Page 14 of Loaded

It makes me snort, at least. “Not necessary.”

“I’ll decide that, once you tell me who it is and what happened.”

“Nothing at all,” I say. “Happens to you a dozen times a day. Someone asked me out, and I said no.”

He frowns. “Who asked you out?” He scratches his nose. “And why’d you say no?”

I put my headphones back in, hit play, and close my eyes.

“Oh, come on. You’ve told me the worst part. Just give me the details.” He pulls a water bottle out of his little running belt and rips the top off.

“We’re not in high school.”

Suddenly, Jake’s right in front of me, his hands gently taking my headphones out. “Softly, Hornet,” he whispers. “You’re yelling, and now everyone’s looking.”

I peer around his shoulder and notice a few people looking my way. He’s blaming my volume, but that happens every single time I go anywhere with him. It’s probably his fault, so I refuse to apologize.

“Now, who was it? Not the sous chef again?” He drops back onto the seat next to me. “Tomorrow, I’ll show up at work, right after you get there, snog you good, and then you can tell everyone we’re secretly dating.”

That’s an idea so ridiculous it makes me laugh.

“So that’s a no to the semi-public make out?” He takes a huge swig of the water.

“That’s a heck no,” I say. “But it wasn’t her. She’s given up. I think she’s dating the wine supplier, actually.”

“Good for her,” Jake says. “So who do I need to kiss you in front of, then?”

“Jake.”

“What?” he asks. “You’re not really my sister, you know. It would probably fix the problem, once I know where and in front of who to lay one on you.”

“It was Easton Moorland,” I say, expecting him to have no idea who I’m talking about. “That’s Emerson’swife’s brother, who we met at the video game launch party. You challenged him?—”

“I know who it is.” He downs the end of the water, crushes his water bottle, and tosses it into the trash can next to us. It goes right in, as always. Everything for Jake is like that. Effortless. Charmed. He stands up, tosses his head back and forth, and then starts to jog in place. “Let’s go. Long way back.”

Not for him, but to me? Three miles sounds like absolute torture.

“Are you okay?” Jake frowns, tilting his head. “I can jog back, grab my car and come get you.”

That’s why I let him get away with so much crap. At the end of the day, Jake really is a pretty good brother.

“It’s fine.” I drag myself to my feet. “I won’tdieof a little exercise.” A few dozen strides in, and he still hasn’t said a word about Easton. I find it strange. “What? You no longer care about fixing my problem?”

He shrugs. “Like you said, it’s no big deal. You told him no.”

It’s not like Jake to let things go, but he does. It’s. . .bizarre.

About a mile later, when my thighs are cursing me for my stupid burst of energy earlier, and my lungs are screaming that September’s still too hot for running outside in New York, I need a distraction, so I poke the bear. “Tell me why you stopped badgering me when you found out it was Easton Moorland.”

“I didn’t.” Unfortunately for him, I know Jake’s practiced scoff.

“You’re lying,” I say. “I’m probably the only person who can tell.”

“It’s just that.” He stops. “That guy’s a jerk.” His eyes are wide, his expression earnest. For him, that’s rare.

“Whoa. Did you hear me? I told him no.”

“But when did you even see him?” he asks. “Why’d he think you might say yes?”

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