Heather followed behind Jase and Babushka as the director at the retirement home gave them a tour. After Logan left, Heather had found a volunteer notice and had started coming by. Turned out, she really liked the residents who lived here. They loved it when she stopped in and never got tired of the time she spent with them. When she got lonely, it was easier to come for a visit and chat with her new friends than spend the evenings alone. They were a balm to her fresh heartache—they understood loss and they didn’t downplay her feelings. And they loved her cookies—especially the naughty ones. The book club ordered them weekly.
They also loved game shows, which was a huge plus. Ever since she was a kid, watching them with her grandmother, they’d become a permanent part of her routine. She loved the unpredictability of what would happen next. The strategy. The way they could take an average person and make their life better.
“Heather!” She turned when Harry, one of her favorite residents, hustled toward her. “How’s my sweetheart?”
The retirement home was all decked out in pastel colors and a multitude of beiges. It was very subdued and meant to be calming. Harry was none of those things. He was a spry old man with a huge smile and an abundance of cologne.
She grinned. “I’m good. Bringing a friend who might want to live here for a tour.” Heather gestured to Jase and Babushka, who were listening to the spiel about how the shuttle to downtown worked.
Harry’s eyes twinkled. “Is she single?”
“No.” Heather shook her head. “She’s got a boyfriend.”
He shrugged. “Eh. At our age, that status changes hourly.”
Oh God, that’s just what Jase needed. Another boyfriend for Babushka.
“The book club ladies and I want to ask you about a cookie-decorating class. We want to change things up.” Harry rubbed his hands together. “What do you say?”
That sounded like a load of fun. “You all name the day.”
“Aye-aye.” Harry gave her a little salute and scooted off toward Babushka. Heather followed, slipping beside Jase. His hand found hers and he linked their fingers together.
And, dammit, she’d had sex with this man all weekend. But when he linked their fingers together? Butterflies danced through her stomach. She’d been out of the game for a while, so they were practically geriatric butterflies. But they still flitted, and she felt like a teenager who’d just been asked out to the movies.
Meanwhile, Harry was in total flirt mode—wide smile, freshly combed hair, animated talking. Babushka was eating it up, which didn’t bode well for poor Morty.
“You wanna see the room where we’re hosting the prom?” Heather whispered to Jase.
“Will we be alone, and does it smell like mothballs?” His breath played against her ear.
She turned so they were nose to nose. “Yes and no.”
“Then I’m in.” He unlinked their hands and laid his palm on his grandmother’s shoulder. “Heather’s going to go show me some stuff. We’ll catch up.”
“Yes, yes. I’m good.” Babushka brushed off his hand and linked her arm with Harry’s outstretched elbow.
“I’m starting to think this retirement home might not be the best place for her.” Jase glared in Harry’s direction.
“It’s this or Morty’s.”
Jase sighed heavily. “So, this place is looking better and better.”
“C’mon. I’ll show you.” Heather pulled him toward the large rec room with a bank of windows along one wall that led out to a concrete patio with potted plants and benches. An abundance of white-plastic folding tables lined one wall next to a rack of metal chairs. They would set those up with tablecloths for the dance—given that the attendees likely wouldn’t be able to stand for long periods. “I figured we’d put the DJ over there, and the dance floor here, and then snacks and punch right next to the door.”
He took it all in. “You really like doing this stuff, don’t you?”
“Well…yeah.” She did. It gave her something to do and it made people happy. “I’ve got a little dance lesson planned, too. You wanna be my partner?”
“I’m in. Name the day.” He pointed toward the patio. “What about an arch of flowers covering the doorway, and I can bring in some trellises and hang vines. We’ll do it up with lots of flowers.”
“That sounds expensive.”
“We’ll call it a write-off.”
He would do that? Her chest heaved. In a good way. “Still. Maybe stick with carnations?”
Jase made a sour face. “I run a classy shop. We don’t even let carnations in the door.”
“And you don’t mind doing this?” Heather gestured wide.
He tilted her chin up with his index finger. “I’d sell my left nut to have you look at me again the way you just did.”
She leaned up on her tippy-toes and pressed a kiss to the edge of his mouth. “I like your nuts where they are, thank you.”
He moved toward the windows, inspecting the walls around them. “Anything else you want for this thing? I’ll have Elizabeth put together some corsages, and we can bring some single long-stemmed roses.”
“I’m starting to rethink my stance on flowers.” When it was just the two of them, it felt like no one else in the world existed.
He winked at her. “Then my plan is working.”
“Vat are ve doing?” Babushka breezed into the rec room.
“Jase and I…” Heather glanced to him. “We’re…”
And just like that, when another person showed up, she turned into a stammering mess.
“Heather’s planning a prom for the residents here. I’m helping.” Jase strode back, his hand caught hers, and he pulled her into his side.
“I vill live here. I have decided.” Babushka clapped her hands, and apparently, that was that. “I vill start paperwork.” She headed toward the offices at the front of the building.
Jase hadn’t moved his arm, it was still slung around Heather, nestling her against his side.
“Are you good with this?” Heather asked, looking up at him from under her lashes. “Your grandmother living here?”
“The alternative is her living with that idiot from Blackhawk. So, yeah, I’m good with this.” Jase gave her a side squeeze. “I’ll talk to Eli, get him to do the food for this thing.”
That would be amazing, but… “We really don’t have that much of a budget, Jase. I was just thinking like cookies and punch or something.”
“He owes me. I’ll call in a favor.” He caught her stare. “You’re doing it again, sugar.”
“Doing what?”
He traced the column of her neck with his fingertip. “Looking at me like that.”
“I’ll stop.” She glanced around the room instead, doing a mental catalog of all that needed done.
Jase tilted her face back to him. “Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”
Oh.
Well.
Oh.