Chapter 13
Thirteen
JASON
Jason leaned back in his chair, the warmth of the kitchen wrapping around him like a well-worn quilt. The scents of home—fresh bread, roasted chicken, and the faintest trace of his mother’s lavender-scented hand soap—lingered in the air. The laughter of his siblings bounced off the old wooden beams of the farmhouse, the easy kind of joy that could only exist in places where love had sunk deep into the very bones of the building.
And right there, in the middle of it all, was Caitlin.
He found himself watching her—not just noticing, but really watching . The way her eyes crinkled when she laughed, the way she leaned in conspiratorially with Becca and Toni as if sharing the world’s best-kept secret. She fit so effortlessly here, slipping into place like she’d been molded for it.
Something thick settled in his chest.
This.
This was what mattered. Not the never-ending list of responsibilities weighing on his shoulders, not the constant battle to keep everything from falling apart. Life wasn’t about duty or regrets. It was about this —about the people sitting around this table, about lifting them up instead of simply keeping things from crashing down.
Family.
And Caitlin—she was part of that, wasn’t she? In some way, she always had been. First as Matthew’s tagalong best friend, later as the steadfast presence at birthdays, weddings, and homecomings. She’d been woven into their lives, threading herself through the years in a way that felt so natural he’d never thought to question it.
But now… now it was different.
He wasn’t looking at her as the girl who used to run barefoot through the fields, trying to keep up with Matthew’s wild ideas. He wasn’t even looking at her as the woman who had gone off to make something of herself in the Navy, only to come home with a quiet sort of steel in her spine that hadn’t been there before.
No, now he was looking at her as his .
The realization hit him square in the chest, like a well-placed punch, knocking the air from his lungs. He barely heard the conversation around him as he let the thought settle in, let it take root.
She wasn’t his yet. But dang it - if he didn’t want her to be.
A smirk tugged at his lips as he watched her elbow Becca playfully, her face alight with mischief. He wanted to know every piece of her—the past that had shaped her, the dreams she hadn’t spoken aloud, the things that made her eyes light up like that.
What had she seen while she was away? What had changed her? What corners of the world had left their mark on her soul?
The questions chased each other through his mind long after the evening wound down, long after the dishes were washed, the lights dimmed, and the house fell into the kind of silence only found in the countryside at night.
And now, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, Jason let out a slow breath.
He could still hear the echoes of her laughter, could still see the way she had looked at him across the table—like maybe, just maybe , she was seeing something new in him, too.
The idea of her wasn’t just a passing fancy. It was something more. Something real . And heck, if he was going to sit on his hands and let it slip by.
A slow grin spread across his face as he whispered into the darkness, “And there’s no time like the present.”
Tomorrow, he was going to make darn sure Caitlin was a part of the renovations on his home, and that meant getting to know what she liked and disliked, and merging her life with his. It wasn’t just about talking about possible ideas for the house – no, it was going to be done by doing updates.
Together.
Like a couple.
“Wow… I really want to be part of a ‘ couple, ’” he breathed, smiling.
* * *
Jason sat at his kitchen table, the rich aroma of black coffee curling into the cool morning air. Sunlight streaked through the window, casting long golden bars across the hardwood floor. He took a slow sip, letting the heat seep into him, but it didn’t touch the restlessness under his skin.
His phone rested beside him, an unspoken promise.
With a smirk, he tapped out a message.
Hey, when is your next free day off?
Her reply came almost instantly.
According to my coworkers, I’m ‘off’ every day…
And in case you can’t tell – I’m being sarcastic.
Using Jason-mode.
His smirk widened.
I’m not sarcastic.
See? Powerful stuff right there…
Jason chuckled, shaking his head. She was ridiculous—and he liked it. More than he wanted to admit. On impulse, he snapped a quick selfie, his grin lazy, teasing. He sent it along with another message.
Wanna go shopping with me?
The response wasn’t a text.
His phone rang.
Jason stared at the screen for a split second before answering, already bracing himself.
“Is that a yes ?” he drawled, leaning back in his chair.
“It’s an ‘ I’m curious’ —and I’m at work, so I can’t talk long,” she murmured, the quiet hum of Pizza Palace in the background. “But what do you mean by shopping?”
Jason hesitated, tracing the rim of his coffee mug with one finger. He hadn’t expected her to call—hadn’t expected himself to be this wound up at the sound of her voice.
“Well,” he started casually, “I have it on good authority that there’s this girl who bakes sourdough bread at home from scratch, and I thought, hmm, who better to go shopping with for an oven than a woman who bakes?”
Silence.
The kind that made his chest feel tight, like the moment before a plane hit turbulence.
“You want me to go shopping with you… for an oven,” she repeated slowly. “For your house.”
Jason swallowed, suddenly aware of how his heart was hammering against his ribs.
“Maybe…” he said quietly, staring into the depths of his coffee like it had answers. The thought of her by his side, testing oven doors, arguing over convection settings, maybe stopping for lunch somewhere after—it shouldn’t make him feel like this. But it did. “I mean, if you’d rather not, I could use some advice picking out paint or maybe a dining table.”
Another pause.
This one stretched longer, thick with something he couldn’t name.
Jason pressed his lips together, waiting. It shouldn’t have mattered if she said no. He’d been fine before her. He’d be fine after.
Right?
Then, finally, her voice came through, low, almost fragile.
“We’re gonna pick out stuff… together?”
His chest ached.
“I thought we could,” he admitted. “If you’re interested in… you know, together stuff.”
There was a small, broken exhale on the other end. It made his throat tighten.
“Oh, Jason,” she whispered, the emotion so thick it rolled through the receiver and settled in his bones. “I’m very interested in ‘ together-stuff’ , and you cannot change your mind.”
He smiled. “I’m not.”
A beat of silence, then, “What made you want to pick out stuff together?”
Jason exhaled through his nose, letting his head tip back against the chair. He could tell her the truth—tell her how darn good it felt to talk to her, to banter, to want something beyond his own solitude.
Instead, he smirked.
“It was that sexy terry cloth bathrobe and morning breath,” he deadpanned.
Her laughter cracked through the phone, watery and full of disbelief. The sound turned something over in him, something deep and unmovable.
“Turns out I’m a sicko and was severely attracted to that version of you,” he added.
“Oh, just wait till I get the flu or something.”
“Epic lust?”
“Raging.”
Jason grinned, feeling lighter than he had in years.
“Bring it.”
“I’m off tomorrow – and I have to warn you: I’m picky.”
“I’m open to your suggestions,” He replied. “I’ll pick you up at two, and we can grab dinner or something.”
“So shopping and… and a date? Are you okay?”
“I think I’ve finally figured myself out, Catnip.”
“Well, okay, then,” Caitlin chuckled, and he heard a bell chime in the distance. “Gotta go! Muah !” she said in a rush, and he surprised himself by saying ‘ Muah’ back, both of them laughing softly before the call ended – and he shook his head in disbelief.
* * *
Jason rapped his knuckles against Caitlin’s door, rolling his shoulders as he waited. The moment it swung open, he barely had time to register the frustration burning in her deep green eyes before he was met with the sight of her—flour dusted across her cheeks, a smudge of white streaked down her forearm, and an utterly ridiculous, yet undeniably adorable apron wrapped around her waist. The thing was vintage-style, covered in colorful ruffles, and looked so out of place on her that he couldn’t help himself. His lips twitched, a slow smile forming.
Her glare was instant. “No comments.”
Jason bit back his laughter, though his chest shook with it. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“I’m serious,” she muttered, waving him in as she turned on her heel. “I’m running behind, and I’m not happy about it. I lost track of time, and I’m almost done, but it’s just…” She threw her hands up in exasperation before pressing them to her hips.
“You’re fine.” He stepped inside, glancing around with curiosity. He’d never actually been in her house before, and though his focus should have been on her flour-covered frustration, his mind cataloged the details—a cozy warmth, soft light filtering in, the lingering scent of something rich and yeasty in the air. It felt like her, all at once comforting and full of energy, and he was struck by the simple fact that he liked it here.
Caitlin caught him looking and narrowed her eyes as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. “Kitchen. Now.”
He followed her, intrigued when she pointed toward a glass container on the counter filled with a bubbling, foamy substance.
“This is Mary Dough,” she announced with the same gravity someone might use to introduce a beloved pet.
Jason blinked. “Mary... Dough?”
“My sourdough starter,” she clarified, shooting him a look. “And she’s really kicking now. Remember the bread for the orphanage – that’s from her. I’m making a loaf from the discard.”
He arched a brow. “Show me.”
The words were out before he fully realized them, but something about the way she moved—the way she commanded the kitchen, the sheer focus in her expression—had him riveted. She had measuring cups scattered across the counter, a thermometer, an oddly shaped pan with a heavy lid, and a pink scraper she wielded like a weapon as she worked the dough.
“I’m walking the dough,” she explained, her movements precise, hands deft as she slid the scraper under one side, folding the mass over itself. It was oddly mesmerizing, the way she moved with such practiced ease, her focus absolute.
Jason leaned in, smirking. “And you do this for fun?”
Her lips quirked up. “Oh yeah.”
She didn’t hesitate; her smile was bright as she spoke, and he felt something in his chest tighten. “I feel good, like I’m feeding myself something nutritious, and the smell of bread baking in the house? It’s just cozy, you know?”
He didn’t know. But watching her and seeing the passion in her expression, he suddenly wanted to understand.
“Is it any good?”
Caitlin gasped in mock horror. “You haven’t had my sourdough? Not even from the festival?”
He shrugged. “I donated all of it to the orphanage, remember?”
“Oh, I remember all right,” she laughed, shaking her head as she moved quickly, tucking the dough into a linen-lined basket before turning toward a breadbox. “Let me treat you, then.”
He watched as she pulled out a loaf, slicing off a thick wedge. “Waxed fabric keeps it fresher longer,” she explained, completely in her element. “And I keep a butter crock on the counter so it spreads easily.”
Jason barely had time to process that information before she smeared a generous amount of butter across the bread and handed it to him. He took a bite?—
His eyes shot to hers instantly.
The taste exploded in his mouth, sharp and yeasty, a perfect balance of sour and rich warmth. The texture was light, almost spongy, and yet it had a satisfying chew that had him immediately going in for another bite.
Caitlin grinned. “Oooh, crumb shot.”
Jason barely had time to register her words before she did the unthinkable—picked up a stray crumb, tossed it up, and caught it on her tongue. Her throat was arched, her eyes closed, and everything stopped in the universe.
He froze.
His brain short-circuited as heat slammed into him like a freight train.
Her gaze met his, widening in horrified awareness as the realization of what she’d said—and how it sounded—hit her at the exact same time.
His own thoughts derailed entirely. The bite he’d just swallowed turned into cement in his throat, a slew of inappropriate ideas flashing through his mind faster than he could shove them down. He coughed, struggling to clear his airway, and without a word, Caitlin handed him a glass of water.
He chugged it down, staring at her in disbelief… and curiosity.
Oh gosh, was he curious. His mind was screaming all sorts of questions, wanting to know more, wanting to know if she understood just how dirty that sounded… all of it.
All. Of. It.
Everything.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, cheeks flaming. “It just, you know…”
Jason let out a strangled laugh, dragging a hand over his face, rubbing it frantically to wipe the thought and pictures out of his mind. “You’re killing me.”
Her brow furrowed. “What?”
He gestured wildly, exasperated. “The looks you give me, your hobbies, how freaking cute you are sometimes—and then you go and say the most innocent and hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Her mouth parted slightly. “I?—”
“Don’t apologize,” he rasped, horror dawning in his voice. “I’m fascinated. I want to do this with you, learn this with you, help you, and, heaven help me, especially if it involves crumb shots ? — ”
She let out a startled laugh, biting her lip, and he pointed at her.
“Don’t. Tell. Anyone. I said that.”
“I won’t.” Her lips twitched, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I promise, all those crumb shots are just for you and me.”
Jason groaned, closing his eyes, his entire body tensing. “Stop. That. Be good.” He shook his head, willing himself to get it together. “Don’t say it again for at least five minutes, wash up, and I need air—and not necessarily in that order.”
She laughed, and he turned on his heel, storming out of the house like a man on a mission, sucking in a deep breath of fresh air as he hit the porch.
And then he exhaled, slow and disbelieving, a laugh rumbling from his chest as he ran a hand through his hair.
“I’m gonna marry her.”
* * *
Home Depot wasn’t exactly the most romantic place in the world, but standing in the middle of the appliance aisle, surrounded by rows of gleaming ovens, Jason felt something close to domestic bliss. It was ridiculous, really—just another errand, a mundane task—but to him, it was the first brushstroke on the canvas of a life they were building together. A home. One she would love. One she would fill with warmth and laughter.
It was dangerous how much he enjoyed this.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, watching Caitlin as she studied the oven displays with a little furrow of concentration between her brows. She was taking this seriously—opening doors, testing the weight, checking features—but all he could focus on was the way her fingers traced over the stainless steel, the way she bit her lip in thought, the way she fit so perfectly into this moment with him.
And if he just so happened to indulge in a little bit of depravity while they were at it? Well, no one had to know.
“What do you think of that one?” he asked for what had to be the eighth time, barely restraining a grin.
Caitlin paused mid-reach, narrowing her eyes at him. “Didn’t we already look at that one?”
“I don’t think so,” he said, feigning innocence.
“I’m pretty sure we did.”
“If we did, you should?—”
“Seriously?” She shot him a look, one eyebrow arched.
Jason chuckled, pulling a paint tray from the cart and handing it to her as if it were a baking pan. “Hey, I’m thirty-four. One day, I’ll be fifty-four. Ergonomics are important and should be something everyone checks.”
She rolled her eyes but took the tray anyway. “Fine, old fart—I'll do this just for you.”
“I appreciate it.”
And then she bent over.
Slowly.
Purposefully.
Jason felt every last shred of self-control snap like a brittle twig as she slid the fake pan into the oven, the snug fit of her Wrangler jeans leaving absolutely nothing to his imagination. His breath hitched, and for a long, helpless moment, all he could do was stand there, arms crossed, drinking in the view like a dying man in the desert.
She paused.
He knew it the second she caught on.
Still bent over, she turned her head, looking at him over her shoulder, lips pursed, eyes narrowing with accusation.
“You’re impossible,” she hissed, amusement and exasperation warring in her voice.
“Impossibly attracted,” he corrected, unable to keep from smiling as she straightened, shaking her head with a laugh.
“Hang on,” he said, schooling his face into mock seriousness. “Thanksgiving is serious business—put that ‘pan’ back in the oven. The turkey is still baking.”
Caitlin smirked, placing a hand on her hip. “I think the ‘turkey’ is completely baked in more ways than one.”
Jason barked out a laugh. “You have no idea.”
She studied him for a second, tilting her head like she was weighing whether or not to push him further. Then, lips twitching, she asked, “Did you enjoy the view?”
Jason exhaled, shaking his head in surrender. “I’ll be dreaming of it for weeks.”
She hummed in response, tapping her fingers against the oven door before turning back to him. “So, is this the one you want?”
“Truthfully?” he hedged.
Caitlin crossed her arms. “Yeah?”
“I liked the first one.” He shrugged, deadpan. “They’re all the same to me.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then—
“Oh my gosh.” Caitlin threw her hands in the air, laughter bursting from her lips as she spun in place, gesturing wildly at the other ovens. “I’ve just opened and shut six of them—maybe ten of them! And you’re telling me you don’t even care?”
Jason smirked. “Not true. I care very much.”
She glared at him, jabbing a finger toward the oven she’d just tested. “If you aren’t picky and want top-of-the-line, then I think you should get this one.”
Jason tilted his head, playing dumb. “This one?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
Caitlin narrowed her eyes. “Should I test the oven once more?” she teased – and the slow, wicked grin that spread across his face had her rolling her eyes before he even said a word.
“Please do, Catnip.” His voice was low, teasing, but there was something softer beneath it. Something real.
Caitlin laughed, ducking her head as a flush crept into her cheeks. “Just for you,” she murmured, shaking her head fondly. “Are you ready?” she asked, her voice laced with amusement.
Jason locked eyes with her, his heart thudding in his chest, the playful warmth between them settling into something deeper.
“You have my complete attention.”
And he meant it.
Jason sighed happily once again, admiring and marveling at the woman before him. Yeah, she was stunningly beautiful to him but the fact that she was playing along with him, giving him this moment to enjoy an unobstructed view like this – especially when it was something so personal – and she was doing this for him.
She was the best person, an incredible girlfriend, and a phenomenal human being.
“We’ll take this one,” he said happily, sighing once more and not even bothered by her amused laughter as she turned to hug him, her face bright red with embarrassment. They stood there, sharing a moment, and he knew this was going to be the first of many between them.
“You’re the best, Catnip…” he breathed into her hair, kissing those locks as he hugged her once more.
Was this what falling for someone was like? Because if so, he was sinking fast.
And he never wanted to be saved.