Just the Tip of the Iceberg: Mile High Matched Books 1-3

by Christina Hovland

  Somehow, he managed to open the clear plastic corsage box. Carefully, he lifted the wristlet—a silver cuff that was all the rage with the seventeen-year-olds this year—and slipped it on her arm.

  “It’s beautiful.” She held it up.

  He’d used her roses and silver beads. It was simple.

  But stunning.

  It fit her perfectly.

  “We should go, huh?” She tilted her head toward the door.

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you okay?” She held the back of her hand to his cheek. “You’re acting weird.”

  “Fine. I’m fine. Let’s go.” Since her dress wasn’t made for the back of a Ducati, they’d agreed to walk the block to the retirement home. But he’d circumvented that and hired a stretch black Lincoln limousine.

  She turned toward the sidewalk.

  He grabbed her hand. “This way.” He led her to the street where the chauffer waited.

  The limo came into view and she stopped. When he turned to her, she had two fingers pressed over her lips. “You rented a limo?”

  “It is prom night. And since you didn’t get to go to the last one, I figured you should get the entire Dvornakov experience.” Minus getting caught in a make-out session on his parents’ patio. Not to say he didn’t hope there would be lip action later in the evening. Just not the kind that involved any parentals barging in.

  She was wearing heels this time, so her lips were right at his level. Which was ideal, because when she pressed them to his, he didn’t have to lean over, and she didn’t have to stand on her toes.

  What he wanted to do was shove his hands in her hair and kiss her like she deserved. But she was all wrapped up like a present, and he didn’t want to ruin that. So instead he kept it the light brush that she instigated, his hands appropriately at her waist.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  The chauffer opened the limousine door and Jase helped her in, then slid onto the seat.

  Brek had made him up a pitcher of spiked punch. He poured it into a champagne glass and handed it to her, the pink liquid pitching against the side of the glass as the limo pulled into the street.

  “What’s this?” She held up the glass.

  “This is step two in the ‘Dvornakov prom night’ experience. Spiked punch.” He poured himself a glass.

  She clinked her glass against his and took a sip. She half coughed, half swallowed. “Holy shit, what’s in this?”

  He had no idea. He took a slug of his own. Motor oil. Brek had not gone easy with the spikeage. “Brek made it. I think that’s a mixture of vodka, juice, and a fuck ton of rum. I believe it’s called jungle juice.”

  A little nod toward the evening.

  “Oh my God, I haven’t had jungle juice in years.” She giggled and sipped again. “Brek made us jungle juice.”

  “Glad to see you approve.”

  She traced a hand along the collar of his tux jacket. “The Dvornakov prom package is really something else.”

  If he touched her, he might not be able to stop. Not in that dress.

  He touched her anyway, his fingertips on satin. “What’s your favorite part so far?”

  “Definitely you.” She scooted toward him. “Did you know we’re going the wrong direction?”

  Yeah, he did. He’d instructed the chauffer to take the long way. Otherwise, it would’ve been a two-minute ride. Heather deserved more than that.

  “We’re taking the scenic route,” he replied.

  She raised her champagne flute to his and clinked it before taking another sip.

  The limousine pulled up to the retirement home. Jase waited for the chauffer to open the door before he helped Heather out. The crew was waiting outside for them—Brek, Velma, Claire, Dean, and Eli.

  The guys all in tuxedos, except Brek, who had issued a personal moratorium on them after Claire and Dean got hitched. His jeans didn’t have holes in them that night, so that was something.

  “He got her a limo,” Claire said to Dean. “Why didn’t you get me a limo?”

  “He didn’t mention he was getting her a limo,” Dean grumbled.

  Jase glanced to Dean and shrugged.

  “He’s not married to her,” Eli replied. “They’re still in the limo phase.”

  “Are we out of the limo phase?” Velma asked Brek.

  “Not after what we did in the last limo. Pretty sure we’re gonna always be in the limo phase,” he replied.

  “I’m just glad we get a few hours away.” Velma snuggled next to him.

  “She’ll still be checking her phone every five minutes to see if Grandma and Lily are gettin’ along,” Brek said to Jase.

  “For the record,” Jase whispered to Heather. “Even if we were married, I’d have gotten you a limo.”

  Heather glanced to him, her face full sunshine. “I like your Dvornakov prom package.”

  “Eli, couldn’t find someone to put up with you?” Jase raised his hand toward his buddy for a high five.

  Eli smacked it in return. “Someone’s got to hold up the singles area.”

  Jase held his arm to Heather. She took it, and they led the way into the rec room.

  Turned out prom in your thirties was a billion times better than prom in your teens, Heather mused. It helped when your date for the night actually showed up. Her arm linked with Jase’s, he pushed the entrance to the rec room open.

  When she’d left the place earlier that day to get ready, Jase had arranged the trellises along the wall and had added a load of foliage and flowers. Apparently, he’d been busy after her departure, because now there were water features. Live fish. And he’d added vines.

  It was a jungle-themed garden party.

  She sucked in a deep breath.

  He’d made her a jungle—because he knew it was important to her.

  Fountains bubbled in the background, the DJ was setting up his area, the dance floor was ready to go, and Candy had laid out a bunch of cookies from the shop. Jase had even added large arrangements to each table that matched the flowers on the trellises.

  Before she left, it was awesome. Now? With the jungle-themed additions? It was freaking stunning.

  She gasped and gripped the fabric of his tuxedo jacket sleeve. “You did all this?”

  He squeezed her against his side. “Hope you like it.”

  “I love it.” She gulped, refusing to cry and ruin her mascara.

  “Ve are here,” Babushka announced herself.

  She bustled into the room, Morty trailing behind her, and a group of elderly women following him. Babushka had decked herself out for the evening in a floral mumu. She had a corsage on her wrist and wore bright-red lipstick with sky-blue eyeshadow. Morty took her arm, strutting alongside her like a peacock.

  “When do you suppose Harry’s turn starts?” Heather asked Jase.

  He shook his head. “No idea, but I’m choosing to ignore her antics tonight.”

  Er…that didn’t seem like the best idea.

  Jase snatched the bundles of red roses he’d brought for the ladies, and passed out handfuls to Brek, Eli, and Dean to distribute.

  The residents started to pour in. Heather gestured for the DJ to turn on the music. On cue, big band music played through the speakers.

  “Vere is Eli?” Babushka pushed through the throng to them. She’d lost Morty somewhere along the way. “You have no date, yes?”

  “That’s right.” Eli handed her a rose. “Tonight, I’m everyone’s date.”

  She didn’t take the rose. “No, no. Vait. This is my friend Doris.” She waved over one of the women. Doris was pushing eighty. She was also pushing a walker. “Doris, this is Eli. He is here stag. Isn’t that vonderful?”

  “Hello, Doris.” Eli handed her a rose.

  “I do believe stags and cougars can get along very well.” Babushka pushed Eli toward Doris. “You vill dance vith her?”

  Eli glared daggers at Jase. “Of course I will.” He focused on the other woman. “Doris? Let’s
go find a spot on the dance floor.”

  “Did she just…?” Jase side-eyed Heather.

  “I believe your grandmother found Eli a date.” Heather giggled and buried her face against the side of Jase’s arm.

  “You fuckin’ owe me, Dvornakov,” Eli said under his breath. Still, he extended his arm to Doris, grinning like he was about to give her a prom to remember.

  “Very good.” Babushka clapped her hands.

  Harry entered the rec room in a tuxedo, a bouquet of roses in his hands. “Nadzieja, my dear.”

  Alarm bells started dinging in Heather’s head over “Mack the Knife” playing through the speakers.

  “You are early,” Babushka admonished Harry. “Ve agreed you get the second half of the evening.” She reached for the bouquet.

  He held it back. “These are for Carol, my first date.”

  Oh geez. Heather held on to Jase’s arm, in case he decided to go rogue on one of Babushka’s dates.

  “You both have two dates tonight?” Jase held up two fingers in illustration.

  “Morty first. Then Harry after eight,” Babushka said as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

  “Nadzieja had plans until eight, and I didn’t want to miss out on the fun.” Harry bounced on the balls of his feet. “But tomorrow she’s all mine.”

  Babushka blushed.

  Heather had spent a lot of time with Babushka—in the shop, up at the casino, taking her to appointments. But she’d never, not once, seen the woman blush.

  And there had been plenty of opportunity for blushing.

  “If you’ll excuse me.” Harry rubbed his hands together, smoothed his comb-over, and hurried to the woman Heather could only assume was Carol.

  “Tomorrow vill be vonderful. Jason, you and Heather will be there, yes?” Babushka asked.

  What was tomorrow? All Heather had on her schedule was work, laundry, and starting the search for Candy’s replacement. She couldn’t fault her sister for wanting to follow her dreams. Hell, that’s what Heather had done herself. She just wished the timing was a bit better. That things were more established at the shop.

  “Nadzieja, come have punch.” Morty held up a cup of the punch. Babushka bustled to him before Jase could answer about tomorrow.

  “What’s tomorrow?” Heather asked him.

  “Family shit. Trust me, you don’t want to be there.” He adjusted his hand at her waist. He also didn’t meet her eyes.

  The little hairs on her arms stood on end. “What kind of family shit?” And why was Babushka inviting her when Jase clearly didn’t want her there?

  “The kind you don’t want to get in the middle of.” He kissed her forehead. “Promise.”

  Her stomach felt uneasy, and not from the spiked punch in the limo. Like she’d pulled the big wheel on The Price is Right and she was shouting, Big money! Big money! But she knew, deep down, she was only going to win a quarter and there was no hope of a showcase showdown.

  “Is this because your mother hates me?” she asked, cautious.

  “My mother doesn’t hate you.” He said it, but he didn’t sound convincing. “C’mon, let’s go dance.” He did his chin-jerk thing toward the dance floor. “Eli and Doris look all alone out there.”

  “Jase.” Heather released his arm.

  He stopped.

  “I want to make things right with your mom and dad,” she continued.

  It meant a lot to her that his family was on board with them as a couple. Given her past track record, she wanted a guy who was all in with her. He knew this.

  He sighed. “My parents will come around. But for now, I think it’s best if we avoid family gatherings. Until things blow over.”

  She let out a breath. They were seeing each other. They were seeing each other exclusively. They were seeing each other with the hope of more…weren’t they? Or was she making what they were doing into more? Like she had always done before?

  He wanted to keep her separate from his family, keep that part of him away from her.

  Her history had proven she wasn’t exactly the best at getting a read on men. But she was certain she and Jase were more than just a passing fling.

  “Dance with me?” Jase asked, holding his hand out to her. She nodded. She took his hand, and they’d made it to the edge of the dance floor when the music changed from big band to the golden oldies. “Great Balls of Fire” filled the air. Jase spun her in a circle, catching her against his chest and tracing his hand over her waist just a tad too low for public consumption.

  A buzz of awareness sizzled through her. Jase did a spin/turn combo move, pulling Heather along with him, ending with her back against his chest and giving her a view of Harry and Carol getting their groove on.

  Harry was really into his moves. Heather’s stomach dropped. Holy shit, if he kept that up, he’d break his hip.

  They didn’t need an ambulance extraction that night.

  Apparently, Morty wasn’t one to be upstaged, and given that he owned a gentlemen’s club, he also had some moves. Moves that involved an abundance of pelvis action.

  Heather looked to Jase. “Are they—?”

  “You know, just when I think my life can’t get any weirder, Babushka’s two boyfriends have a dance off.” He shook his head.

  Morty did a slow air hump.

  “That’s my cue to leave.” Jase evacuated to the cookie table where Brek and Dean had already taken up residence.

  Heather should’ve followed, but her eyes were glued to Morty’s attempts at sultry. She was worried Harry might bust a hip, but really, it was Morty who was using every bit of his body. All he needed was a pole to grind on.

  Velma and Claire hurried toward Heather.

  “You got a limo.” Velma grasped Heather’s arm.

  Claire took the other arm. “And things look to be going really well with Jase.”

  Really well, unless his family got involved. And his family always seemed to get involved. Heather swallowed the lump in her throat. “Things are okay.”

  “Uh-oh.” Velma pulled her away from the Harry and Morty dance contest. Claire followed.

  “What happened?” Claire pulled out a chair at a nearby table for Heather.

  Heather sat. “Honestly? Nothing. But Babushka mentioned a family thing tomorrow that I was supposed to know about, but Jase said it’d be better if I didn’t go.”

  “Is this because his mother knows you make penis cookies?” Claire leaned her elbows on the table.

  “I don’t really know.” Heather slumped in her chair. “I feel like he’s blocking me out of part of his life. And that’s fine. I mean, it’s fine, right?”

  She’d ruined many relationships by pushing too hard, too fast, but Velma and Claire did not look like it was fine.

  “It’s just that I really like him. And I think…” He’s the one.

  “Think what?” Velma asked.

  She couldn’t say it out loud. Not when he was in the midst of building walls around certain parts of his life. And, yes, she knew his family drove him nuts. She also wasn’t so dense as to think that they weren’t the most important thing to him. When they called, he came. When Babushka needed anything, he was there. They were everything to him. But he’d also made this prom night special for her. He’d put a load of effort into it. And she was overthinking things. Per the usual.

  “Think what?” Velma asked again.

  “You know how I meet a guy, and then I start thinking that things are getting serious. I start to fall for him.” She waved her hand like they should know exactly where she was going with this.

  “And?” Claire asked.

  “And then I find out that it’s one-sided and it’s really only me who’s taking things seriously, and they’re really only into fun Heather, not forever Heather?”

  “She’s scared.” Claire gripped Heather’s hands. “Don’t be scared of it.”

  “I’m at the starting-to-fall-for-him stage,” Heather said. There it was, all out in the open
.

  “Have you seen how he looks at you?” Velma asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  Claire scooted closer. “That boy looks at you like you’re everything. Dean said that he didn’t even have that look around his ex.”

  “Brek said he thinks you’re good for Jase.” Velma tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “And Brek doesn’t say much about anything when it comes to his buddies, but he likes that you two are together.”

  “Since Jase’s been back, he’s been in a weird bubble. He’s fun, but he doesn’t let anyone get too close,” Claire continued. “That’s what Dean says.”

  “He’s letting you get close.” Velma looked over to the refreshments table where the boys huddled.

  He was letting her get close. Heather had to let go of the past and all the things that had happened with her other relationships. Jase wasn’t pulling away, they were just forging ahead in a new way. If he needed to go slower, she could do that.

  “So I’ll let whatever this is pass.” Heather reaffirmed it to herself with a glance to where Jase was still hanging out by the cookie table. He caught her stare and winked.

  Her insides warmed.

  “It’ll pass. His family will come around.” Velma stood, smoothing the skirt of her dress.

  “’Cause you’re you. They’ll see how good you are for each other.” Claire stood, too. “C’mon, I think Harry and Morty are through. Let’s get back out there.”

  Claire grabbed Heather’s hand, tugging her along to the dance floor and the elderly mosh pit to jam to some Don McLean. Heather raised her arms, shaking her booty along with Velma and Claire. Like they were teenagers again.

  A sizzle went through the air behind her. She didn’t need to turn to know Jase was there. Her stomach dipped, like it did whenever he was there. She spun to him. He’d ditched the tuxedo jacket and had rolled up his sleeves. The thing about Jase was that, when he committed to dancing, he was all in. The moves that would make most people cringe and worry they’d screw up, he pulled off without hesitation. She’d give it to him, his dancing rivaled Harry’s and Morty’s. He didn’t even need to air hump to make it happen.