“Sara,” he said with so much gentleness, tears almost came to her eyes. “This is temporary. Living here and accepting help is temporary. Didn’t you once tell me I had to get over my pride and rethink my life to make it work again?”
The fact that he remembered her words from when she’d been his physical therapist touched her. He’d been at an emotional as well as a physical low, not ready to give up the life he’d wanted to pursue. While photographing children outside a refugee camp in Kenya, he and a few other aid workers had been injured by a marauding band of criminals. For some reason, the last thing he’d wanted to do was return to his father and Raintree Winery and make a place for himself here. She’d never known the real reason why, but she had known other details about Jase’s life, details that now made her wonder if everyone experienced betrayal at one point or another. His fiancée had been unfaithful.
“Your memory is too good,” she murmured, wondering what else he remembered about what she’d told him while he was in treatment with her.
He chuckled. “I only remember the important stuff.” He cast a glance down at Amy. “Don’t you think she’d be happy here? Plenty of room to wander. For you, too. I hear long walks are therapeutic.”
This time Sara had to laugh, and it was almost a strange sensation for her. Her life had been nothing but serious the past couple of years. “Did you follow all the advice I gave you?”
“Not all, but most. I wanted to get well...and strong.”
He was obviously strong again. Although he wore jeans and a white oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up, she could see the muscles underneath when he moved. After all, as a physical therapist, she quickly assessed the condition of muscles. He’d been way too lean when she’d treated him. Now he’d built up muscle all over. From the looks of his flat stomach, he had strength there, too.
Jase Cramer wasn’t handsome in the usual sense. Those lines around his eyes and along his mouth were a little deeper than they should be at his thirty-six years. But there was an intensity about Jase, a deep passion that hadn’t been so evident when he’d first come to her as a patient, but had been revitalized by the end of his therapy.
“Let’s take a look at the bedrooms,” he suggested.
Empty bedrooms, she reminded herself, feeling an unexpected spark deep down inside whenever her gaze met his. Not going to happen, she warned herself. If she and Amy did accept Jase’s kind offer, they would only stay as long as it took for her to get back on her financial feet.
One bedroom was smaller than the other, but both were adequate, and there was one bathroom they’d share. It was a cozy guesthouse and she wondered why it was empty.
“Do you rent this out?”
“My father hasn’t done that since before I returned home. While I was growing up, our housekeeper lived here, but he let her go when I went to college. Friends have stayed here on and off for vacations, that kind of thing, before my father emptied it. He updated it by refinishing the floors and putting in new appliances. He likes everything to be in tip-top shape, even if he doesn’t use it.”
Sara had noticed Jase rarely referred to his father as his dad. That seemed kind of odd but she’d never questioned him about it.
“Your father’s okay with us staying here?”
Jase frowned. “I’ll be honest with you. He doesn’t like a lot of people around. Our chief winemaker, Liam Corbett, has an apartment above the winery and he’s used to him living there. So he had reservations about inviting you here. But he couldn’t give me a good reason not to. I promised him you wouldn’t have wild parties that lasted all weekend.”
Again, she had to smile. “No wild parties,” she assured him.
When they returned to the living room, Jase dropped down into a crouch again to be on eye level with Amy. “I didn’t ask your mom first,” he said with a wink. “You can make the decision for both of you. How would you like a sweet treat? I have sweet rolls made with grape jelly from vineyard grapes. They’d be great with a glass of milk for a late breakfast.”
Amy looked up at her mom with pleading eyes. She loved sweets and Sara usually limited them to cookies as a bedtime snack. But Amy had been through so much, she didn’t have the heart to deny her a treat. She had lost her toys in the fire. She’d slept with Sara the past few nights in Kaitlyn’s spare room. She’d asked Sara when they were going home, and it had been so hard to explain to a four-year-old that they didn’t have a home anymore.
Jase rose to his feet, and when Sara gazed into his eyes, she said, “I think a sweet treat is just what we all need.”