His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker.

Chapter 787 Jason’s Home

The cars pulled into a long gravel driveway, the rain finally beginning to lighten as they rolled to a stop.

The house emerged through the mist like something grown from the earth itself, built of warm honey-colored stone with a steep roof of dark cedar shingles and wide eaves that overhung the walls.

The windows were tall and arched, glowing with soft golden light from within, and a covered porch wrapped around the front, supported by rough-hewn wooden posts.

A swing hung from iron chains, and pots of herbs lined the steps, their leaves still wet from the rain. Smoke curled lazily from a stone chimney, carrying the scent of burning wood into the damp air.

The gravel crunched under the tires as Jason parked the car and jumped out, grinning despite the drizzle still falling on his shoulders and hair.

"Welcome to my humble abode!" he announced, spreading his arms wide like he was presenting a palace.

Dominique climbed out of the back seat, stretching his arms above his head and cracking his neck.

Geoffrey, Jason’s butler, stood on the porch with an umbrella, his posture perfect, his expression calm. He inclined his head slightly.

"Welcome back, Mr. King."

Dominique waved. "Good to see you, Geoffrey."

Jason introduced everyone as they climbed out of the cars, gesturing from person to person. Geoffrey nodded at each name, his kind eyes taking them in, memorizing faces.

The garden stretched along the side of the house, a patchwork of green and brown and bursts of color even in the rain. Tomatoes hung heavy on their vines, red, orange, and yellow, their skins beaded with water droplets. Beans climbed wooden trellises, their leaves still dotted with rain, and lettuce grew in neat rows, dark green and crisp.

Herbs spilled from wooden planters along the path, rosemary, thyme, basil and mint, their fragrance mixing with the smell of wet earth and fresh growth.

"The backyard has strawberries," Jason said proudly, pointing toward the rear of the house. "And a small orchard. Apples, pears, plums. Geoffrey makes jam from them. Best jam you’ve ever tasted."

Dominique nodded. "I’ve had it. It’s good. Not as good as my mother’s, but good."

Hazel raised an eyebrow. "You’ve been here before?"

Dominique stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Jason and I go way back. I’ve spent many weekends here. Geoffrey makes this incredible hot chocolate—"

"With homemade marshmallows," Jason added. "Geoffrey, we’re going to need hot chocolate later."

Geoffrey inclined his head with a slight smile. "Of course, sir."

Jason walked toward the front door, gesturing for everyone to follow. His boots squelched on the wet gravel and he did not seem to care about the mud splashing up his pants.

"My house is everything a person who watches those peaceful life videos could want," he said, his grin wide and proud. "You know the ones. Soft piano music, rain on the window, a fire crackling, and a cat sleeping on the rug."

Dominique shook his head. "You don’t have a cat."

"I have a dog."

"That’s not the same."

"Cheese is better than any cat. You’ll see. You’ve met Cheese, Dom. Tell them."

Dominique sighed. "Cheese is... enthusiastic."

As if on cue, a dog appeared around the side of the house, padding through the wet grass without a care.

Cheese was a golden retriever with a thick, fluffy coat the color of warm honey, his fur damp from the rain but still somehow shining. His tail wagged so hard his whole body wiggled and his tongue lolled out of his mouth in a happy pant. He looked at the group of strangers, sniffed the air, and then spotted Dominique.

His tail wagged faster, a blur of golden fur.

He ran to Dominique, barking happily.

WOOF. WOOF. WOOF.

"Cheese, stop!" Jason shouted.

Cheese did not stop. He jumped up, putting his paws on Dominique’s chest and licking his face with long, slobbery strokes.

Dominique stumbled back, laughing, trying to push the dog down. "Cheese! Down! Down, boy!"

Cheese wagged his tail and licked Dominique’s chin.

Jason grinned. "He remembers you."

"He remembers I give him treats."

"You spoil him."

"He deserves it."

Cheese finally calmed down, his tail still wagging, his tongue still lolling out as he panted happily. He looked at the rest of the group, sniffed the air around each of them, and decided they were acceptable. He trotted over to Winter, sniffed her hand, and licked it once.

Winter looked at her wet hand, then at Cheese, then at her hand again.

Jason watched her hopefully. "He likes you."

Winter said nothing. But she did not wipe her hand, and her dark eyes followed the dog as he trotted back toward the house.

Jason led them inside.

The front door opened into a large, open living space that felt like a warm embrace. The ceiling was high with dark wooden beams running across it, and a massive stone fireplace dominated one wall, its hearth wide enough to sit inside. A fire crackled behind the iron grate, casting warm flickering light across the room and chasing away the chill from the rain.

The furniture was comfortable and well worn, the kind of pieces that invited you to sink into them and stay awhile. A deep green velvet couch sat facing the fireplace, flanked by two leather armchairs that had softened with age. A stack of books rested on a low wooden table, their spines cracked from being read many times. A braided rug covered the floor, its colors faded but soft underfoot.

On the mantel sat photographs in simple frames. Jason with his parents at a race track. Jason holding a trophy, his face young and grinning. Jason with Cheese as a puppy, the golden retriever small enough to fit in his arms.

Dominique pointed at one of the photos. "I took that one."

Jason looked at it. "You did."

"It’s a good photo."

"It’s an okay photo."

Dominique crossed his arms. "It’s a great photo."

Jason shrugged. "It’s an okay photo."

Hazel watched them bicker, a small smile playing on her lips.