“I’d like to kiss you now.” It was not a request. No, it was a declaration.
“Okay.” She raised her face to his, meeting him in the middle. Wrong answer, her inner voice of reason screamed.
His phone rang.
They both ignored it.
His hand moved from her palm to her jaw, his fingertips rubbing the soft spot underneath her earlobe before diving into her hair. Their mouths met, the warmth spreading from his hand in her hair to her stomach.
He made a noise in the back of his throat. A growl. An invitation to deepen the kiss. She flicked her tongue against his and then she was gone.
The slow burn turned hungry, and his lips pressed harder, his hands tilting her head exactly where he wanted it. He controlled everything—the pressure, the fire. And she let him. The relief of letting go of the control she’d been holding so tightly washed over her. She was simply along for the ride.
Jase closed the distance between them, running his hands over her shoulders and down her sides, leaning forward to rest them on her hips. He inhaled the scent of her and buried his nose in her hair. “What do you say, let’s have some fun together?”
She melted against him. Her fingers crept up under his T-shirt to trace the ridges of his abs. Blood pooled in her core, and he caught her mouth with his.
“I think I’ve forgotten how to have fun,” she said against his lips.
“Then I’ll show you.” His mouth pressed against hers, showing her just what a good teacher he could be.
He pulled away and lifted her chin so she had to look at him. “We’re about to have a hell of a good time.”
“I can be fun,” she said. She used to be hella fun.
“Damn straight you can.” He kneeled before her chair and held her thighs around his hips. His hands found the hem of her shirt and moved up under it to her bra. “Lace is my favorite.”
Hers, too, right then.
He pulled down the cup on the right side, his palm covering her nipple. She moaned. He worked her neck over with his mouth while he toyed with her breast.
She pulled him tighter with her thighs. “Should we go to the bed?”
He glanced to her bedroom door across the room. “Too far,” he replied. “Here’s good.”
“The sofa?” Her voice was breathy.
“Negative,” he replied.
“Jase?”
“Hmm?”
She stopped kissing him. “I don’t think this location is going to work.”
“Then you need to have more faith in me.” He went back to business, and, damn, maybe he did know what he was doing.
She buried her face in his neck.
His phone rang again.
“You should get that.” She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear.
“They’ll call back,” he said as his phone chimed with about a dozen messages all in a row.
She raised her eyebrows at him.
“Someone better be dead,” he mumbled, and, resigned, he snagged his phone from his pocket.
His expression went chalky. He held the screen up to her, a text from his sister: Babushka. Emergency. Now. Not a drill.
10
Chapter Ten
“You called me here because Babushka’s got a boyfriend?” Jase could’ve shaken his sister. Brother. Mother. Father.
He’d had sex in a lot of places, but he’d never done it on a kitchen chair before. It was official, he’d just been cock-blocked by his grandmother.
Didn’t they know he had a life? Of course they didn’t. This was how his family worked—they had to have a meeting of the minds over everyone else’s business. He’d been the subject of plenty of these powwows. They’d wanted him to take his cousin Amanda to the prom in high school, and they had a family meeting to discuss it. They hadn’t been thrilled when he enlisted, and they had a meeting to tell him so. The meeting after he told them he’d decided to be an EOD tech had been…explosive, to say the least. And after his divorce, they made it a point to have semiannual meetings to check in on his dating life.
Hell, he practically got hives every time he set foot in his mother’s special sitting room. They only utilized the space for important guests and family meetings—their mother deemed the furniture too nice for everyday use. Especially when it came to her children who were “hellions on fine leather.”
Though, apparently, fancy furniture was the perfect backdrop for dissecting everyone else’s personal shit.
His brother Zach sat on the couch across from Babushka, arms dangling over his knees. “She’s got a boyfriend and she gave him half a million dollars.”
Every muscle in Jase’s body tensed. “Say again?”
“You heard me.” Zach shifted and sprawled across the sofa earning a stern look from their mother.
She never talked much at these meetings. Oh, she called them, but then she’d sit back and let everyone else hash out details. Mama was the kind of woman who bottled her feelings up and then let them explode all over an unsuspecting child later.
“Babushka, tell me you didn’t do this.” Jase sat next to his grandmother on the love seat.
She didn’t respond.
She had dumped the contents of her purse on the coffee table and did her best to ignore everyone while she sorted her things into piles. This wasn’t his first rodeo.
“I know you’re listening, the jig is up,” he whispered close to her ear.
“It vas loan,” she huffed.
“Mamochka, you cannot hand out money this way.” His father was in his let’s-try-to-reason-this mode. That wouldn’t last long. It never did when he wasn’t getting his way. “This man, he only wants you for your bank account. He does not have feelings for you.”
“Not true.” Babushka continued sorting. “He vants me for things I do not discuss vith my son.”
She didn’t mean. No, she couldn’t mean…
“Does she mean—?” Anna started to ask.
“Sex,” the nearly one-hundred-year-old woman said as though it were her order at Olive Garden.
Jase’s stomach flipped right over, threatening to empty on his mother’s favorite Persian rug. His father paled. Mama’s cheeks burned pink and Anna snort-coughed into her hand.
Zach groaned and held a sofa pillow over his face. “Someone suffocate me.”
“It vas business loan. Morty vill pay back. He promise me.” Apparently, satisfied with her piles, Babushka scooped them back into the gigantic Louis Vuitton she hauled around.
The doorbell chimed a loud brrrong.
“I got it.” Zach bounded off the couch, the bastard taking the escape the rest of them wished they could.
“Zat is my car.” Already on her feet, Babushka slung her purse over her shoulder.
“You can’t leave. We’re in the middle of a family meeting.” His father ran a hand over the back of his neck—a sure tell his temper was about to boil over if things didn’t turn his way.
The reasonable portion of the evening was about to end. Jase had been on the receiving end of his father’s temper more than once. He could see how the rest of the meeting would play out. His mother would say nothing. Anna and Zach would try to smooth things over. His father would say things he’d regret tomorrow. Jase would be the one left to figure out how to get half a million dollars back from some schmuck taking advantage of an old woman.
“I vill be staying vith friend who understand Morty is not bad man.” Babushka nodded along with herself. “I vill get my bag.”
“Jase, your ex-girlfriend is here,” Zach announced from the hallway.
Jase turned as Heather sauntered into the room. Shit a brick. What was she doing in the middle of his family drama?
“Sorry to interrupt.” Heather glanced around the room, uncertain.
She’d changed into a pair of yoga pants that fit her oh-so nice and a loose T-shirt that wasn’t tight enough at all. Once his family shit was sorted, he’d take pleasure in removing it for her. She’d also ponytailed her
hair. He’d make sure to remedy that so it fell around her shoulders.
“Heather.” Jase scooted around the love seat to where she shifted on her feet. “What are you doing here?”
“Babushka texted me. She said she was ill and needed me to come by.” She leaned closer so only he could hear. “After that other message you showed me, I was worried.”
The last thing he needed was for Heather to see his dysfunctional family in action. By his calculations, they were only moments away from his father losing his shit all over everyone in the immediate vicinity.
Even worse, Jase didn’t need the family meeting to swing in the direction of his personal business.
“This is the girl who broke your heart? You didn’t mention she was hot. Heather, if you feel the desire to try out another Dvornakov, I’m available.” Zach raised his hand.
Anna smacked him on the back of his head. “Shut up, idiot. You have a girlfriend.”
Jase chose to ignore his siblings. “Babushka isn’t sick. She’s just lost her mind.” With a hand on Heather’s back, he led her out to the hallway by the door. “This is family stuff. Trust me, you don’t want to be in the middle of it.”
Heather’s expression went blank. “She asked me to come. Can I at least see her? Make sure she’s okay?”
Babushka rolled her suitcase toward them. “Heather, good, you are here. I vill stay vith you for a vhile.”
Heather’s eyes went wide, a confused expression aimed his way. She cleared her throat. Twice. “I’m—I’m sorry. I’m confused. You said you weren’t feeling well?”
“I am fine. My family, not so much.” Babushka waved to the sitting room. “I vill stay vith you until I am dead. It should not be long.”
And…they were at the death declarations portion of the evening.
Heather cleared her throat again. Then she glanced between the two of them.
“She can’t stay with you,” Jase said. Enough was enough. “Babushka, stop being unreasonable and break up with your boyfriend.”
“You finally agreed to go out with Morty?” Heather grinned wide. “That’s fantastic.”
“You know about this?” A heavy weight settled in Jase’s gut, every alarm bell in his head ringing that this wasn’t going to end well.
“Well, yeah. He owns…you know what? Never mind.” Heather crossed her arms, stretching the T-shirt tight across her breasts.
He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted by a nice rack.
“Did she also tell you she gave him five hundred thousand dollars?” Jase asked.
“Um. No.” At least she had the decency to look concerned. She turned to Babushka. “Why would you do that?”
“Business investment. My business, no one else’s.” Babushka harrumphed and patted the suitcase she’d wheeled behind her.
“Did you at least look over his books first? Make sure he’s legit?” Heather asked in total seriousness. Which was ridiculous because nothing Babushka could say would make this situation okay.
“Of course I did. I am not idiot.”
“And you have a payment plan or something in writing?” Heather continued her line of questioning.
“Attorney draws up all papers.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Heather asked Jase.
“What’s the problem?” he repeated. She couldn’t be serious.
Heather stared at him, clearly not getting the problem.
“The problem is she’s dating a man and dishing out a fortune to him.”
“It sounds like the dating and the loan are totally separate. Is that right, Babushka?” Heather asked, dipping her toe straight into the idiocy of his family. She had no idea the undertow was about to drag her down.
“Yes. Of course. Sex has nothing to do vith money,” Babushka confirmed.
Jase’s body did that weird tensing thing again and his eye twitched.
His father chose that moment to check on things out in the hallway. “For the love of all things holy. Mamochka.” His voice raised two ticks higher. “I forbid you to see this man again.”
“You cannot tell me vat to do. You are son. I am mother.” Babushka pressed her index finger at her chest.
“I said I forbid this nonsense.” There it was, the red cheeks, his father’s forbidding everything—they were at the final countdown for Mount Vesuvius to blow his top and take out the town of Pompeii.
“Forbid all you vant. I live life my vay.” Babushka crossed her arms in defiance.
“This is my house. You live here? You break up with him.” His father’s tone rose steadily with the red in his face.
Jase could relate to how he was feeling at the moment.
“Zen I vill not live here.” Babushka grabbed Heather’s arm and tried to usher her toward the door. “That is settled. Ve vill go now.”
“You may not go.” His father’s voice practically rattled the china.
Heather stood still, her face an expressionless wasteland. Welcome to the family. Pull up a chair and grab a tumbler of vodka.
“I vill go.” Babushka raised her chin and tugged at Heather’s arm. “Be a dear and get my bag.”
Heather didn’t move.
“I forbid it.” His father kept the slightest tether on his anger. He’d raised his voice only slightly.
Jase was ready to sign on for another tour in the desert of Afghanistan just to get a vacation from this bullshit.
Babushka firmed her Russian backbone and stood tall. “You keep saying this thing. ‘I forbid. I forbid.’ It means nothing. You go forbid vat you vant and I vill do vat I vant. Everyone vill be happy.”
His father cursed wildly under his breath in Russian before he turned and marched down the hallway.
“I vill vait in car,” Babushka announced and yanked open the door, the wheels on her suitcase squeaking behind her.
“This. This right here is why you don’t get involved in family shit.” Jase turned to Heather.
“Are you mad because she has a boyfriend or because she made a business deal without asking first?” Heather asked.
“You don’t get this. Of course you don’t.” He ran a hand over his hair. This was not how the evening was meant to go.
“What does that mean, ‘of course I don’t’?” She mimicked him, poorly.
“C’mon, Heather, it’s not like you’re in a place to discuss relationship dynamics.” He scraped a hand over his face.
Her expression went slack, and her eyes flared.
“I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant,” he amended quickly. He meant she didn’t understand his family’s relationship dynamics. Fuck, he didn’t understand his family. “Your family is all normal. My family is…well…” He tilted his head toward the room housing said family.
“No, I know what you meant.” The column of her throat pulsed as she swallowed hard. “I should go. She shouldn’t wait out there by herself.”
“Heather, I didn’t mean it like that. Really.” He tried to extract his foot from his mouth.
Heather bit her lip. “Okay, but I should still…go.”
“Right. Yeah.” He nodded.
She hurried out the door, leaving him alone in the foyer.
His mother stood alone in the doorway to the family room and just shook her head.
Jase rubbed the headache that brewed beneath his skull. This is why you don’t get involved in family shit. He repeated it to himself over and over.
11
Chapter Eleven
Senior “Senior” Prom Countdown: 20 Days
Originally, Heather was on the fence about letting Babushka stick around at her apartment. Turned out, Babushka was a pretty freaking awesome roommate.
Case in point? The laundry Babushka had washed, folded, and put away for Heather. Yes, she had rearranged all of Heather’s drawers in the process, but it’d been a week and Heather hadn’t had to touch the washing machine. It would take Heather a bit to grow accustomed to having her lingerie moved to the bottom drawer of her dress
er, but she’d get used to it.
Not that she took advantage of the old woman. Babushka just always got to the laundry first. And the dishes. And the woman cooked like a dream. Heather slogged up the stairs after work every afternoon and Babushka had dinner ready for her.
Heather had told her repeatedly she didn’t have to do it. But who was she to ruin the woman’s happiness? If making Heather piroshki and potato pancakes was her thing, Heather could be totally on board.
And she’d shared her recipes with Candy and the other bakers. Which meant, Heather was selling the hell out of some cookies.
To top it all off, Babushka also taken over personally hawking prom tickets to anyone over the age of fifty-five who came within a five-foot radius of the cookie shop.
A knock at the door and Heather stood from the table. “I’ve got it.”
“No. No. You sit.” Babushka shuffled past Heather to the front door. “You have vork. I vill answer.”
Heather had spent the morning getting donations for her prom project. She went back to her notepad of patrons, marking who had agreed to donate what.
Babushka pulled open Heather’s front door. Jase stood on the other side.
“Enough is enough, I’ve come to bring you home,” he declared to his grandmother.
Oh. Hell no.
Heather moved to head off the swiping of the babushka. “Jase. Hello. Come in. Have some golubzi.”
He sucked in air. “Shit. She’s turned you.”
“Mouth.” Babushka patted his cheek. “Cuss in Russian, like a good boy.”
“Gav-no,” he replied, stepping into the apartment.
Babushka’s smile would’ve been infectious if Jase weren’t there to steal her back.
“What happened in here?” He glanced around the rearranged apartment.
“Your grandmother feng shui’d me.” And Heather liked it.
Blow Me Away: A Mile High Matched Novel, Book 2 Page 9