Full Tilt (Full Tilt #1)(81)

We had dinner at the Chart House, a beachfront restaurant that was a splurge, but life was short and money was for spending today. Afterward, we walked along the surf, hand-in-hand, carrying our shoes. The full moon hovered over the horizon. Its light spilled over the black ocean in a cone of molten silver.

“This was a good idea,” Jonah said. He stopped walking and cast his gaze out over the waves. “Every decision I’ve made since I met you has been good. Taking you home that first night, eating at that diner, letting you stay for a few days, asking you to come back when you left.”

“I was a little persistent on some counts,” I said.

“Thank God you were.” He turned to look at me and his moon-filled eyes were fierce. “My family and friends ask me what I want. What I want to do or see besides make glass. And I’ve only told them what I don’t want. I don’t want to travel to some far-flung place, just so I can say I went. I don’t want to climb a mountain or jump out of an airplane. A little bit of exhilaration and then back on the ground again—those manufactured moments aren’t what I want.”

He brushed his hand over my hair, pulling me close.

“This is what I want. You and me, in a place like this. Outside of time. Going for a walk along the beach, eating or swimming or making love when we feel like it.” I heard his breath catch and his next words were gruff. “This is living, Kace. This is exactly what I wanted but I didn’t know who to ask.”

I felt tears sting my eyes, and I let out a breathy little laugh. “It was me.”

“It was you.” He held my face in his hands, brushed his lips over mine. “Always and only you.”





We packed a lot into the next day, starting with an early–morning stroll on the beach and breakfast at the Pannikin coffee shop.

“This is where me and my best friend, Laura, used to come when we ditched class,” I said. “This building was once a train station.”

Jonah plucked the corner of his napkin, shredding it into careful strips. “Your parents’ house must be close by then.”

“A mile and half east,” I said. “But we’re not here for that. The things I like about San Diego are far away from my house.”

Jonah smiled gently. “Show me all of them.”

I took him to my favorite fish taco stand for lunch, followed by a doughnut from the best doughnut shop in the world. We strolled the Pacific Beach boardwalk, crowded with pedestrians, and skateboarders.

“Do you want to see the place where I had my first kiss?”

“Not especially.”

“What? Think you can’t top fourteen-year-old Ricky Moreno with his braces and bad breath?”

The twist of Jonah’s mouth was smug as he slid a hand around the back of my neck and kissed me. A man’s kiss, demanding and deep, leaving me breathless.

“Ricky who?” I murmured.

He arched his brow in that way I loved. “Damn right.”

We started walking again, arms crossed over one another’s backs.

“The kiss at the MGM Grand really was my first,” I said.

“My jackpot kiss?”

“It was the first time a man kissed me because it was the perfect time and place for a kiss. The right moment. Not because he hoped it would lead to something else.”

“But I did want it to lead to something else,” Jonah said. “This. Us.”

I smiled at the warmth that spread through me for those words. “That’s a first, too.”

The day melted away as we wandered San Diego, then wound up back at the hotel. To make love, to sleep a little. We showered and went for dinner at a little crab shack, and after, we climbed into the rented convertible as twilight deepened to night.

“There’s still time if you want to see your parents,” Jonah said. “Don’t not go on my account, Kace. It isn’t about me.”

I took a breath. “I really don’t want to see or talk to them. But maybe…We could go by the house. I wouldn’t mind that.” It was the truth: I wanted—needed—to know if the house was still my home.

Jonah revved the engine. “Let’s do it.”

“All right. But…put the top up, okay? So they don’t see me.”

He smiled and pushed the button. The car’s top unfolded and dropped down, clicking into place.

I directed Jonah to the Bridgeview neighborhood, where the houses were smaller than the big behemoths of Mission Hills to the west.

“That one,” I said, my heart pounding in my ears. “Stop here.”

Jonah pulled to the curb. Across the street and a bit down was the two-story house in pale blue paint with white trim. My parents’ old Subaru was parked on the street.

“They can’t use the garage,” I said absently. “It’s full of old furniture and antiques my dad inherited when my grandmother died.” My eyes swept the house, lingered on the yellow squares of light from the front windows. “They’re home,” I said softly.

Jonah leaned over the console, his head by my shoulder. He took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Whatever you want to do, Kace.”

The house blurred as tears filled my eyes. “I’m so proud you’re with me, Jonah. It would f*cking suck to watch my dad miss everything wonderful about you because he’s ashamed of me.”