“I figure it’s kind of like our first date, so it should be special.” His gaze caught hers, the flecks of bronze in his eyes branding the words in her mind.
“This isn’t a date,” Heather replied firm. Firm-ish. “This is just an opportunity for us to work together to make this prom perfect, while drinking tequila-infused beverages. I figured I’d put you on the decorating subcommittee.”
The look on his face said he wasn’t super thrilled about that idea. “Who else is on this subcommittee?”
“Right now?” she asked. “Just you.”
He nodded. “Figured. How many people are on the other committees?”
She sighed. “That’d be me. I tried to recruit help, but everyone bailed. It’s fine, though, I mean, I don’t mind doing it all. Most of it is done already—posters, invitations, all that. What’s left is decorating and food. I figured punch and cookies for the food and…you can help with the decorations.”
Plate in hand, it didn’t slip past her that he moved to each point of entry—front door, windows—before he sauntered to the print of the red ballet slippers on a bright-pink background that hung over the fireplace. Heather had fallen in love with the print at an art show.
“I was thinking for the official theme, we’d do ‘Jungle Safari.’ Don’t you think that’d be fun?” She added salsa to her plate.
“That could work.” He moved to the table and set his plate there. “We can do lots of greenery, vines, that kind of thing. What kind of budget are we looking at?”
“Well…” She sat across from him. “How much can you donate?”
“We have no budget, do we?”
“Nope. We are one hundred percent reliant on donations for this shindig.” She took a bite of taco. Now, Heather had said she wouldn’t be impressed by tacos, but she was totally into his…tacos. “So I guess the question is, how much can you donate?”
“Here’s the thing. I have a wedding the weekend before. If we switch the theme to garden party, then we can just reuse those decorations. It won’t cost anything.”
Damn. She’d really wanted the jungle theme. And it had nothing to do with the fact that it had been the theme for the prom she should’ve gone to when she was in high school. It was just an awesome theme, that was all.
“I guess that would work.” She did her best to tamp down the disappointment. She couldn’t exactly push him to donate more, if he already had a cheaper option.
Jase stared at her for a long beat.
She started to squirm under the examination. “What?”
“I don’t get it,” he finally announced.
“Get what?” she asked.
He gestured to the room at large. “Why you’re single.”
“What’s there to get?” She tucked her bare feet up under her on the chair.
“Hey, I can appreciate the need to keep your business to yourself and not put everything out there. I’m a Dvornakov. We do guilt for information better than most families.” He scooted closer to her.
“I just don’t see the point of a relationship, you know? It’s always such a disappointment.”
“Then you have been with the wrong men.”
And that’s where they needed to get back to the topic of the evening. A senior citizen dance party as a distraction from the intensity of their discussion.
“Brek helped me book a band, and we’re using the space at the nursing home.” She grabbed a brown accordion file from the side of the table, dumping the contents between them.
Heather pulled out the legal pad with her notes and scanned them. Jase reached for her wild-crazy-ideas brainstorming notebook, flipping through the pages.
“Is this your diary?” he teased.
“No.” It was not. “It’s…brainstorming.”
She glanced up as he flipped to the first page.
