Chapter 18

It was heartwarming to watch Jameson and Owen interact. He was so patient with him. And I could tell that Jameson wanted Owen to feel good about accomplishing these tasks. Eric didn't think it was important for Owen to learn how to cut down a tree or change a tire. But there was so much more to it, a sense of responsibility, independence, and confidence.

Why hadn't I thought of those traits when I met and fell for Eric? I think I was looking for safety and security, and Eric represented that financially. I could count on him to come home at the end of the day and pay for the mortgage. But I'd forgotten the most important piece of all—the emotional one.

When we reached the truck, Owen helped Jameson get the tree into the back.

At this point, most everyone had chosen a tree and were working on wrangling them into the various pickup trucks we'd driven up here.

Al paused in front of us. "We're going to head home, eat some leftovers for lunch, and then open the farm for the day. You're welcome to join us."

"I'd love turkey leftovers. Those are my favorite."

"We have so much; we can even wrap up a bit to take home with you," Daphne called over to us.

"That would be amazing. Thank you."

Al smacked his palm on the truck. "Let's head back. Customers will be here before we know it."

"I'm so glad we got our tree early this year," Fiona said when she passed us.

Aiden walked a little more slowly, dragging a large tree behind him.

Jameson whistled as he rushed to help him. "Where are you putting that bad boy?"

"Fiona wants to put it in the new house. The great room has high ceilings."

"The construction's going to be done in time for Christmas?" Jameson asked as he helped him maneuver the tree into the back of his truck.

Aiden gestured at Fiona. "If not, this one is going to move in with a sleeping bag."

Fiona grinned and kissed him. "You know you love me."

He caught her with a hand on her hip and brought her into his body. "I do."

"Let us know if you need any help setting up the tree," Jameson said as we got into his dad's truck.

Al dropped us off at the cottage so we could gather up our things. Then we walked to the main house.

When Jameson interlaced his hand with mine, my heart did a little flip.

"I know we said we'd keep this open-ended but—"

"Are you asking if you can see me again?" I asked him, thinking his hesitation was adorable. I liked that I got to this man who came across as confident.

He nodded.

"I don't see why not. Unless you think we should keep it quiet from the team?"

"I think we can spend time together but not let anyone at practice or games know."

"That's fair. I wouldn't want to jeopardize either of our jobs or your coaching position."

Jameson grinned, looking lighter than I'd ever seen him. "Thanks for coming. I had a great time."

I laughed. "I bet you did."

He tugged on my hand until I fell into his body, his expression somber. "This is real for me. I'm not in this just for the physical. I mean, that part is amazing, but I'm here for everything else: you, your amazing kid, and all the other things in between."

"I think that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Get used to it, baby. I've been storing up all this love for a lifetime, and you're the lucky recipient." Jameson slipped right into his charming persona, but I thought it was genuine.

"I do feel lucky to have met you. I wasn't looking for anything. I figured I'd be single for a while after the divorce."

"Then your son set a fire, and you couldn't help but fall for the smoking hot firefighter?"

I laughed. "Something like that."

We resumed walking, Jameson swinging our joined hands. "I'm digging this story. Our kids are going to love it."

He said it in an off-hand manner, and I wondered if he was serious. Did he see this as something that could last? Did he want kids? Did I? I thought I was done with Owen. But watching Jameson interact with Owen had the wheels in my head turning.

What would it be like to raise a child with an involved father? One who wanted to be there every step of the way? Who wanted to raise good human beings? It would be nice not to have all the responsibility.

We stepped onto the porch, and I had a flash of a dark-haired boy with hair flopping over his forehead, Jameson's mischievous eyes and charm.

Jameson squeezed my hand and asked, "What were you thinking about? You went all soft."

"I was thinking about what it would be like to have more kids. That was something I thought wouldn't happen for me."

The door opened, and Al popped his head out. "Are you two coming inside? Soon, there won't be anything left."

Jameson dropped my hand, jogging up the steps to hold the door for me. "Stop eating all the turkey."

He dropped his bag by the door, and I followed him to the dining room where everyone was eating off paper plates.

Al gestured at the table where everything had been laid out on platters and bowls. "It's every man and woman for themselves."

Jameson winked at me. "Welcome to the Calloways. Eat fast."

He grabbed plates, handing me one. We piled our plates high.

I was ravenous after the hike. I was tired and sore in a good way. I couldn't remember when I'd had a better time.

Once everyone had eaten their fill, then grabbed slices of pie, Al stood, and said, "Let's put the open sign up. Can you post on social media, Daphne?"

"On it," Daphne said.

Fiona stood to gather plates. "We'll clean up. Everyone else can take care of the farm."

"Let's head down the lane and make sure there aren't any slick spots," Al said to Teddy.

I moved to clear the dishes, but Owen stopped me with a hand on my arm. "Can I stay and help? I know I wasn't scheduled to volunteer today. But I'm already here."

"If that's okay with the Calloways," I said, looking around for Jameson who was emptying the garbage in the kitchen.

"I don't mind. We can use all the hands we can get. Our high-school volunteer called out because of the weather. We'll be busier than ever since we're getting a late start."

"Do you want me to stop at home and grab a change of clothes?" I asked Owen.

Owen shrugged. "I don't care."

Jameson tied off the bag and stopped by us. "Why don't you head home, do whatever you have to do, and I'll drop him and your tree off tonight."

"That would be great." I'd almost forgotten that we needed to get the tree home.

Wes headed toward the door. "I'll take him to the barn and get him set up."

"Be good," I called after Owen. When they were gone, I asked Jameson, "Are you sure this is okay? I don't want to intrude."

Daphne and Fiona were in the kitchen, but the other guys had all made their way outside.

"I love having Owen here," Jameson said, and his tone was so sincere; I believed him.

"Thank you."

Jameson tipped his head to the side and laughed. "For what?"

"I don't know." I looked away and then back at him. He was so attractive, so sweet and genuine, it was hard to look directly at him. "For being you."

He laughed and shook his head. "I haven't heard that one before."

I squeezed his arm. "Get used to it. Because I think you're great."

Jameson lowered the bag to the floor, then glanced around, probably to ensure his sisters weren't nearby, then kissed me. "I think you're great too."

We pulled apart when we heard a gagging sound.

"I'm happy for you guys. Truly. But I don't want to see my brother making out in the dining room. I have to eat here for holidays—" Before Daphne could finish listing the items on her fingers, Jameson hooked her around the neck and gave her a noogie, "Brat."

Daphne squealed as she twisted away from him. Then she swatted at him. "Now get out of here. We need to clean up, and we can't do that if you're distracting Claire."

* * *

At home, I spent the rest of the day catching up on chores. I cleaned the house, started laundry, went grocery shopping, grabbed a tree stand, and graded papers. I'd just started dinner when I heard the rumble of a truck outside. I moved to the door, eager to see Owen and Jameson.

They carried the tree to the porch and leaned it against the siding. "We just need to trim the trunk. Then we'll bring it inside. Set the tree stand where you want us to put it."

"I have it set up in front of the window." I gestured at the bay window.

"That's good," Jameson said as he handed Owen the saw and asked him to trim an inch off the bottom. "This will allow the trunk to absorb water."

When the tree was trimmed, I propped the door open so they could carry it inside. It smelled like pine needles. "I never realized how much I love this scent."

Jameson grinned. "It's the best part of having a real tree."

They got it settled in the base, and Jameson held it while Owen screwed it in.

I loved that Jameson trusted Owen enough to let him take the lead on things like this. I could see Owen's confidence growing every day. It made me appreciate Jameson's role in our life even more.

"You want to decorate it?" Jameson asked me.

"Dinner's in the oven. I'll need to check on it, but we can get a head start on trimming the tree." I moved toward the boxes I'd brought up from the basement earlier in the afternoon, opened the flaps, and pulled out the lights.

Owen took the strings from me and worked to untangle them.

For the first time in forever, I was excited to decorate the tree. It didn't feel like one more thing I had to check off the to-do list.

"You want to start at the bottom zig-zagging the lights through the tree quadrants, placing some deep and others on the edge of the branches to create depth," Jameson told Owen.

I laughed. "I didn't know there was an art to it."

Jameson winked at me. "There's most definitely an art to holiday decorating."

"It must be in your blood," I teased.

"My mom loved the holidays. She was the one who decorated the house from top to bottom and insisted that the porch be decorated, not only for the customers who visited the farm, but for us. She didn't want us to get tired of the season because we sold trees." Jameson's tone was affectionate.

"She sounds like a wonderful woman," I said as I pulled out ornaments and carefully placed them on the coffee table to hang once the lights were strung.

Jameson nodded, his face turned toward the tree. "She was."

Owen cleared his throat, feeding the next set of lights to him. "I'm sorry you lost your mother."

"It was a long time ago. I was around your age. It was hard, but I had my dad and my siblings. I didn't go through it alone."

I felt a sharp stab of pain in my side. I hoped Owen didn't worry that something would happen to me. If it did, he would be alone since he didn't have any siblings.

Jameson placed the last strand of lights, then gestured toward Owen. "Why don't you turn it on so we can see how it will look?"

He eagerly flipped the switch, and we took in the sight of the tree in the window. Anyone could see it from the street, but it cast a warm glow on our small living room.

I already had a fire started in the fireplace and soft music playing from my phone.

"I almost forgot. I brought you some garland for your mantle and the windowsills," Jameson said moving toward the door.

"Oh, you didn't have to do that."

"Dad insisted," Jameson said as he left the house, presumably to grab it from his truck.

"Did you have fun working at the farm today?" I asked Owen as I started to hang the ornaments on the tree.

"It was really busy. I didn't realize so many people buy trees."

"I didn't either. But it makes sense. They want to get a head start on the season."

"It's nice." Owen shook his head and chuckled. He always teased me for worrying about things like throw pillows on the couch or the color of the walls. "Dad probably won't even put up a tree."

"Maybe you could ask him to when you're there." I hesitated to suggest things like this, but it was Christmas. Owen deserved a warm atmosphere in both of our houses.

The door opened again. "It's getting colder out there. I wonder if we're going to get more snow and ice this week."

"I hope so. I don't want to go to school."

"You just have to make it up in the summer," Jameson said as he arranged the garland on the mantle around our family pictures and candle holders. "You can probably do a better job than that."

I brushed him out of the way to fluff the garland and arrange it nicely around the frames. "There. That's better."

I placed the smaller pieces around the candles on the windowsills that I'd put out earlier in the day. "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas."

Owen groaned. "That was lame."

"I'm lame, huh?" I asked, enjoying spending time with Owen and Jameson.

"You know you are," Owen said, and Jameson responded, "You have a lot to learn about how to talk to your mother. I had sisters that taught me."

Owen sobered. "Sorry, Mom. You're the best. Really."

"Aww, thank you." He'd thanked me many times over the years. In some ways, he was more mature than other kids his age. I felt like he was forced to grow up a little more quickly. He didn't have any live-in playmates, and he spent most of his time with me.

Together, we worked to place the ornaments on the trees. Every once in a while, I'd mention that Owen had made the particular ornament in preschool or we'd bought it on vacation. It was a nice trip down memory lane, and Jameson seemed to enjoy our stories.

When dinner was ready, I kept it warming in the oven while we finished, then served it in the kitchen. I'd made an easy taco casserole that the guys devoured in seconds. "I guess you work up quite an appetite working on the farm."

"We had sandwiches at some point, but yeah, it's a lot of heavy lifting. It'll help build muscles; that's for sure," Jameson said as he cleared his dish, rinsing it, then placed it in the dishwasher.

"I'm going to take a shower," Owen said.

"Don't forget to put your dish away and thank Jameson for letting you help out today."

Owen gave me a sheepish look before he moved to comply.

Jameson leaned a hip against the counter, and Owen said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome on the farm anytime."

"Are you serious?" Owen asked, his expression hopeful.

"I don't say things I don't mean."

Eric promised to take Owen places, then later backed out saying he was too busy at work. I wasn't sure if Owen trusted Jameson to follow through yet. But hopefully, he'd see the proof.

"Don't forget to take a shower," I said to Owen as he left the room, and he mumbled, "Yeah, yeah."

"He's a great kid," Jameson said as I moved around him to scrub the casserole dish in the sink.

"Thanks for taking the time to show him things on the farm and with the tree. Owen is desperate for a father figure. I'm not even sure he realizes it, but he soaks everything up."

"I'm happy to do those things. You know I love kids."

"You have a way with them. You treat them like they are younger adults."

"Because they are," Jameson said, moving to dry the dishes I'd finished washing.

It felt foreign to have someone working next to me in the kitchen, but it was nice too. "You don't have to help clean up."

"I don't mind, and my mom raised me better than that. When she cooked, we all chipped in to clean up."

"I can see her hand in you. She raised you to be a good man."

He lowered the towel to the countertop. "You think so?"

"You're kind and thoughtful, and you take the time to show Owen how to be a good man too. I'd say so."

He handed me the towel so I could dry my hands. "I shouldn't need the praise, but I like it."

"Everyone needs it now and then."

Jameson gave me an apologetic look. "The next few weeks are going to be crazy between the farm, work, and the end of the football season."

"That's okay. I understand. It's crazy for everyone this time of the year. I can't even imagine trying to run a Christmas tree farm."

"On top of our usual season, we met with a marketing consultant to see if she can give us pointers on what we can do to increase income. Teddy's fighting her at every step, so it's just adding to the stress."

"You don't need to worry about us. We'll see you when you're free." We hadn't defined what we were, so I didn't have any expectations. Or I was trying hard not to.

"But I want you to make demands of me. I want to be the guy you can count on."

I smiled as he tugged me closer. "You already are. You invited us to your family's house for Thanksgiving, and then you helped us get a tree."

"I don't want things to come between us."

"They won't if we don't let it." But I had the same concerns. How long would we keep our relationship a secret from people at work and the team? I was almost afraid to ask. I didn't want to know his answer.

I couldn't help but think Jameson enjoyed spending time with us but wouldn't want to take our relationship to the next level. And I didn't want to be perceived as clingy, so I didn't ask for anything.

"I'll send you a schedule for Owen. You can drop him off with one of us, and we'll take care of him. I'll make sure it's not more than one or two nights a week. I don't want to interfere with school, and we already have practices and games."

With his hands on my hips, Jameson dropped his mouth to mine. We pulled away from each other when we heard a door close upstairs.

"I'll let you prepare for the week."

I followed him to the door, my heart hurting a bit. I had a feeling we wouldn't be seeing much of him until after the holidays. I wasn't sure what that would mean for us, but I was willing to wait and see what happened.

"Have a good week," Jameson said after he kissed me softly.

I closed the door behind him, wondering how I could be so attached to the idea of us so soon. I needed to be more cautious. I didn't know if Jameson wanted the same things I did, and I didn't want to make the same mistakes from my past.