Page 58 of Come Fly with Me

“Okay,” I reply, nodding my head. A shiver of excitement and nervousness runs down my spine. It’s been a long time since I dove into the relationship world, and as much as I’m all in with Jake, it’s still a scary feeling.

I pull in my driveway with Jake pulling in behind me, and I flag him in as I open the garage door. My two-car garage is a luxury I thought I’d never see again, but when I moved back to the States, I scored a hell of a deal on my townhouse.

“Check you out, Captain. A garage with room for two,” Jake teases when he exits his car.

“You wanna know the truth on this place?” I ask him, raising my eyebrows, my nose wrinkling up.

Jake nods his head slowly, but the look on his face says he’s torn as he looks me over like what I’m about to say can be plucked out of my head.

I hit the button closing the garage door and we enter the house. Jake’s reaction is that of pretty much everyone who has seen my house. He looks around, his mouth falling open because what I own in the California real estate market should be worth well over a million dollars.

“Well, this explains why you didn’t even think for a second about that nineteen-hundred-dollar-a-night hotel room.”

Jake doesn’t bother to hide his shock or his comments, and for some reason it makes me like him even more. Most would gossip and speculate. Not Jake, he just comes right out and asks.

“The hotel room was because I wanted to get you in the sack.” I wink at him, setting my bag down and slipping my arms around his waist.

“You didn’t need to drop that kind of money to get me in the sack. I would’ve done it with you in the back of a car.”

“I know you would’ve, but we didn’t have a car, and I wasn’t about to go traipsing all over Waikiki to find a budget motel. Besides, one day it will be a great story we can tell people.”

“Did Taylor Patterson just allude to a future with me?” Jake steps back, feigning surprise, a hand over his heart.

“Maybe.”

We walk into my kitchen, the oversized island decorated and lined with four dozen low-trimmed pale pink roses in wide-mouthed squat vases. I take in a deep breath, my shoulders rising and falling as I take in the scene before me. A smile forms involuntarily, and when I look over at Jake, he’s watching me.

“Care to explain?”

Our conversations are all over the place, but something about it seems so natural, so normal.

“The woman who lived here before me was named Rose, and whenever I know I’m going to be home, I have four dozen roses delivered to my house in her honor.” I say it with finality, like it’s totally normal to pay homage to the previous owner. “My neighbor checks on my house when I’m gone. She takes in the delivery and makes sure they’re in my house when I get home.”

Jake rolls a hand as if to tell me to keep talking because he knows there’s more to all of this.

“You sure you want me to continue?” I ask, a teasing quality to my voice as I open the fridge and pull out two pre-packaged breakfasts. “Do you want the egg white veggie omelet with wheat toast or the breakfast burrito with potatoes, avocado and salsa?” I hold out the two containers to him, and he’s still eyeing me suspiciously. “When I know I’m not going to be home long, I have my meals delivered by a company who does the cooking for me.” I shrug my shoulders and hand him the burrito, not waiting for him to respond.

“You really have your shit together,” he replies, taking the burrito and popping it into the microwave.

“You kind of have to when you’re never home. I want my home to feel different than when I’m traveling. I want it to be a place I love to be at, and by ordering flowers and having food here when I arrive, it makes it more…”

“Like home,” Jake says, finishing my sentence.

“Exactly.”

“It’s a hell of a home.” He looks around again, and I laugh realizing we still haven’t gotten to the story of how I ended up here.

The microwave chimes, and I pull out Jake’s burrito and put in the omelet. Passing it to him, he takes a seat on one of the stools at the island. As I wait for my breakfast to heat up, I fill him in on how I scored this great place.

“So, here’s the story. I had been living in Costa Rica for a while and decided it was time to move back to the US. As you know, being a pilot generally means we’re commuters, so it didn’t really matter where I ended up, but after living in Costa Rica, I knew any place where there could be snow was out.”

“You’re stalling, Taylor,” Jake jokes, and I am, but only to add a little mystery to an already mysterious story.

Smirking at him, I continue, but this time jumping right in. “The old owner died in the house.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Someone died in my house, so I got it for half a million under asking price.”

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