Casa had been in the main house many times, although never into the rooms that made up Jason’s private space. The warm hand on his back guided him now toward a doorway, into a casual, tidy living area, softly lit with a table lamp beside a big recliner. The massive fireplace filled one end of the room, dark and cool now with summer coming on fast. The rest of the room held sturdy, simple, comfortable-looking furniture, a big shelf full of books, and a few pieces of art on the adobe-tan walls.
Casa recognized a Remington and a Russell, and a couple by regional artists whose work was catching on with a broader audience. The room reflected Jason—quality but quiet, completely southwestern with an eye toward comfort and peace rather than show. Casa nodded to himself. Yes, this is good; this is Jason. No surprises. I could fit in here after all, poor Tex-Mex cowboy that I am…
“Want a drink or have you had enough today?”