He shoved a rose too forcefully into the floral foam, breaking the stem.
He stared at it, clipped it and tossed it back in the bucket of water.
That morning he’d realized he really wanted to do this with her, the possible-forever gig. Shell-shocked, he’d just stood there. He was a goddamned bomb technician, trained to stay calm and clip the correct wire—even when he had no clue which one that might be. Trained to expect the unexpected. One bomb could be four. An insurgent could be waiting around the corner with an AK-47 and a truckload of attitude. Yet, he hadn’t see this coming.
He couldn’t end it. No, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Because he wanted more of her. He was a selfish prick.
So, no. She wasn’t the one who was all kinds of messed up. Not even close. He wanted to hang on to her because he liked the way things were with them. Liked being around her. Even though he knew…he fucking knew it would end badly.
He picked up the brick of foam and threw it against the wall, a splat of water on the paint the only evidence of what he’d done when the foam hit the tile floor.
Hands braced on the side of the metal table, he took ten deep breaths, counting each one.
“You wanna talk about it?” Brek asked from the doorway that led to the shop.
Jase glanced up.
“Or you wanna throw shit? ’Cause I can be down with either.” Brek grabbed the foam from the floor and held it between his hands.
Jase didn’t say anything, he just grabbed a new foam brick and started over.
Brek pulled a chair up to the side of the table, lounging like he had nothing better to do. Didn’t he have a bar to run? And a kid to take care of? And a wife to do shit for?
Jase didn’t look up. “I fucked Heather.”
He’d also had lazy sex, and fun sex, and hot sex, and he’d kissed her and talked with her until one in the morning. He’d made her coffee and he’d held her hand. Yeah, he’d done all that.
“You did what?” Dean asked from the doorway.
Jase jolted. Another rose snapped in two.
He clipped it and tossed it into the bucket.
He’d fucked Heather and he’d fucked himself. Dean would not be as forgiving as Brek. But he might as well know, too. Their wives would be all over Jase like a grenade with the pin pulled when things went south. And he’d been around long enough to know things would eventually go south. “Figure you guys should know so, when shit blows up, you’ll know why.”
“She okay?” Brek asked, his expression blank. “Heather?”
“Yeah.” She was fine. Right now, she was fine. This morning when she knew what was coming, she hadn’t been fine. “We agreed to be exclusive. Then I asked her not to bring it up to my family. Now shit’s weird.”
“I think he caught the bug.” Dean pulled up his own stool. “But he’s fighting it.”
“Don’t fight it. Not worth it.” Brek leaned his elbows on the table.
Eli strolled into the back room like he was there for a tea party. “What’d I miss?”
“He and Heather had sex,” Dean supplied.
“And he’s emotional about it,” Brek said.
The hell he was.
“And they’re together, but he’s not telling his family,” Dean added.
“Keeping track of your not-a-relationship is a full-time job,” Eli grabbed a stool. “So your family wanted you to date, but you didn’t want to, so you said that you and Heather broke up and you were too devastated to date. Now, you are dating her, but you don’t want them to know…because…?”
“Because then they’ll want to get involved and they’ll start whispering in her ear and then shit will go sideways.”
“Maybe shit won’t go sideways.” Brek toyed with the foam Jase had tossed earlier.
Jase moved his gaze between his three friends. “Why do I feel like this is a setup?”
“If it looks like a setup and it smells like a setup, it’s probably a setup.” Eli straddled the stool and took his place with the other traitors.
Son of a bitch. “Your wives talked to Heather, didn’t they?”
“I don’t think we’re allowed to say.” Dean grimaced.
“They have her back? They’ll make sure she’s fine?” Jase asked. She had to be okay.
“You just said she’s fine,” Brek replied.
“I mean when shit goes bad. They’ll be there for her?” Jase asked. He should just give up on work for the day, let someone else finish up.
“Why is shit going to go bad?” Dean was apparently in shrink mode.
“’Cause he thinks shit always goes bad,” Eli answered for him.
“Should we all hand in our balls, grab a pot of tea, and sit around processing my sex life?” Jase asked. “Because that sounds like shit I do not need.”
“I’m game to talk about feelings, but I’m gonna need hard liquor if you’re gonna cry,” Eli said.
“You’re being a dick.” Jase pointed the end of a rose at him.
“It’s my gift.” Eli flashed a shit-eating smile. “Pull up a chair and tell me what’s got the stick shoved up your ass.”
“When’s the last time he was this upset he got laid?” Dean kicked back in his stool, lounging against the wall.
“I can’t recall a time he got some and wasn’t happy about it,” Eli replied. “Not that I know every time he gets a piece.”
“She’s special, okay, assholes?” Jase spit out the words before he had a moment to think it through. “She’s special, and when I fuck it up, she’s going to get hurt.”
“Shit. We’re doing this again.” Eli scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s like I’m over here holding up the singles area all by myself.”
“Your turn’s comin’, too,” Brek replied.
Eli glared his way.
“You know? Let’s not talk anymore.” Jase did his best to ignore them.
The silence was unbearable.
“The thing is, I shouldn’t want this with her.”
The guys stayed silent.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” Jase asked.
“Are we supposed to?” Eli asked, entirely too innocently.
“Fucker.” Jase gave him a one-finger salute.
Eli leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You know what I miss? I’ll tell you. I miss when we used to talk about Brek’s bike, and you going on and on about shit that blows up, and what mountain I’m gonna climb next, and whatever the hell Dean does for work. Don’t get me wrong, I dig a good lay just as much as the next guy. But ever since you all got lady issues, you’re no fun.”
“You’re shit with advice.” Brek shook his head.
“Then, Dean, you’re up,” Eli replied.
“Heather is special.” Dean gave Jase a pointed look. “And I think it’s in everyone’s best interest that you do not, in fact, fuck it up.”
“She’s not Angela,” Brek said, quiet, eyes focused on his hands folded on top of the table.
No shit. Heather wasn’t his ex-wife. He refused to do a comparison. The shit of it was, he and Angela had left things on a decent note. Despite everything. Hell, they’d even shared a divorce attorney. She’d moved on and she’d hoped he would, too. “Angela has nothing to do with anything.”
“Just everything,” Eli muttered.
Jase wanted to spend time with Heather. He wanted to get to know her. He never wanted to get to know a woman—not like he was craving her. His heart had been broken once and everyone said it’d heal.
They’d lied.
He used duct tape, super glue, and a heap of Frankenstein staples to hold the thing together. His resolve to keep it tucked away hardened. He couldn’t let the past repeat itself. He wouldn’t survive that again.
And the way she’d looked that morning?
Another staple had popped in his heart at the disappointment in her eyes.
“I think what these idiots are trying to say is that Heather may seem like the kind of woman who doesn’t g
et hurt. That things don’t bother her. But she’s been through a pretty rough patch.” Dean was all business. “You’ve been through a rough patch, too. Maybe the two of you can help each other past it. If that means you end up together, it makes Thanksgiving easier. But if you don’t, at least maybe you’ll learn something from one another.”
The cowbell on the front door clanked and something shifted in the air, then he heard her voice and it effectively pressed the pause button on his heartbeat. Heather.
“Everyone act like we weren’t talking about their sex life,” Eli suggested.
Brek thumped him upside the head, and then she was there in the doorway and Jase was stripped raw.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize everyone was here.” Heather slid a glance between them all.
“What’s up, sugar?” Jase asked, the endearment slipping through his lips like a buttered grenade.
Brek coughed into his hand. Eli dropped his head to the table. Dean just smiled like a candy-ass.
Heather took it all in, briefly, before shifting her gaze back to him. “The afternoon deliveries are ready, so I thought I’d come over and let Ethan know.”
“He’s not back yet, but I’ll send him over when he gets here.” That wasn’t why she’d come by, though. That was a phone call Candy usually made. Not a trip across the asphalt for Heather.
“I also wanted to see which flowers you wanted to use for the prom, so I can coordinate the cookies.” She shifted from foot to foot. “I want them to match.”
“I’ll text you some pictures.” He couldn’t help but notice the way her breaths were coming more quickly than usual.
Her hair was back in its ponytail and she’d changed clothes. No apron this time, so she obviously wasn’t in a rush when she’d headed his way. “I need to talk to you about your grandmother. Have you talked to her?”
Shit. No, he hadn’t even thought about Babushka since… Negative…he hadn’t talked to her.
“I guess that’s a no.” Heather’s chest started to heave like it had when she was upset that morning. “Okay, so she figured out that we’re together. Back together. Just together. Whatever.”
Fuck. If she knew, his mother knew… If his mother knew? Everyone knew.
Heather went on, “And I’m sorry, I know you didn’t want to tell her. Yet. She just overheard…you know. She just…”
Heather had no idea what she’d just done. To both of them. There would be no escape for either, once his family knew. He and Heather would get sucked into their vortex and they’d never get any time alone.
“We’ll just step out,” Dean stood and ticked his head toward the door. “Brek? Eli?”
“You might as well stay. I mean you’ll hear all this anyway,” Heather replied.
Dean slid his gaze between the two of them, finally settling back on the stool.
“Okay. She knows. I’ll take care of it. Just…the family is going to descend.”
“I can handle that.” She nodded.
Ha. No one could handle a roomful of Dvornakovs.
“Also...there’s another thing…”
“Maybe we should step out now.” Dean stood again.
Heather took a deep breath. “Babushka wanted to move in with Morty, but I told her that’s a bad idea and she should stay with me or move back in with your parents. But she was really not into those ideas, because she’s still mad at your dad and she wants us to have our space. So I convinced her to consider the retirement home where we’re hosting prom. She’s got a tour later today and she’s really excited—”
She kept talking, but Jase couldn’t hear her over the buzzing in his ears. Her lips were moving, but he just stared at them, not really able to process what she was saying. When had his life spun so far out of control because he’d had a crush on a girl with a cute ponytail and a bouquet of erection cookies?
Oh, she’d stopped talking and was staring at him like he was supposed to respond.
“Jase?” she asked.
He opened his mouth, looked to his buddies, then back to the woman he’d committed to that weekend. He closed his mouth.
“She asked if you want to go,” Brek chimed in.
“Go where?” He couldn’t pull his gaze from Heather’s red lips.
“To take the tour with her. With us,” she replied.
“To take the tour. Right, because she’s moving out because we’re—” Jase coughed.
Awkward silence settled over the room.
“Together. That’s the word you’re looking for,” Eli supplied.
“It’s at four. If you want to come, you can. And I’ll just wait and see what you decide.” Heather was breathing funny and her cheeks were redder than normal. “I’m going to go now.”
She turned and practically bolted through the shop.
“I have no idea what just happened,” Jase said to the air she’d vacated.
“This would be the part where you go after her.” Dean crossed his arms and nodded toward the front of the shop.
And do what?
“You gonna go after her?” Eli asked in his best ten-year-old-duh voice.
Was he?
Eli started to raise from his stool. “Or I can go?”
“Every second counts.” Brek shoved a hand on Eli’s shoulder, pushing him back down.
“What am I supposed to say?” Jase asked.
“Start with an apology, that usually works for me.” Brek shrugged.
See? This was why Jase didn’t do relationships. He always ended up apologizing for shit he didn’t understand.
Eli started making a ticktock sound by clicking his tongue.
Fine, so he’d go find out what that was about without the audience around making shit uncomfortable.
He tossed off his rubber apron and hurried after Heather. What the hell was he going to say?
Somehow, he made it to the sidewalk. She was halfway across the street.
“Heather,” he called.
She turned and paused. Frowned. Then she walked back toward him.
He jogged the distance between them, stopping in front of her. “I…”
She frowned deeper.
He tried again. “This whole thing…”
She raised her eyebrows.
“What I mean is…” He fixated on her lips and the words disappeared from his brain.
In the Navy, they’d taught Jase to control his emotions. Subdue his physiological responses to stress. He could enter a room with enough dynamite they wouldn’t even find traces of his DNA. He never batted an eye. Throw him in the frigid waters of the Atlantic? He controlled his pulse to stay alive long enough for an extraction. But now? Every time he was around Heather, all the training Uncle Sam could throw at him went down the toilet. He couldn’t control shit.
She was frowning, and that was unacceptable. That he’d made her frown. So, he did the one thing he could actually think of in that moment. He kissed her. Tongue and fire and his hands totally wrecking her ponytail. She fisted her hands in his tee and held on, kissing him back with everything he knew she had.
And they were on the sidewalk. In the middle of the day.
Slowly, he pulled back. Then leaned in and kissed her lightly.
She held his stare and his pulse swished faster.
“We’re good?” he asked.
Now she smiled. “Yeah.”
“Good.” He brushed the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone.
“This whole thing between us is just so… I mean. I wasn’t doing this again. And you weren’t. And now we are.” She dropped her head to his shoulder.
His favorite place for it.
He rested his hand against her neck. “I’ll be by in a few hours. Go with you and Babushka to check this place out. I need to check out the space, anyway, if I’m going to decorate it.”
“That works,” she said against his skin. “You’re really okay with your family knowing about us?”
“Well, let’s not get carried away.” “Okay” was no
t the word he’d choose to describe his feelings, but he’d go with it. “We’ll make it work.”
She didn’t move. He didn’t move. Her hands still fisted in his shirt. “I guess I have to go back to work,” she said.
“Then you have to let go, sugar.” Now he was chuckling.
She glanced to where her hands still held on to his tee. She released him. “Right.”
His insides started to go soft. Except one specific appendage that flew full staff whenever she was around. Her cheeks were pink, and his dick was hard, and somehow they’d figure out how to do this so it didn’t go sideways. No one had to get hurt.
18
Chapter Eighteen
Senior “Senior” Prom Countdown: 18 Days
Heather followed behind Jase and Babushka as the director at the retirement home gave them a tour. After Logan left, Heather had found a volunteer notice and had started coming by. Turned out, she really liked the residents who lived here. They loved it when she stopped in and never got tired of the time she spent with them. When she got lonely, it was easier to come for a visit and chat with her new friends than spend the evenings alone. They were a balm to her fresh heartache—they understood loss and they didn’t downplay her feelings. And they loved her cookies—especially the naughty ones. The book club ordered them weekly.
They also loved game shows, which was a huge plus. Ever since she was a kid, watching them with her grandmother, they’d become a permanent part of her routine. She loved the unpredictability of what would happen next. The strategy. The way they could take an average person and make their life better.
“Heather!” She turned when Harry, one of her favorite residents, hustled toward her. “How’s my sweetheart?”
The retirement home was all decked out in pastel colors and a multitude of beiges. It was very subdued and meant to be calming. Harry was none of those things. He was a spry old man with a huge smile and an abundance of cologne.
She grinned. “I’m good. Bringing a friend who might want to live here for a tour.” Heather gestured to Jase and Babushka, who were listening to the spiel about how the shuttle to downtown worked.
Just the Tip of the Iceberg: Mile High Matched Books 1-3 Page 40