Full Tilt (Full Tilt #1)(16)

“That too,” I muttered absently, and kept perusing.

The same hot brother and two other friends—an African-American guy and a pretty girl with long hair—showed up in a lot of pictures: at a club, at a party, surrounded by tall green trees on a camping trip, or on a desert plain with the sun rising or setting behind them.

In almost every picture, Jonah wore a bright, open smile that made his whole face light up. Such a contrast to the stiff, serious expression he wore around me. I couldn’t help but smile back at him.

I noticed that one girl—a beautiful brunette with delicate features—was beside Jonah in a lot of pics. Jonah usually had his arm slung around her, that same happy smile on his face, while the woman looked pinched and posed, as if she had turned her ‘best side’ to the camera.

Above the photos were the two framed degrees I’d noticed this morning. One was a diploma from the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, and the other from Carnegie Mellon.

Carnegie Mellon… That was a big time university. Maybe even Ivy League. Jonah was talented and smart. He looked young, only a few years older than me. Shouldn’t he still be at Carnegie Mellon? Or did whatever medical condition he had force him to quit?

I touched a photo of a laughing, smiling Jonah. “What happened to you?”

He’s fine. He’s making glass stuff at a hot shop, whatever that is. You, on the other hand, started a riot and then blacked out. The better question is, what happened to you?

“I’m fine,” I told no one, even though I’d have given anything for a Bloody Mary just then.

All at once, that damn bustier felt like it was ten sizes too small instead of only two. I couldn’t breathe and started to sweat all over again. The AC unit was churning quietly at the window overlooking the busy street. Rather than give the neighbors a thrill, I went back into the kitchen, pulling at the laces that held the bustier together on the sides. I peeled it off and let it hit the floor, leaving me in a black, strapless bra as I threw open the freezer.

I was too short. The icy air hit my face but not where I needed it. I spied a stepstool near the cabinets, dragged it in front of the freezer and climbed up. I lifted my hair off my neck and held it bunched to my head, letting the air hit me under the arms and chest, cooling my burning skin and dampening my urge for a stiff drink.

“Um…hello?”

Jonah. I hadn’t heard him come in over the whir of the freezer. I nearly toppled off the stool.

“Oh my God, seriously?” I snatched my bustier off the ground and held it over my chest like a shield. “Scare a gal to death, why don’t you?”

He looked like he was biting back a smile. “Sorry. I was just trying to figure out what you were doing.”

“Fishing out one of your Lean Cuisines with my boobs,” I retorted. “What do you think I was doing? I’m cooling off.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what the air conditioner is for,” he said, jerking his thumb behind him.

“Yeah, but it’s by the window, smart guy. I didn’t want to flash the entire street.”

Jonah held up his hands. “Point taken.”

A short silence descended where it was obvious neither of us knew what to do or say next.

I huffed a sigh. “Look, are you going to stand there staring at me all day or maybe help me out? Your neighbor already thinks I’m a call girl. This is a stage outfit, not leisure wear.”

Now it was totally obvious he was trying not to smile. “Hold on a sec.” He went into the bedroom and came back with a plain black T-shirt. “This work?”

I turned my back to him, and pulled the shirt over my head. It was too big and a V-neck, which was totally not my style, and it smelled like him.

Once more, the feeling of being too personal too soon with this guy came over me. Now I was standing barefoot in his kitchen, wearing his shirt.

“Thanks,” I said, turning back to face him. Another short silence, during which Jonah stared at me. Not in a creepy way, more like he was trying to figure out what to make of me.

I got that a lot.

I shifted from foot to foot. “How was your glass-making?”

“Blowing.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s glass-blowing,” Jonah said. “I don’t make the glass, I make things out of super-heated glass by blowing air through a pipe…” He waved a hand. “Never mind. It’s a long process. I don’t want to bore you with the details, and we’d best get you back—”

“It doesn’t sound boring,” I said quickly. “I can’t even imagine how you make that stuff. So intricate. The paperweight with the sea creatures? I mean… How do you do it?”

God, I was babbling like an idiot, trying to stay above the surface because the thought of going back to Summerlin was like a lead weight, dragging me down. Jonah frowned, clearly trying to decide if I really cared or if I were just stalling.

Both.

“I could explain,” he said, “but that would take all day, and I have a tight schedule to adhere to, and…”

“Me being here is a huge pain in your ass,” I finished, trying not to sag. “I get it. It’s cool.”

“You’re not a pain in the ass,” Jonah said.

I cocked my head at him.

“Okay, maybe a little,” he said with a small smile.