“The older brother of the baby I was watching.” Why did I inherit all of the insta-blush genes in our family? “It’s nothing like that. He doesn’t like me at all. Wasn’t that obvious?”
She winks and nudges me with an elbow. “Sounds like grade-school flirting. Next he’ll be pulling your hair and calling you dorkhead and cootie-face.”
“Ha. Not likely.” I grab one of her suitcases from the foyer floor and trudge toward the stairs. “What do you have in here? It weighs a ton.”
“Shoes.” There’s another knock on the door. “See, this is when the hair pulling begins,” Evy says as she reaches around me for the knob. “I knew he couldn’t resist my little sister.”
She pulls the door open with a flourish so I’m face-to-face with a scowl. I drop the suitcase, flinching at its thud. “Did I forget something else?”
“I locked my keys in the car.” His scowl deepens.
“Accidentally?” Evy asks, laughing.
His eyes drift past me and land on my sister. She’s assumed an audience position, leaning against the green wall of the hallway. I’m sure all he sees are her chest and long, tanned legs crossed at the ankles.
“I wouldn’t have spent the past two minutes cursing at the car door if it was on purpose.” But he says this with a smile. She gets a smile. “I’m Jonah.”
“Evy. Smart idea not to curse in front of The Innocent. It makes her so damn huffy.”
“It does not!”
They share a look like they’re on some exclusive team. I hate feeling like an outsider.
“I’ll drive you home to get a spare key,” I offer.
“I’m blocking you in. My phone’s in the car; can I use yours? I’ll call AAA and be out of here.”
“Sure,” I answer.
Evy points to the cell in my hand. “Genius, if you’d figured it out sooner, you could’ve saved yourself a trip to return hers.”
I hand it over with an apologetic look. “Don’t be mean. He was probably busy worr—”
“Busy being a moron and locking my keys in the car.” He fishes a AAA card out of his wallet and turns to face the door while he dials.
I stand watching until Evy hooks her fingers in the back of my collar and drags me backward into the kitchen.
“Let go of me!” She does, and I stumble until my hip hits the counter. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Wrong with me? What’s up with the Miss America act, B?” She assumes a pose that’s straight up and down, feet at a forty-five-degree angle, fluttering lashes, and head tilt.
“I did not stand like that!”
“You did! And you’re broadcasting puppy-dog affection on every channel. Back off a bit, B, make him work for it.”
“I do not like Jonah Prentiss,” I hiss in a whisper. “And I do not need guy advice.”
“Just listen,” she orders, and as usual I shut up. “Whether or not you like this guy—someday there’s going to be a guy or girl you do. The smile-and-nod routine you were doing back there? That’s not going to get you anywhere with anyone who’s worth your time. And for the record, I approve of this guy—he doesn’t treat you like you’re made of porcelain like your usual fan club. So drop the act, okay?”
She stands there, hands on hips, eyebrows arched, waiting for my nod of agreement. I’m not going to give her the satisfaction. She doesn’t get to waltz home and tell me what a failure I am at dating and life in general.
She tilts her head toward me and clears her throat. Over her shoulder, I can see Jonah approaching from the foyer. If I don’t concede now, she’ll make me regret it.
“Fine,” I say, and she smiles triumphantly.
Jonah hands me my cell. “It’s going to be at least an hour. They gave me some crappy excuse about how since I’m not in any immediate danger or stranded, I’m not considered a priority.”
“I’m sorry. That stinks.” An hour? I want him to go sit on his car, or pace the driveway, or do anything but be in my sight. I want away from how anxious he makes me and how much he makes me second-guess myself.
Evy sits down at the kitchen table and uses her toe to push the chair next to hers toward him.
“Of course you’re welcome to stay,” I add, but my own invitation is a weak, awkward echo of hers.
“Thanks.” Jonah sits and scans the kitchen. Ours isn’t as immaculate as his. There are fingerprints on the stainless-steel surface of the fridge. Evy’s left a plate by the sink and a soda can on the counter next to a stack of mail she’s gone through and an open catalog she’s doodled on. All of this will have to be cleaned up before the memorial tomorrow.
I look stupid and out of place standing, but don’t feel invited to join them. Which is ridiculous. Evy is my sister, Jonah is my babysitting charge’s older brother.
Who hates me.
But I can fix this—I’ll use this hour to make him like me. Once he does, I’ll get him to come volunteer on Sunday. Then I’ll never have to think about him again.