Page 20 of Full Tilt
“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.
I took that smile as a good sign. “Hey, you know what? I’m fucking starving. How about we get some food somewhere? I still have about an hour before I need to get back and get ready for the show. Whaddya say? You up for something? My treat.”
Jonah’s face stiffened and the muscles in his shoulders tensedup. “I have to drive tonight, at six, and I’m on a really tight schedule…”
“You keep saying that.” I chucked him in the shoulder, like we were old pals. “Don’t you ever break your routine?”
“No. I do not.”
“Oh.” I bit my lip. I was nothing if not tenacious. “One greasy, post-hangover diner lunch won’t take that long, will it? Half-hour, forty-five minutes, tops.”
Jonah’s shrewd dark eyes met mine, and I could feel him studying me. He was observant, this guy, and I felt like my insecurities were written all over me.
Or maybe it’s because you look like the poster girl for the Walk of Shame.
“I said you were welcome to eat anything here,” Jonah said finally.
“And it was kind of you to offer, but you don’t have much in the way of…actual food.”
“I have lots of dietary restrictions,” he said.
“Sure.” I coughed. “But why, exactly?”
Jonah looked to be waging an internal struggle, whether or not to tell me what I already suspected.
“I have a heart condition,” he said slowly.
“Oh?” As if I hadn’t already snooped through his medicine cabinet. My eyes itched to glance at the scar that began in the hollow of his throat. I kept my gaze plastered to his face. I must’ve looked like a crazy person, staring so intently because Jonah took a step backward.
“Anyway. That’s another long story and…Yeah, I guess we could grab some food if you’re really hungry.”
“Starved!”
I rushed back to the couch to put my thigh-high boots back on, which looked strange with my leather skirt and men’s T-shirt, but I was out of the bustier, thank God.
“I’m ready.”
“Okay,” Jonah said hesitantly. “A quick lunch and then I getyou back to Summerlin.”
