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

by Christina Hovland

  Heather slipped by him.

  “I’d like to know what the fuckwit did.” Brek went to the kitchen and poured her a glass of white.

  He slid it across the island before pulling out his phone and typing something on the screen.

  Heather hopped up onto a barstool. Then she spilled her guts to Brek—everything from the cockies in flames to Babushka’s birthday to the hospital. She should’ve waited for Velma, but Brek was, actually, a good listener.

  “You want me to kick his ass?” he asked. “He’s my buddy, but I’ll do it.”

  Heather shook her head. She didn’t want that. What she wanted was to rewind to a month prior and park her van somewhere else. She wanted to rewind and not fall for him.

  Not fall in love with him.

  Because, if she were being honest, that’s exactly what she’d done.

  She thought she’d been in love before. With her latest ex and a few guys before him, she’d been certain what she felt was love.

  But it was nothing compared to the way Jase made her feel. Or the way it killed her that they had to end. She wiped a stray tear from her cheek. Dammit, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry.

  She was not a crier.

  Brek leaned forward, elbows on the counter. “Shit fucked him up good before he came back. Don’t know what. Don’t need to. All I know is the buddy who went over wasn’t the buddy who came back. Something big happened and part of him shut off. With you around, he started to come back for real.”

  “You don’t think I should’ve ended it?” The tears flowed freely now.

  Brek handed her a paper towel. Velma must’ve bought the roll because it was soft like cotton.

  She wiped her eyes.

  “Nah, think he’s had his head shoved up his own ass. He’ll need the kick to knock it free.”

  “And if it doesn’t?” She ran the paper towel between her fingers. “Doesn’t come loose?”

  “Then I think you’ll still be okay. You’re a strong one. It’s him I’m worried about.”

  Velma burst through the door. “I’m here. Where is she?”

  She beelined straight to Heather, barely pausing to acknowledge Brek. Then she hugged Heather, and Heather knew she would be okay. Because she was Heather Reese.

  Jase worked alone in the construction zone that would soon be the bridal shop. Having hung the drywall, they were down to only needing to paint all the spaces. Eli would be in before his current lease expired, and the other spaces would be ready soon after. It was finally all coming together. Business-wise, at least.

  He waited for his phone to ring. Waited for the lights to go on at Heather’s apartment.

  His phone buzzed.

  “Brek,” he said in greeting.

  “Heather came by,” Brek said.

  “She broke it off.”

  “I heard.”

  “I fucked up.”

  “Yup.”

  Neither said anything for a moment.

  Finally, Brek broke the silence. “She’s still here. Talkin’ with Velma and Claire. Figured you’d be lookin’ for her.”

  Yes. Yes, he was.

  Jase stood, confident in what needed to be done.

  He was going to convince her to give him another shot.

  29

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Heather had moved to lemonade. Sad drunk wasn’t fun, and she wasn’t ready to head home alone yet.

  Velma had put on a rom-com, but Heather was only mildly watching from the periphery, bundled on one end of the white leather sofa. Claire was curled up on the other end. Mostly, Heather was planning how she could go through life with as little contact with Jase as possible.

  It’d be easier that way.

  She toyed with the edge of the blanket, the movie soft in the background.

  “Heather,” Jase said her name.

  She glanced up over the edge of the sofa. The world pressed pause on her heartbeat.

  Jase stood in the doorway, Brek holding the door wide.

  She’d never even heard him knock.

  But he didn’t just stand there. No, he stood there in his Navy dress whites, his hat under his arm, a stack of papers in his other hand.

  “Holy crap,” Velma said.

  “Whoa.” That was Claire.

  Heather’s heart ached just looking at him. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything. Couldn’t bring herself to move at all, because this was obviously a hallucination.

  “Heather,” he said again. “Hey.”

  He shifted the cap under his arm and strode toward her with a military precision that seemed so appropriate with his uniform.

  “I’m working on a project,” he said when she didn’t say anything. “I was hoping you might hang a poster for me.” He set the stack on the edge of the sofa and tapped the top copy.

  “Jase…” she said.

  God, this killed.

  “It’s for a dance I’m helping out with. Planning,” he continued.

  She glanced to the stack. Jase and Heather Love Dance was written in black Sharpie, the date, time, and details underneath.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked. Why couldn’t they just be done? Why did it have to hurt so bad to look at him?

  “The thing is, I think it could work out between us.” He pushed the stack toward her.

  She gripped the blanket tighter, unable to do this. Not again. “No, we tried it, it didn’t.”

  “Then let’s try again.” He set his hat on the sofa and braced his arms there. “And again. Until we get it right.”

  If he wanted to play, she’d have to play. It didn’t matter; the game they’d played to start this whole thing always ended with heartbreak. But if he wanted to do it once more…what the hell. “Your family would get involved. Things would get messy. We’d both end up resenting each other.”

  He, apparently, wasn’t going to let it go so simply. “See, my grandmother might get involved. But she’s kind of fun and she’s got a good heart.”

  “And she’d crash her Buick into my cookie delivery van.” In a fit of elderly, misplaced rage.

  His expression gentled. “It’s okay, I’d promise to buy you a new one.”

  “Then she’d decide she’s going to work for me.” Despite her best efforts, Heather’s chin trembled.

  Dammit, she didn’t want to change any of this. And yet, she wanted to change all of it.

  “And you’d take her to lunch at Pistol Polly’s.”

  “You’d be furious.” Maybe she should look at the posters. She pulled them to her. He’d drawn a little drawing of two stick figures next to the words he’d printed.

  “I’d get over it.” He didn’t touch her, but his hand inched toward where she sat.

  “This is the sweetest thing I think I’ve ever heard,” Claire said to Velma.

  Velma shushed her.

  “Then we’d end up at a casino with her and her boyfriend.” Heather only had eyes for Jase. The outside world didn’t matter, it was just the two of them.

  “I think we should skip this part.” The edges of his lips twitched.

  “We’d end up at your apartment.” Her body warmed, like a switch she’d turned off earlier flicking back on.

  “That’s when the fun would start.” His hand crept close to hers.

  She released the blanket. Sat taller. “After which, you’d be ready to break up with me.”

  “But I wouldn’t, because I’d realize what I had was worth fighting for.”

  Did he mean that?

  “Then your family would get involved again and everything would go to hell.” She glanced to the hardwood. This was where it would end. This was where things would fall apart.

  “After my family fucked everything up, I’d politely tell them to fuck off. Then I’d come to you in my dress whites and ask you to forgive me for being an idiot.”

  Her breath caught. He’d told his family to fuck off?

  She kicked her legs over the edge of the sofa, h
er head in her hands. “I know you think I’m strong, but I can’t keep doing this. I want forever, but I want it with someone who wants what I do.” A tear trailed down her cheek. Twice in one day. What the hell? She batted it away with the back of her hand.

  “If you aren’t ready to hear it, and you aren’t ready to do it…” His voice went husky. Effectively breaking her heart and her resolve. “I’ll ask if I can come back every day until you are.”

  She hiccupped.

  “And if you tell me it’s really over, I’ll turn and leave. Because that’s what you want.” His voice broke on the last word. “Please tell me that’s not what you want.”

  “It’s not what I want,” she whispered.

  “Then we’ll work through this, because I love you.”

  He loved her? She glanced to him then.

  “And eventually, we’d get married,” he continued. “Or we can just live together. I’ll be good with whatever you want.” He took a long breath. “And if you want kids, we’ll have kids. If you don’t want kids, I can live with that, too.” He paused. “Because I’ll be the luckiest man in the world if I get to sleep next to you every night.”

  “Oh my gosh…” Claire said, reminding Heather they weren’t alone.

  Brek shushed her.

  “And we won’t break up?” Heather stood, facing him, letting the blanket drop to the floor.

  “Not as long as you’ll have me.” He trailed a fingertip along her jawline.

  “Okay.” She nodded. They’d do this. All of it.

  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 do
ctors 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.

  Stay in Touch

  There’s more Jase & Heather!

  A special bonus scene Christina created

  especially for newsletter subscribers!

  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 books!

  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.