want to raise any suspicions.”

“Thank you,” he says, his green eyes warm like a patch of grass beneath the summer sun. “Now, there’s not much more to the inside of the house. My room is across the hall, and there’s another guest bedroom next to this one. A hall bath is on the other side of the house near the laundry room and garage door.”

“Okay, good to know.” I try to commit what he’s saying to memory, though I’m sure I’m going to accidentally open the wrong door once or twice as I get used to things.

“Sorry, I should just show you around,” he says with a laugh, but I can hear how tired he is in his voice.

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