Well, that sucked.
“Don’t feel bad, though,” she continued. “It didn’t work out for them, either, and it’s not like he was crowned homecoming king or anything. He was just a jerk who went for someone else. No big deal.”
That didn’t sit right with Jase.
“Second time someone bought you flowers?” he asked, digging deeper.
She rolled her eyes. “Pretty sure the next guy who bought me flowers was probably a boyfriend who did something wrong and wanted to make up for it. It’s not a big deal why I don’t like flowers. I just don’t care for them.” She rolled her eyes at nothing in particular. “Don’t get me wrong, I like them when they’re in the ground or on a bush. I just don’t think murdering them for my personal enjoyment makes much sense.”
Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot. Hold up. “No one murders the flowers.”
She pinched her lips to the side. “They’re alive one minute. Hacked off their life source. Dead and on your dining room table the next. Seems like murder to me.”
He crossed his arms. She’d fall in love with flowers. He’d see to it.
The phone in her purse chimed. She checked it.
He couldn’t rip his gaze from her. There was an invisible weight there, holding it in place.
“Damn,” she said. “Jase-and-Heather-Land is about to be cut short. Candy says your grandmother is still convinced she’s employed by me. She’s now taken over the kitchen.”
Shit.
“We should go fix that.” Jase pushed off from his stool. Yes, his grandmother and her fuck-with-you games.
Heather didn’t look up from the text she tapped out. She tucked her phone back in her purse, stood, and stumbled a little.
Jase caught her around the waist.
She gripped his shoulders for balance and they stayed like that. Her eyes locked with his, her lips parting, her eyelids falling heavy. Lavender and vanilla countered the smell of the cowboy bar, inflaming his senses, forcing his body to demand more. He didn’t ache for a woman. Hadn’t ached for a woman in forever. But, in that moment, his desire forthiswoman bordered on crazy.
“I want to kiss you,” he said.
She closed the gap between them, her lips brushing his. He wanted more, but it was Heather who took things deeper, leaning into him, opening her mouth.
God, she tasted good. He couldn’t even describe it. Just Heather.
She broke the kiss for an instant, a look of shock written on her features. “Screw it,” she said and then went back in for more.
He did not object.
Heaven. Kissing Heather was like heaven. Her mouth met his with hungry demand.
His hips pressed to her, the evidence of his arousal apparent against the zipper of his jeans. She moaned, her neck arching to the side. He moved his mouth to the indentation at the edge of her throat, using his tongue and teeth and lips to show her all the things he’d rather do in private.
Private.
Shit. They were in a bar.
He dropped his hands from her waist and pulled back. He clocked the moment Heather came back to her senses. She pursed her lips and pressed the back of her hand against her mouth.
“We should go,” she said with efficiency, turning toward the exit.
Jase was not a guy to dissect every kiss, every tumble in the sheets. His philosophy was to just let things be what they were going to be. Enjoy the moment, then move to the next. Watching Heather as she hustled away from him? That philosophy seemed like the stupidest shit he’d ever thought.
“Heather?” he asked her back.
That kiss was not a moment he wanted to move away from.
