Wanted: A Real Family. Karen Smith Rose

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.”

      As they walked toward the main house, Sara looked out over the vineyard. It was an absolutely beautiful setting. Jase had once told her it encompassed over two hundred acres. Clover covered some fields. Lush green was everywhere, from the trees and shrubs, to the trellises of grapevines. There were deep, rich scents here, from the earthy damp ground to the roses. It was crazy, but she almost felt like a different person here. Maybe she and Amy had made a mistake by staying in the house that Conrad had bought them to the detriment of them all. When she’d married Conrad, she’d loved him in a naive, too-trusting way. Over the course of her marriage, she’d explicitly learned how one-sided trust could destroy everything.

      Although she was close by Sara’s side, Amy nevertheless seemed eager to follow Jase. She was used to other kids being around her in day care, but as for adults, mostly women were in and out of her life. In the past year, Sara hadn’t thought about it much, but male role models were important to little girls, too.

      Stone steps led to the polished walnut back door of the main house. Jase opened it and they stepped inside a cavernous kitchen. This room held none of the warmth of the cottage, though it did have a brick fireplace with a rounded arch and fire screen. The appliances were shiny stainless steel and they looked as if they, too, had been replaced recently. The granite counters gleamed and the copper pots hanging from the ceiling above the sink looked as if they’d never been used. There weren’t any colorful place mats on the oak pedestal table, or flowered curtains at the windows. The blinds were tilted closed, not letting in much light.

      Jase pointed to the counter and the glass-domed dish. The sweet rolls were a confectioner’s delight and Amy’s eyes grew wide along with her smile.

      “Can I, Mommy?”

      “Sure, you can. But I think we’ll need plenty of napkins to go along with the sweet roll.”

      Jase pulled dishes from a cupboard and a few napkins from another. They all sat at the table. Amy was happily biting into jelly, sweet icing and pastry when Jase said, “In your interview, I heard you lost your husband a year ago. I’m sorry.”

      Sara tore off a piece of a roll but suddenly had no appetite for it. Thanks to real-time research, the journalist who’d interviewed her had already known much of her background. “Yes, it was a year ago.”

      “Was it sudden?” Jase prompted.

      “A heart attack.”

      Jase’s expression turned questioning, so she added, “He was fifteen years older than I was. Forty-four. The doctor said whatever triggered it might have been a congenital abnormality.”

      And physically, she knew that was certainly true. But the stress in his life definitely hadn’t helped. She tried to keep herself from feeling guilty, but she was to blame, too—for being so blind. She hadn’t known he’d taken on a supersized mortgage. She hadn’t known about his credit card debt. As a new wife, first pregnant and then busy with an infant as well as work, she’d let Conrad handle their finances. She hadn’t asked enough questions. She’d trusted too much.

      Jase’s eyes were kind as he looked at her, and her heart started thumping faster as she thought she saw more than kindness there.

      Unexpectedly, Amy laid very sticky fingers on Jase’s shirtsleeve and asked, “Can I have some milk?”

      “Oh, Amy.” Grape jelly streaked the white fabric of Jase’s shirt. Over the years, Sara had found men didn’t like the messiness of kids. Conrad had never wanted to feed Amy himself when she was a baby, so it was automatic for Sara to jump up, grab a napkin and try to fix the mess. Had she resented that he didn’t seem to love their daughter as much as she did?

      She dabbed at Jase’s sleeve, smearing the jelly more. Her fingers slipped from the material to his arm. His skin was hot, his hair rough, and when she met his gaze—

      The inordinate silence when their awareness of each other took hold was enough to rattle her bones.

      “Mommy, I’m sorry,” Amy wailed.

      Sara knew she was making a mess of this whole thing. She wrapped her arm around her daughter. “It’s okay. We’ll wash Mr. Cramer’s shirt. We’ll fix this.”

      Jase clasped her shoulder. “It’s okay. Relax. It’s just a shirt.”

      He addressed Amy. “Sticky fingers and sweet rolls