Blow Me Away: A sexy, friends to lovers rom com! (A Mile High Matched Novel Book 2)

by Christina Hovland

  Jase’s hand grazed her waist in a totally proprietary way that made her want to sigh and lean into him.

  “Heather!” someone called from the corner.

  She turned and couldn’t help but smile. Claire, Velma, and Candy had commandeered a corner booth.

  Jase nodded to the group. “Why don’t you go play with your friends? I’m going to go get shit-faced.”

  “That sounds like a healthy way to deal with what’s happened tonight.” Heather gave him her best don’t-do-anything-you’ll-regret look.

  “Sometimes avoidance is key to survival,” he said with a grunt and made a beeline for the bar.

  From behind the bar, Brek initiated some kind of elaborate handshake with him and poured a glass of whiskey. Jase snagged the bottle out of his hand and took a long pull, ignoring the filled glass in front of him.

  Heather’s lungs deflated. This was not healthy processing. She made a mental note to keep tabs on him tonight. Not that she expected he’d get in a fight or something equally as stupid, but her intuition flashed warning signals that he could use a wingman. Or wing-woman, in her case.

  Brek caught her eye and gave her a wink, like he’d read her mind and was already on it. Her insides twisted uncomfortably. She’d love to hand her concerns over to Brek, but something told her Jase needed her.

  “Don’t worry about Jase. Brek will handle whatever’s going on.” Velma came up beside her.

  “I’m not sure that’ll be possible.” Heather bit at her lip and sent up a silent prayer that Brek really could handle his best friend.

  “You’d be surprised what those boys manage.” Velma slipped her arm through Heather’s and pulled her to the table. “I’ve never seen him on a bottle-of-whiskey night, though.”

  “So, you and Jase? Round two?” Claire asked, toying with the cherry in the fruity concoction she held in one hand.

  Heather squirmed. What were she and Jase doing? Having fun. Yeah. Making out all over Denver. Check. But, really, she wanted to throw her hands in the air and ask the universe for some clarity. “Was there ever really a round one?” she asked.

  “Depends on who you ask.” Velma giggle-snorted.

  Three pairs of expectant eyes focused on Heather from around the booth.

  “I have no idea what we’re doing. We’re just…going with it.” Whatever it was.

  “Uh-huh.” Velma clearly wasn’t drinking the Kool-Aid. “Dish.”

  “We were going at it in an elevator earlier,” Heather supplied. She glanced around the table to her stunned friends. “I’m not one to kiss and tell, but I’m telling you that man can do things with his tongue that I didn’t know were possible.”

  “Holy crap.” Claire leaned forward. “How far did you two get?”

  “Top floor. Then we were interrupted. Then we gave up and came here.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here.” Velma patted Heather’s back.

  “What’s your poison?” Brek tossed a cocktail napkin down in front of her.

  “Soda water. With lime.” She forced a smile. Jase needed a grown-up around tonight, and, unfortunately, her instincts said she should be that grown-up. Which meant…sobriety.

  Brek glanced around the table, his gaze landing on Velma. “Everyone else good?”

  “Yup. Just your standard girls’ night. Not talking about Heather and Jase,” Claire chimed.

  “Way to be smooth,” Heather mumbled.

  “What the hell happened tonight that has him drinking his way to the bottom of the bottle?” Brek asked.

  “You do not want to know,” Heather replied. Hell, she’d give anything for herself not to know.

  “Go see what you can dig out of Jase, we’ll keep working on her,” Claire said before sipping on whatever concoction she had over ice.

  “We’ll dig it out of her. Now shoo, girls only.” Velma made a go-away motion with her hand. Brek chuckled and headed back to the bar. “If I can’t tease my husband, who can I tease?” Velma popped a cherry in her mouth.

  “You can tease me.” Eli, the fourth friend in the Jase-Brek-Dean-Eli quartet, slid a plate of nachos on the table and took the seat beside Candy.

  “I thought it was girls only tonight?” Velma went for a loaded chip. “I just made my husband leave.”

  Claire shrugged. “Eh, Eli’s just one of the girls. He can stay.”

  Brek returned and dropped Heather’s sad little soda water in front of her. “Something happened in Blackhawk. He said you were at the casino.”

  “You don’t want to know.” She squeezed the lime into the fizzing water. “You don’t want to know. I don’t want to know. Jase doesn’t want to know. And now I have to move away. Far, far away.” She took a sip, the bubbles tickling her nose.

  “Aw, c’mon, Jase can’t have scared you away that quickly.” Brek leaned against the side of the booth and crossed his arms so the muscles in his corded biceps bunched.

  “Okay, fine.” Might as well let everyone else in on their misery. “Babushka moved in with me because her family is all kinds of worked up that she has a boyfriend and she lent him some money.” No need to share the details of how much. “She and said-boyfriend decided to go to a weekend away at a casino up in Blackhawk. Jase insisted we chaperone. And we’re officially the worst chaperones in the history of chaperones.” She took a long pull of not-vodka’d seltzer. “So, they went to a movie. We played slots. Then we…ah…we kind of walked in on his grandmother in a clinch with her boyfriend. The boyfriend that I’d defended shortly before the…um…exhibition.” She took a quick glug of seltzer water and coughed.

  “Holy crap.” Candy paused her beer bottle halfway to her lips.

  “What kind of a clinch?” Velma asked, tipping her head to the side. “Clothes or no?”

  “Definitely no,” Heather confirmed.

  “What base?” Velma asked. “First, second?”

  Heather let out a huge sigh, blowing through her lips. “I think they’d rounded home long before we got there.”

  Claire’s expression froze. “I think that warrants running away.”

  Brek glanced back to the bar. “I don’t think I have enough whiskey.”

  “Brek. Go away. Girls’ night. We need to dissect this.” Velma shooed him away again.

  “Why does he get to stay?” Brek jerked his chin to Eli.

  Eli grinned big and settled deeper into the booth. “’Cause they like me.”

  “I’ll fill you in later.” Velma smiled up at her husband. “You should probably go water down Jase’s whiskey, anyway.”

  Brek grumbled and stalked back to the bar.

  “Babushka? Seriously?” Velma asked. “Naked. She’s like a hundred.”

  Not quite, but who was counting at that point?

  “Oh yeah. I know what I saw.” Geriatric porn. Heather glanced to where Jase and his bottle of whiskey brooded at the bar.

  “And what exactly did you see?” Claire scooted forward and dropped her elbows on the table. “Without being graphic. Just enough details so we can understand if it’s a one- or a two-bottle night for Jase.”

  Heather swallowed. Hard. “Everything.”

  “Everything?” Eli’s expression pinched in obvious disbelief.

  “Oh, if it’s anatomy used to…you know…” Heather bit her lip and slid her gaze toward the wall.

  “Have sex?” Claire pried.

  “Yeah. We saw it all. The view from the doorway was right in line with the sofa, and they were…ah…you know…like she was on her hands and knees.” Heather’s entire neck and face heated at the thought.

  “Doggie style?” Claire’s jaw dropped open. “You saw old-man balls?”

  “In action.” Heather squeezed the lime and dropped it into her glass with a plop.

  Velma scrunched up her eyebrows. “Babushka’s a little old to hold that position. How—”

  Heather dropped her head to her hands. She would never forget the image burned into her retinas. “They used the throw pillow
s as leverage.”

  “Holy shit.” Claire, for once, apparently had no other words. No witty comeback. Nada. “Good for her.”

  “And that’s the story of why I’ll be stabbing out my eyes.” Heather took another gulp of soda, wishing like hell that Brek had laced it with a touch of vodka.

  “C’mon, you’re not even kind of a prude. You can handle a little dash of old-man balls. You’re the queen of the penis cookies.” Velma rubbed at Heather’s back.

  “My penis cookies are not elderly.”

  “Jase is gonna get so blitzed.” Eli scooted out of the booth. “I should go do the friend thing and drink with him while we don’t talk about his grandmother getting laid.”

  “Oh sure, we let you in on girls’ night and you abandon us for your boys.” Claire pointed the stem of her cherry at him.

  He shrugged. “What can I say? Bros before—”

  “You’re gonna not want to finish that thought.” Velma shot him a you’re-never-invited-again look.

  “I was going to say bros before beautiful women.” He grinned a wide smile and left for the bar—slipping onto the vacant barstool next to Jase.

  “Do you think Babushka’s going to move in with this guy? Now that they’re…you know?” Velma asked.

  Gah, Heather hoped not. Sure, Babushka helped her around the apartment. But more than that, it was kind of nice to have someone to come home to. Babushka was quirky—and that was an understatement. But it was nice to have someone care about her.

  “A week ago, I’d have hoped she would. Now? Now, I like having her around.” Heather shook the fuzz from her brain. “Let’s talk about something else. Anything else.”

  “Are you and Jase really getting together?” Candy asked. “I think that’d be great. I mean, you bring something out in him. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

  Anger? Sexual tension? Heather could start ticking off the myriad of emotions she seemed to bring out in Jase. And vice versa.

  “I don’t know what we’re doing.” Heather said—the honesty of her words an everlasting frustration. She dropped her head to the table and left it there.

  “Maybe we should talk about something else,” Velma suggested.

  “I have news,” Candy replied. “I got into design school. Finally.” She did a squee jazz-hands number.

  Heather jolted. Candy had been applying to fashion design school for years. It was her dream to design clothing professionally. But Heather had started to rely on her at the shop. This couldn’t mean… “You’re leaving the shop?”

  “Eventually.” Candy bit at her lip. “Probably soon. I figure we’ll get a replacement and I’ll help train them.”

  A replacement for the bakery, yes. Not a replacement for the fun they had together in the kitchen. Yeah, it was selfish, but Heather liked that she and Candy knew each other so well they could stand in the kitchen for hours and not say a word one day, and the next they’d jabber the whole time. That wasn’t the kind of thing she could expect from just any employee. That’s only the kind of thing she could expect from someone who had known her since she was three.

  Heather tapped down her disappointment because Candy was clearly so excited.

  “And I can stay on part-time through school, if you’ll let me,” Candy continued.

  Of course Heather would. This was her sister’s dream, and it was amazing she got to live it. Even if it meant they were moving in different directions. She glanced to Jase. The world was turning, everyone doing new things…maybe she should, too?

  They spent an hour dissecting Candy’s career plans, and then Velma had to head home to do the mom thing. The band finished their set and Jase had left his barstool for the jukebox. Heather followed him, nursing her second soda water of the night.

  She stared at the electronic playlists Jase scrolled through. “What’re you looking for?”

  “I’m in the mood for some Belinda Carlisle.” His words blended slightly together. Still, he managed to punch a few buttons, and the opening strains of “I Get Weak” blared over the speakers.

  “You are intoxicated.” Heather pointed her drink at him.

  “You are perceptive.” He smiled a slurred smile. “We should have that prom committee meeting now.”

  “Or maybe I should take you home.” She set her empty glass on a nearby table and linked her arm through his, ready to lead him to a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water. She’d get him tucked in at home and go home to her vacant apartment.

  “Let’s have some fun, instead.” He draped his arm over her shoulders and tucked her into his side.

  “I think we’ve had enough fun for one day.” One week. One lifetime.

  “Is this the part where you want me to deal with my shit, then?” he asked, his tone light.

  She tried to push him toward a booth. She should get some food in him, too. “Jase, dealing with your shit when you’re drunk hardly counts.”

  “That’s the best time to deal with anything. The problem I have is there’s not enough alcohol in the world to erase the memories.” He tucked his chin into the top of her hair and inhaled.

  “Which memories?” She pulled back so she could see his face. Read his expression. Unfortunately, it was blank. A fissure of unease spread along her spine. The fine hair on her arms stood on end.

  “All of them.” He ran a hand over his face and dropped it to his side.

  She glanced around for backup. Her friends had left, but Eli and Brek should still be around. Brek was pouring drinks for another customer. Eli wasn’t anywhere nearby. Damn.

  “Let’s dance.” He snapped out of his trance and snagged her hand, spinning her in a circle.

  She cleared her throat, trying to keep up with him. “Er…Jase?”

  “Yup.” He popped the p at the end of the word and leaned in close. His hips did a slow gyration that made her mouth go dry and her tongue numb.

  “You’re going to give everyone the wrong impression about us. They’ll think we’re together.”

  “Don’t care.” He nuzzled her neck, the five-o’clock shadow on his cheek scraping against the sensitive skin.

  “You’ll care tomorrow.”

  “Heather.” He pulled back and caught her gaze with his. “Shhhhhhh.” He raised a finger to her lips dramatically. “Let’s dance.”

  So, they did.

  14

  Chapter Fourteen

  Senior “Senior” Prom Countdown: 19 Days

  Jase should’ve had a headache. Hell, he’d earned one the night before. But, nope, he didn’t get hangovers. Especially with Heather shoving water and aspirin down his throat as soon as they’d returned to his apartment above the flower shop. His gaze roamed to his bedroom where she currently slept. Did she sprawl out or did she curl into a ball? He’d bet his right arm she curled into a ball asleep. Now, he wanted to know. Dammit.

  He’d offered her his bed when she’d poured him inside last night. She’d insisted on sticking around to check on him. He’d insisted she sleep there while he took the couch. His couch was a piece of shit. On cue, his neck cracked when he sat up, punctuating that thought.

  At some point, Heather had tossed a blanket over him. He owed her for that. And getting him home.

  He rolled off his sofa and clicked on the coffeepot in the kitchen. His coffee wasn’t great, but it did the job.

  Two full cups of fresh drip coffee in hand, he knocked lightly on the door.

  “Come in.” Her voice was early-morning groggy.

  He pushed open the door and stepped into the room. “Morning.”

  Curled up in a ball. That’s how he found her.

  He couldn’t help the smile tickling the corner of his lips. Called it.

  “Morning.” She sat up, and the gray Navy T-shirt she’d apparently borrowed from him slipped off one shoulder. Fuck, that was sexy as all hell.

  When was the last time he’d wanted a woman like he wanted Heather Reese? It’d been a hell of a drought. Not that he didn’t have the o
ccasional hookup. He just hadn’t felt the intense need to see a woman smile from the depths of her soul. Not for a long, long time. Not since…

  Nope. He refused to think about his past.

  The edge of the bed creaked as he sat down and handed her a mug. She took it. Held it between her palms. Couldn’t meet his gaze.

  The air between them weighed heavy.

  Awkward. That’s what this was.

  “Glad you found something to sleep in.” He gestured to his shirt.

  Her face flamed red. “Oh. I hope it’s okay… I was worried about you.”

  “Because I should be vomiting my guts out now?”

  Her cheeks went even more red. She messed with the blanket, and it slipped, revealing creamy thigh.

  His dick stretched, ready to come out and play. Down, boy.

  The last thing he needed at the moment was for the captain in his pants to start making requests.

  “I…uh…” he started.

  More blanket slipped from her thigh. The T-shirt covered a good deal, but he couldn’t pull his gaze from that sliver of pale skin.

  “So.” He scrubbed a hand over his hair.

  She stared intently at the brown liquid in her cup. “So.”

  “What do you have planned—” he said at the same time she said, “How are you feel—”

  “Not much, just working—” she replied at the same time he replied, “Good, thanks for the aspirin.”

  They both glanced to their respective mugs. She took a sip. He took a gulp.

  He stood. This was one of the clumsiest mornings after ever, and he hadn’t even gotten laid. “I can help you with committee stuff today.”

  And maybe keep my hands off you.

  “That’d be great.” She set her mug on the New Belgium beer crate he used as a makeshift nightstand and waved a hand between them. “This is weird. Why is it weird?”

  Because he’d gotten trashed in front of her. They’d seen his grandmother getting laid. Why was it weird, she asked? He could go on and on. “Last night was one of those nights that—”

  “Makes you question everything?” She finished for him.