“No,” he replied. “Let’s do it, anyway.”
He tucked her hand in his and headed for the front door. He didn’t knock. Of course he didn’t, he didn’t have to.
“You’re not even a little excited to see your brother?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m excited to have a beer with him once all this family bullshit is done.” He squeezed her hand. “You want the tour?”
“You want to avoid the evening?” she replied, following him away from the sound of voices in the kitchen.
“Hell yes.” He pulled her along with him as he showed her through the rooms of the house, carefully avoiding the area where his family chattered. She’d known that his family was loaded. Not just loaded, but like Molly-Brown-and-a-firepit-of-money loaded. Heather had been in the house once before, when Babushka texted her for the pickup, but she hadn’t made it past the entryway.
The entryway was ornate, but the rest of the house was massive. High ceilings and one-of-a-kind signed Russian art on the walls. The whole house was decked out in cream and gold with marble accents. Heather had grown up in a small apartment in Arvada. Everything was thrift store and Walmart with linoleum accents. They might not have had a marble staircase, but there’d been a lot of love in that little second-story apartment.
Jase walked her through the bedroom wing of the house, taking his time showing her the different rooms. His old bedroom, his sister’s, and both brothers. Zach, who still lived in Denver, and Roman, who was enlisted and rarely visited—the man of the night.
They paused at Jase’s old bedroom.
“Didn’t look like this when I lived here.” He leaned against the dresser. “I wouldn’t have let Mom put stupid pillows on my bed.”
There were throw pillows at least a foot deep at the head of the bed. The whole room looked like it came from an interior design magazine spread. Still, there were little traces of Jase—framed photos on the nightstand of him with his family, and another of him with friends she’d never met before. It wasn’t Brek and Dean and Eli—these guys had a military look to them.
She meandered to the closet and flicked on the light. A handful of dry-cleaning bags hung on the rack, his uniforms inside.
He’d come up behind her.
“You ever wear these?” she asked, turning so she could see him.
He shook his head. “Not anymore.”
“Is that not allowed?” It would be a huge disservice to the world if Jase Dvornakov couldn’t wear his uniform anymore. “’Cause uniforms are super sexy.”
“They’re allowed. Important events. Things like that. But I stick to a tux now.” His expression had turned stoic.
Right. No more talk of sexy uniforms. She turned the closet light off and closed the door.
“You know what else is sexy?” she asked, ready to ease the heavy air that had taken over the room.
“What?”
“When you wear nothing.” She pressed a quick kiss to his mouth.
He smiled against her lips. “Are you getting fresh with me in my parent’s house?”
“Mm-hmm,” Heather hummed as she deepened the kiss.
“Jason,” a man who had to be his father said from the doorway.
Heather jolted and stepped away from Jase.
“Dad.” Jase didn’t seem at all fazed that his father had just walked in on them making out. “This is Heather.”
Jase held his hand out to Heather. She grabbed it, tethering her to him in a gesture of reassurance she hadn’t realized she needed.
“Hi.” Heather held out her other hand.
Jase’s dad shook it with a strong, warm grip. “It’s nice to finally meet the woman who has cracked Jason’s shell.”
“I don’t know that I’d go that far.” Heather couldn’t help the blush that was obviously creeping up her cheekbones.
“I guess Mom sent you to come find us?” Jase asked.
His father nodded. “Everyone is anxious to meet your girlfriend.”
“We’ll be right there.” Jase continued holding Heather against his side as his father left. Clearly in no hurry to get to his family, he showed her to the open patio with a pool, an outside kitchen, and a table already set with a white tablecloth and bone china. I’ll take things that cost a bajillion dollars for two hundred, Alex.
“Looks like we’re eating outside tonight,” Heather mused, running a finger along the length of the tablecloth.
“What do you think?” Jase tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels.
“I think you’re holding out on me and I should’ve gone for the Mercedes version of my delivery van.” Heather tucked her arm through his.
“Next week,” he replied.
“What?”
“The van comes next week. I’m sure you’ll be happy not to have to coordinate with Ethan anymore. They’re painting it this week and then adding the cookie and then…delivery.” He stroked the bare skin of her arm.
“Kind of crazy how this whole thing has played out, huh?” she asked.
He paused. “Yeah.”
“You think this was her plan the whole time?” Heather stared at the wavy reflection of them on the surface of the pool. “Babushka.”
“I don’t even want to guess.” They arrived at the patio door that led into the main kitchen. His parents, brothers, and sister were on the other side, unaware they stood there.
“What’s your dad’s name?” Heather stopped him before he pushed open the door.
“Alex. And you can call Mom Diana.”
“Alex and Diana.” Heather rehearsed their names. “And Zach and Anna.”
“And Roman,” Jase finished for her. “We call him Rome.”
She sang the names under her breath. A little trick she used when she got nervous and needed to remember something.
“You’re cute, you know that?” He pressed his hand to the small of her back and opened the door. All eyes turned to them. Heather was generally a confident woman, but five pairs of Dvornakov eyes trained on her at once and she was squirming in her sandals.
Zach and Roman looked a lot like Jase. Roman was built like a tank and sat tall—like Jase did. Zach lounged against the counter. Anna was all happy, perky smiles.
“Heather.” Anna stood from her barstool. “Last time you were here we didn’t even get to say hello.” She turned her attention to Jase. “You’re late, mister.”
“Heather got the tour.” He headed for a bottle of what appeared to be top-shelf Russian vodka next to a bottle of red wine and a bottle of white. He poured himself a small bit of vodka and held the bottle up to her.
She shook her head.
“I’ll have a glass of white.” Yes, it was definitely more of a wine evening, or they’d have to scrape her off the floor. And what kind of an impression would that make?
Jase poured her a glass.
“Heather, tell us about your busi—” Anna started.
“Ve can start. I am here.” Babushka breezed into the room with Harry on her heels.
“Where’s Morty?” Heather whispered to Jase.
“Fuck if I know,” he answered.
“Morty couldn’t be here,” Babushka replied. “I brought Harry instead.” Babushka brushed past everyone, beelining straight to her. “Heather. You are here. This is good thing.”
Rome coughed into his hand. “Hey, Babushka.”
She waved him away with a flick of her wrist.
Heather returned her hug, taking in the shocked expressions of the rest of the family.
“Heather is like the child I never had.” Babushka patted her cheek.
Jase’s dad cleared his throat at the comment. “You have a son. That would be me.”
“I help her at her shop,” Babushka ignored him. “We have vonderful time together. No judgement. Just happiness for me.” She glared at her son. Man, when Babushka laid it on, she laid it on thick.
“I want happiness for you.” Jase father’s voice went softer. “I love you, Mama.”
“You say this, but you forbid this and forbid that.”
“I forbid because I do love you. Can’t you see that?”
“No.” She turned her attention to the rest of the room. “Now, vere is Rome? Ah, my boy. You come home.”
“Babushka, I’ve missed you. I hear we’re going to have another huge birthday party this year.” He returned her hug.
Jase’s dad shook Harry’s hand. “You are the man who took money from my mother?”
Harry paled and glanced to Babushka.
“No, that’s the other one,” Jase mumbled under his breath.
“That is Morty. Different man.” Babushka poured herself a tumbler of vodka. “This is Harry. We live together.”
Oh God. Jase’s father’s face started to turn purple, but credit to him for keeping it together. “You live together?”
“I guess I’m off the hook, huh?” Heather muttered quietly to Jase.
“You live with this man?” his father asked again.
“I think she means, they live together at the retirement home,” Heather tried to help.
“Details.” Babushka waved a hand toward Heather.
“What the hell did I miss while I was gone?” Rome asked Zach.
“Babushka’s having a very late midlife crisis.” Zach went to work on his own glass of vodka.
Jase pulled at Heather’s arm and shook his head. “Rules of combat in the Dvornakov house: stay low, don’t say anything, don’t let them see weakness.”
“I think you’re being a bit dramatic.” Heather watched him over the rim of her wineglass.
“Also, if it’s stupid but it works, then it isn’t stupid.” Rome lifted his glass to her.
“Heather, sweetheart, we missed you at book club last week.” Harry strutted her way.
“You know this man?” Jase’s father asked.
“Heather volunteers at the retirement home. She likes committees.” Jase placed his hand at her back, a silent gesture of support that meant everything. “Mom likes committees, too.”
So he’d said.
“What committees do you serve on?” his mother asked.
“Right now, I’m helping with the senior ‘senior’ prom at the retirement home up the street from our shops. I thought it’d be fun for everyone and help bring in some new potential residents.”
“Nadzieja already agreed to go with me.” Harry’s eyes danced. “For part of the night. I’m sharing her with the man who owns Pistol Polly’s. I get second shift.”
“Pistol Polly’s?” Anna asked.
Heather swallowed hard.
“Second shift?” Zach asked, eyes wide.
“Oh shit,” Jase said under his breath.
“It vas Heather’s idea for me to move in with Harry.” Babushka picked at one of the appetizer trays.
“It was your idea for Nadzieja to move in with Harry?” Jase’s mother asked Heather in total seriousness. There was definitely an edge to the words that hadn’t been there before.
Heather choked on a sip of wine. “No…that’s not—”
“Was this before or after they decided to take shifts with my mother?” Jase’s dad asked, his expression a blank canvas.
The wine had gone sideways in her chest. She thumped at it with her fist.
Jase started to talk. “I think I can explain this—”
“Because she and Jase need their privacy at her apartment. She says I need my own space,” Babushka continued. “That I should move in with Harry.”
Okay, so that was not at all how the conversation had gone.
“This is what you say to my mother?” his father asked.
Shit. No. “Jase…” Heather said.
“This is getting twisted.” Jase pulled her against his side. “Dad, Babushka wanted to move in with her boyfriend—the other one—so Heather was coming up with alternatives. This was a much better idea.”
“And home is not an alternative?” His father glanced between Heather and Jase. “This is not an alternative you presented to my mother?”
So maybe she wasn’t off the hook after all.
“Morty is vonderful, but he always vorks,” Babushka babbled on. “Heather saw this when she took me to his restaurant.”
“To Pistol Polly’s? They have a restaurant?” His mother’s eyebrows fell together. “I’m confused.”
Heather tried to explain. “It was a total misunderstanding. I didn’t realize where she wanted to go eat—”
“C’mon, Dad, it’s not like Heather hasn’t been helpful to Babushka,” Anna tried to reason. “When you lost your temper, she let her stay with her.”
“I lost my temper because she’s handing out money to men we don’t know.”
“What the hell has been going on here?” Rome stood, apparently ready to join in the fray.
“Heather, let’s go on the patio and sit by the pool.” Jase snagged her hand and started toward the exit.
“When did you take my mother to the strip club?” Jase’s dad asked.
Heather’s heart stalled. “It wasn’t like that. I mean, yes, that’s where we ended up. And, sure, I was driving. But it was her idea and I didn’t realize until we got there—”
“Hey. Where did Babushka go?” Zach asked.
Harry was missing, too. Heather glanced to Jase. “You don’t think they’d…?”
“They’d what?” Anna asked.
Jase pinched his lips together and shook his head. “This is why we can’t have nice dinners.”
Jase’s father bustled from the room, his mother following, both of them talking to each other in rapid-fire Russian.
“Ten bucks says they’re making out in a closet somewhere.” Jase’s forehead was etched with lines, and the little lines around his mouth pointed straight down. “Let’s get out of here.”
Heather’s hand in his, he started for the front door.
“My family doesn’t really do dinners like this. We save it for Christmas and stuff,” Heather said, trying a bit of small talk. Now she kind of understood why they only got together a few times a year. If this was the kind of family drama that getting together regularly brought, she’d stick with twice-a-year get-togethers.
Jase’s mother shrieked from down the hallway. His father boomed what sounded to be Russian profanity.
Heather heaved a breath and chanced a look to Jase. “Yup. Making out in a closet. At least they didn’t have time to do what we caught them doing.”
“What did you catch her doing?” Anna’s expression was of total confusion.
Heather’s nerves had all gone numb, like when you’re in a car and it’s about to hit a telephone pole. Not that it had ever happened to her, but if it did, this is what she imagined it would feel like.
“We caught Babushka with her other boyfriend,” Jase replied. “They were…having…”
“Sex,” Heather finished for him.
“Serious?” Anna asked.
Jase nodded.
“Well. Shit.” Zach stood and refilled his tumbler of vodka. “Dad might just stroke out if he finds out.”
Heather’s shoulder slumped. “I don’t think this is going well.”
The muscles in Jase’s jaw clenched. “Welcome to my personal hell.” He dropped his untouched vodka tumbler on the counter. “Another rule of Dvornakov combat? Evacuate and get the hell out.”
Heather was 110 percent on board with that.
“Oh, hell no.” Rome jumped to block the exit. “If we have to stay, you have to stay.”
Jase widened his stance. “Heather, how do you feel about waiting by my bike?”
“What?” Heather slid her gaze to him.
He pressed his hands in his pockets, like they were at the zoo waiting in line to see the zebras. “You wanna get out of here?”
She nodded.
“I have a plan to get us out of here. Do you trust me?”
Uh. “Sure.”
“Then when I say go, you go. Wait by my bike. I’ll be right ther
e.”
“That’s how this is going to go?” Rome asked, a sly smile stretching across his lips.
“Shit.” Zach stood and started moving the wineglasses off the kitchen island.
Heather gripped his forearm. “Jase, what are you doing?”
“Don’t get in the middle of it,” Anna said, hopping up on a barstool by the sink. “You’ll get a collateral-damage-black-eye, and they’ll both feel bad.”
“Jase…” Heather’s heart started to pound. “Whatever you’re going to do—”
“Trust me,” Jase said before she could finish. Then he stared straight at Roman. “You really want to block my way?”
The ominous air that had taken over the room intensified. Heather pulled at his arm. “Jase,” she said, her voice low.
She was already on the short list of things his parents hated, she didn’t need whatever Jase was planning with his brother.
“Be ready to move. I’ll be right behind you.” He turned his entire focus back to Roman.
Roman made a little c’mere motion with his fingers, licked them, and crouched. Like, he actually licked his fingers.
Well, crap.
“Go.” Jase said it so low that she barely heard it. But she hurried into the hallway to the front door, tossing it open. Anna squealed. Zach let out a “whoooop.” Something shattered. Something large shattered. There was… Was that fist on flesh? It sounded like someone was taking hits. She started to turn back, this was ridiculous.
“What are they doing?” Jase’s mother hurried beside her.
Heather glanced to her and opened her mouth to tell her she had no idea, but Diana clearly got the message, what with the telltale thuds and cracks coming from the kitchen.
“Why didn’t you stop them?” Diana whisked herself in to the kitchen. More Russian cursing. She must’ve learned that from Jase’s dad.
Heather didn’t need to stick around to figure out what Jase and Roman had done. She’d take his rules of combat and evacuate as directed.
She bolted to the Ducati. She’d barely made it there when the front door opened and Jase strolled out like nothing had happened. No crashes, no thuds.
Just the Tip of the Iceberg: Mile High Matched Books 1-3 Page 42