SIX #2
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 glassmaking?”
“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 tensed up. “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 get you back to Summerlin.”
“Sounds great.”
He probably only agreed to food so we would change the subject, but no matter the reason, I was happy for a stay of execution. It wasn’t much, but I took it.