He kissed her then—lips and tongue and heat and fire.
“Why the uniform?” she asked when he broke the kiss. “I thought you didn’t wear it anymore?”
“You said you liked a guy in uniform, and I figured it’s time to stop running from my past.”
She touched the air over one of the medals attached to the jacket, afraid to actually place her hand on it. “But isn’t this breaking the rules? It’s not a wedding or a funeral or an important event.”
“Heather.” He pulled her hand against his heart, pressing her palm against the medal she’d admired. “Convincing you to give me another chance definitely counts as an important event.”
She gulped, her throat suddenly thick with an emotion she couldn’t quite name.
He lifted a shoulder. “Also, figured since you are into uniforms, I could use all the help I could get.”
She buried her face in his chest. “You’re such a goober.”
“Yeah.” He raised his hand to the back of her neck, holding it there. “Your goober.”
He was hers.
She traced the line of his abs through the poly-cotton blend. Yes, abs like the ones on Jase Dvornakov definitely made her reconsider swearing off men.
“I love you, Jase.”
“That’s what I was counting on.” And he kissed her again.
Epilogue
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Heather sat next to Jase on her sofa. Their sofa.
He’d moved in shortly after they’d agreed to give it another try. It made sense. They spent all their nights together, anyway.
“Positive,” he replied.
He said it, but she couldn’t help but notice the way his fingers tapped against his knee. He was nervous. He never got nervous. Not like this.
She grabbed the remote control for the television. Since he’d moved in, she’d only watched when he wasn’t around. The night he showed up in his dress whites he’d shared everything about the accident overseas. The accident that had changed it all for him.
“Trust me?” she asked.
He stilled his fingertips. “Always.”
“We can just go in the bedroom and I’ll tie you up or something?” That might be more fun, anyway.
A slight grin lifted the edges of his mouth. “Let’s do this.”
She snuggled against him and turned on The Price Is Right. His hand found hers just as the first contestant ran down the aisle to Contestant Row. His face turned hard, but he didn’t glance away. She squeezed his hand. He traced the line of her ring with his thumb—she’d gone back for it after they patched things up. The ring represented the promise to herself that, no matter what, no matter how things went, she’d be okay alone.
She’d be okay by herself, but life was pretty fantastic when she had Jase next to her.
“You’re still doing all right?” she asked as a contestant bid way too high on a Pentax digital camera.
He released her hand and wrapped his arm around her. “You’re more wound up than I am.”
“I’ll relax.” She forced herself to watch as Drew Carey named the winner and called him onto the stage.
“I like Jeopardy the best, but The Price is Right comes in at a close second.” She wasn’t a talker when she watched television, but she found herself wanting to distract Jase from whatever was going on in his head. “My favorite is Plinko. I think that’s everyone’s favorite. No one really likes the golf game, but they play that one all the time.”
Jase slipped something hard and cool into Heather’s hand. A box.
She lifted it up.
A ring box.
Her heart skipped. Drew Carey was announcing Punch a Bunch in the background as the first game, and Jase’s fingertips were tapping against his knee again.
Everything about the moment imprinted in her memory as she lifted open the top. An engagement ring sat between the two tiny silk pillows. Her mouth dropped open. She turned to him and tucked her feet under her thighs, but she didn’t look up, her gaze pinned on the ring before her.
“Figured you might want to.” He lifted the ring from the box.
She snapped her gaze from the diamond solitaire to Jase. He was breathing harder than normal. When he’d asked if she’d watch with him, she had no idea this was what he had planned.
“Do you?” He held the ring to her.
“Do I?”
“Want to?” He picked up her hand in his.
Her chest started to pulse with laughter. She bit her lip. “That’s your proposal?”
“You’re not supposed to laugh.” His eyes sparkled.
She held her hand out to him, spreading her fingers so he could slip the ring in place. “Yes, Jase. Yes, I want to.”
“Good.” He turned back to the television.
She snuggled into his side. “Your marriage proposal could use a little work.”
“You said yes, so it couldn’t have been that bad.” He lifted her chin with his fingertip, pressing a light kiss to her lips. She liked all his kisses—the hot ones, the fast ones, the slow ones, but she liked the light ones the best, because he saved those for important moments, the ones he wanted her to remember.
“Whatever the question, if it’s about us being together, the answer is always yes.” Heather caught his hand with her own and squeezed. She swore his eyes misted.
“Always?” he asked.
“Always and forever.” She held his gaze and they stayed that way. Neither of them moved. “That’s not to say a dash of what you did for me with the promposal wouldn’t be welcomed.”
“Because you love flowers now?”
“Because I love you.” She studied the way her engagement ring caught the light. “Also, flowers.”
“Heather?” he asked.
“Hmm?”
“Will you marry me?”
She threw her arms around his neck. “Yes.”
He grinned at that. “You should know, I talked to my family before tonight. Let them know I’d be popping the question. They’re having a big welcome-to-the-family dinner for you tomorrow. I invited your parents and Candy.”
Heather slid her glance to him. “Seriously?”
“There’ll be vodka. We’ll all manage.”
“Which boyfriend do you think Babushka will bring?” she asked finally.
“Probably both, just to piss off my dad,” Jase said.
Babushka still threatened to die every time she wanted something, but the doctors promised her health was fine.
Which was perfect, because Heather wanted to give her those great-grandchildren Babushka wanted so desperately.
Someday. Not yet, though.
Right now, she had Jase.
And that was enough.
There’s more Jase & Heather!
* * *
A special bonus scene Christina created
especially for newsletter subscribers!
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Sign up for the bonus scene at:
ChristinaHovland.com/blowmeaway-bonus
Acknowledgments
Without the following people, this dream would not have been possible:
Angela, who first introduced me to cockies. Girl, I owe you.
My husband Steve and my kids for being so supportive of me on this journey. I couldn’t be living my dream without you.
My mom, Shirley, and my sister, Sereneti. Your love of my books makes writing them worthwhile.
My critique partners and first line beta readers: Sarah Morgenthaler, Serena Bell, Ana Morgan, A.Y. Chao, Susannah Erwin, C.R. Grissom, Colette Dixon, Deb Smolha, Karie, Paige, and Amy.
Todd for answering random questions about the legal needs of fictional characters.
Beth for being the best author assistant ever.
L.A. Mitchell for making me believe this dream is possible.
My agent, Emily Sylvan Kim, who continues to support and encourage me. I am so blessed to have you in my corner. And Lynn at Prospect Agency, thank you for everything you’re doing for my b
ooks!
Holly Ingraham for being an awesome, awesome, awesome editor! I adore working with you.
Michelle Hope for being the eagle eyes I needed on this manuscript. Thank you so much.
Shasta Schafer for being a friend and my final proofreader. We’re both following our dreams and I love that we get to work together.
Kristi Yanta for always being supportive and awesome.
The amazing Rebelles. I am so blessed to be part of your group.
And, finally, the Romance Chicks: Dylann Crush, Jody Holford, and Renee Ann Miller.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
* * *
Copyright 2019 by Christina Hovland. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.
* * *
For rights information, please contact:
Prospect Agency
551 Valley Road, PMB 377
Upper Montclair, NJ 07043
(718) 788-3217
* * *
Holly Ingraham, Development Editor
Tamara Beard of Wrapped Up in Writing, Copy Editor & Proofreader
Shasta Schafer, Final Proofreader
First Edition August 2019
I’d like to dedicate this book to all of the English Lit teachers who shaped my journey to become a published author.
* * *
Thank you.
Chapter One
Two Days Before the Wedding
“Lothario, stop humping the angora,” Marlee Medford—soon-to-be Bishop—stepped onto the patio of her Denver townhome. Her pure-white-haired chihuahua tipped his head to the side, stopped humping her fiancé’s angora sweater that had fallen to the ground, and whined.
Leaves from their two aspen trees rustled beside her—red and orange and ready to break free from their branches in preparation for winter.
She snatched the sweater, brushed a couple of fallen leaves from the sleeve, and hung it over the arm of the empty chair next to Scotty. He was immersed in his phone, apparently oblivious to the defiling of his clothes.
Lothario had a thing for Scotty’s shirts, and it drove Scotty absolutely nuts. Aside from Scotty’s clothing, Lothario literally humped anything that moved. Except Marlee. She’d put a stop to that early on. One would’ve thought that Lothario’s recent unfortunate experience with a moving bicycle tire would’ve stopped the behavior, but all it got him was a cast on his right leg and a rededication to defiling all things.
She turned her focus from the dog to Scotty. He had his serious face on that morning.
“Hey, sweetie.” She squeezed his shoulders and kissed his cheek before sitting next to him with her morning coffee. “I’ve only got a second. I have a bajillion things to do today for the wedding.”
Their wedding.
Their forty-eight-hours-away nuptials.
“Leelee.” He set his phone down beside his coffee mug. “We need to talk about the wedding.”
“Okay.” She squeezed his hands. “What’s up?”
“I don’t want to do it.” He glanced to the side, not meeting her eyes.
That wasn’t exactly a choice anymore. Not with four hundred of their closest friends coming to Denver for their wedding.
“We’re not getting married, Leelee.” He heaved a huge breath. “I’m sorry.”
She dropped his hands. What?
“We’re not getting married?” she asked.
“No.” He shook his head. “I’m so sorry.”
He was sorry? He was sorry?
Marlee’s stomach dropped.
“It’s been this way for a while.” Scotty’s eyes were kind as he spoke. “I’ve been thinking we should take a break, but with the wedding planning and your dad, I figured we’d see it through.” He sighed. “It was the wrong decision.”
He’d asked her to sit on their patio with him and have a cup of morning coffee so he could end their relationship? What. The. Hell?
No. This was just cold feet. They’d get through it.
“I know we haven’t exactly been connecting lately, but that’s totally normal. We’re in a committed, long-term relationship. It’s not supposed to be exciting,” Marlee said. It’s not like she hadn’t noticed the lack of spark. “We’re just supposed to stick with it, so we have someone to grow old with, right?”
They’d settled into a routine with each other that was just about as comfortable as lukewarm bathwater. Not awful. Definitely not great. Once they were married, things would heat up again. They’d get back to Jacuzzi level.
“I don’t just want someone to grow old with.” Scotty gulped. “I want someone who lights a fire inside of me. Like we used to do for each other.”
“Look, if you want a fire, I can try to cook something.” Marlee was the queen of burning the shit out of anything she tried to make.
He chuckled. Then his expression broke. “I think we should stop now, while we still like each other. Not wait until we can’t stand to be in the same room together.”
While she waited for her heart to break, she focused on the milky brown liquid in her mug. Her best friends had flown in from all over the country. Her family owned two of Denver’s most prized sports teams, so the wedding had even made headlines in the Denver Post. The breakup would undoubtedly be devastatingly public. The panic she felt wasn’t from all that, though. She felt like she’d been dropped out of a plane but landed on a mountain of soft pillows. What she was feeling was…relief. Relief that was starting to make her panic. And that didn’t even make any sense.
“Marlee?” Scotty kept his focus on her. “Say something.”
Her gaze caught Lothario pulling Scotty’s sweater off the chair again. “Seriously, stop having sex with Scotty’s sweater.”
“That’s not what I wanted you to say.” Scotty rubbed his forehead.
“What do you want me to say?” Marlee asked. “It’s fine?”
“Just say what you’re feeling.”
Staring at him, she really tried to see the man she’d fallen in love with. But that man was gone—he had been for a while—and she wasn’t the woman he’d fallen in love with, either.
She opened her mouth to speak. Then she closed it again.
How was she supposed to be done with the guy who had been there for her since she was twenty? They’d spent a decade together. A decent decade. There were good parts to that decade.
“Scotty, I…”
Her throat started to close up, her chest went tight—and not from an asthma attack. No. This was the panic portion of their breakup.
“You said you loved me more,” she said on a breath. Just last night, he’d said that very thing.
He dropped his gaze to the table, not responding.
They sat together in the silence of their broken relationship.
“I meant it. I just don’t think you love me very much anymore, either,” he finally said.
No, not really, but she figured they’d get back to that. She’d figured that’s what a relationship was—two people who fell in and out of love over and over again. They just hadn’t gotten around to falling back in love yet.
Marlee couldn’t draw a breath. Four hundred guests to notify. The task would be mammoth. She had to call her wedding planner ASAP. Her lungs had seemingly collapsed against her ribs, the pillows of relief deflating to spikes of holy shit.
Keep it together, Marlee.
“You want a relationship break, or you want to move on?” she asked. Clarification at this point was a good thing.
A relationship break would be like twenty-four hours, and then they’d still have a wedding. The moving on? Totally different. Besides, wasn’t a break just something people said to ease the bandage from the wound of an eventual breakup?
A vein in his forehead pulsed. It always did when
he was agitated. Which she did not understand at all at the moment, given that he was the one messing everything up.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.
“This isn’t a break,” she said. Scotty was way too decisive for that. “You’re ending us.”
It wasn’t a question, because she knew the answer.
“Yes.” The word hung in the air around Scotty’s lips.
“Seriously, Lothario, leave the sweater alone,” she said firmly. The dog clearly had no idea her life was in a free fall and it was not the time to have a fling with angora. He was getting more action during her breakup than she’d had in weeks.
There seemed to be no feeling in her body. She couldn’t get her limbs to move. Her lips were numb. Her fingertips had no feeling.
This was happening.
What was she going to do about all the filet mignon they’d already purchased for the reception? The cake she’d picked out? The final hair trial with her stylist scheduled for that afternoon? She glanced toward the French doors of their townhome, itching to get inside and start making the calls that needed to happen. And what did that say about the state of their relationship?
“There are four hundred people coming.” She leaned forward, pressing her palms against the glass-topped patio table. “You didn’t think to tell me this yesterday? Or last week? Or last month? Or whenever it hit you that you didn’t want to spend forever with me?” She stabbed her finger at her own chest.
“It’s not that cut and dry.” Scotty fidgeted with his mug. “I had to get my own feelings straight.” He shook his head, then quickly added, “But there’s not anyone else, I promise.”
She stared at him like he’d shown up to their wedding in Bermuda shorts and a Hawaiian shirt.
Of course, there was no one else. They worked together, lived together, exercised together—okay, he hit the weights, she scrolled through her phone while she walked on the treadmill. In any case, duh, he didn’t have someone else. He wouldn’t have time for that.
Just the Tip of the Iceberg: Mile High Matched Books 1-3 Page 49