She slammed the light switch off and shoved Jase back into the hallway.
No. He couldn’t have seen… Except, the way his face managed to be both pale and furious red meant he had…
The pulse over his temples thumped in time with the one in his neck. He was going to blow. “Jase—”
“My grandmother.” He pointed a finger toward the now closed door.
“Yes.”
“Not my grandfather.” His voice cracked like a teenager in the midst of puberty.
Well, no, but she was pretty sure it wouldn’t have mattered who had his grandmother naked on that sofa—that was an image neither of them would ever be able to forget.
“I’m going to rearrange his ass and his head,” Jase declared and grabbed the key card from Heather’s fingers.
Heather’s heart stopped. The way Jase’s hands shook, she was pretty sure he would throttle poor Morty.
“You’ll have to open the door.” She held his wrist so he wouldn’t make the attempt without fully thinking it through.
“What?” He looked at her like she’d grown two heads.
“To rearrange his ass and…stuff. You’ll have to open the door. If you do that, you’ll see…” He’d see more of what they’d just seen together.
The red drained to nothing, leaving him colorless. “Fuck me.”
Nope, that was not happening tonight. She’d need an entire bottle of vodka and perhaps a few shots of tequila to ever get in the mood again. Ever.
“Okay, we need a new plan. Let’s go back to Denver. Watch that cover band and pretend this whole thing never happened.” Never, ever, ever.
He glanced uncertainly to the door. “We can’t just leave them here.”
She got it, she really did. The desire to barge in there and break up the party battled against the intense need to never see the gray hair and all that wrinkled skin ever again. “Do you really think they’re gonna miss us if we take off? We’ll just leave a note.”
There, all solved.
Jase ran a hand over his face. “Let’s go to Brek’s Bar.”
13
Chapter Thirteen
Brek’s Bar was nothing like the cowboy joint. Oh sure, there were still neon beer signs on the wall, but Brek’s was actually clean and the food smelled amazing. Burgers, buffalo chicken, and spicy cumin. The band blared a cover of Dimefront’s latest hit, and a smattering of couples took advantage of the dance floor.
What had her life disintegrated to that her days had come to barhopping, elevator make-out sessions, and…nope, she was not thinking about what was probably still going on up at the casino.
Jase’s hand grazed her waist in a totally proprietary way that made her want to sigh and lean into him.
“Heather!” someone called from the corner.
She turned and couldn’t help but smile. Claire, Velma, and Candy had commandeered a corner booth.
Jase nodded to the group. “Why don’t you go play with your friends? I’m going to go get shit-faced.”
“That sounds like a healthy way to deal with what’s happened tonight.” Heather gave him her best don’t-do-anything-you’ll-regret look.
“Sometimes avoidance is key to survival,” he said with a grunt and made a beeline for the bar.
From behind the bar, Brek initiated some kind of elaborate handshake with him and poured a glass of whiskey. Jase snagged the bottle out of his hand and took a long pull, ignoring the filled glass in front of him.
