A sharp rap on the doorframe of Gabe’s bedroom cut through the layers of sleep and yanked him awake. He reached for the other side of the bed and felt for Bex, but all he found was cool sheets and a distinct lack of warm skin beside him.

Well, shit.

“Wakey, wakey.”

Gabe rolled over at the voice, cracking his eyes against the milky morning light, and—poof—all hope that Bex was still here disappeared.

His brother stood in the doorway, wearing an unbuttoned flannel shirt over a Hanes v-neck T-shirt. The kind that came in a pack—three for ten bucks. It was probably seventy-five degrees outside, but Vinny had slouched a knit beanie over his unkempt hair. And for fuck’s sake, he was wearing sunglasses indoors.

“No offense, Vinny, but yours was not the first face I was hoping to see today.”

Vinny grinned, peering over the top of the sunglasses to eye the condom wrappers tossed carelessly on Gabe’s bedside table. “Your girl from last night bailed?”

Sometimes his brother was a master of the obvious. “Looks that way.”

Vinny took a step into the room and propped himself against Gabe’s dresser. “So, at least you’re up now.”

“Yeah, and what the hell is that about, Vinny? I thought you were staying at your hotel.”

His brother shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. “I did stay at my hotel. But someone didn’t show up at brunch like we’d planned, and I figured I should make sure you weren’t dead in a ditch. Excuse me for caring.”

Gabe bolted upright. “I missed brunch? What time is it?”

Vinny consulted his cell phone. “Eleven-thirty.”

“Fuck. On top of everything else, I’m late.” Gabe swung his legs out of bed and waved his brother away from the dresser. “I’ve gotta go.” He threw on a pair of dark selvage jeans, then stalked across the room to yank a crisp, navy button-down from his closet.

“Hot date?”

He slid on the shirt, leaving the top buttons undone and rolling the sleeves to expose his forearms. Unlike some people, he didn’t plan to sweat to death today. “Something like that.”

Vinny laughed. “Guess you’re not too heartbroken over Jessica Rabbit, after all.”

Gabe shot him a look as he crossed back to his bed. “Jessica Rabbit? Really?”

Vinny shrugged. “What? Red hair.”

Gabe reached for the medicine bottle on his bedside table, then shook a pill into his hand and swallowed it dry. “There are so many things wrong with that statement.”

“Well, her tits were a lot smaller. Still perky, though.”

Gabe shook his head. “Can you not?”

Vinny raised his eyebrows. “Oh man, you like her. Can you track her down?”

“It was a one-night stand,” he grumbled. “No digits. So, whatever.”

“Aww, you really like her.”

Despite the fact that Vinny had no idea how he came across to other people, when it came to his brother, he could be way too perceptive sometimes. Maybe that’s what fourteen years of living under the same roof would do for you. Today the four years between them didn’t seem quite as big as it had when they were young.

“I don’t have time for this.” Gabe gave his brother a friendly bump on the shoulder. “Thanks for waking me up. I owe you brunch.”

Vinny rubbed his arm. “Dude, I live across the country and it’s my last day here.”

But Gabe was already out the door.

Gabe wouldn’t exactly call Kevin Holloway a hot date, but the gallery owner did run the hottest art showroom in Las Vegas, and they had an appointment, so it was close enough.

“About time, bud,” Kevin called as Gabe pushed through the Illusion Arts gallery doors three minutes past their appointment time. Kevin had something on his doughy cheeks that he was trying to pass off as a beard, but it was patchy, like someone was trying to grow grass during a drought. There was a reason most people in this town didn’t have front lawns.

“Sorry I’m late,” Gabe said.

“Sure, sure.” Kevin snapped his gum and waved him over to the gallery’s front desk. Gabe passed an armful of artwork as he strode through the showroom—photographs of landscapes alongside abstract paintings and the odd sculpture or two. The art made the whole space feel like a beacon, like a tiny spotlight of something genuine in the epicenter of a world that thrived on sleek appearances and glamour. Not that photography wasn’t its own kind of magic, but still. For that taste of reality, he could deal with Kevin.

“What do you have for me?” Kevin asked, gesturing at him.

Gabe opened his iPad—all the better to hold a whole portfolio of images—and placed it on the counter between them. “Let me just pull up the latest.” He tapped on the screen, and the images he’d stored on the cloud came up, ones from last night at the top of the queue: Bex, in his apartment, her eyes full of laughter, her face saucy as she sauntered toward his couch to strike her fake model pose. Her eyes, full of life, in the next shot, when her facade had cracked and she’d broken into laughter.

The light fucking loved her.

Regret stabbed into Gabe’s stomach and twisted the knife. Why had she been so quick to leave? It was true he hadn’t laid out a welcome mat, but he hadn’t been fully prepared to have his mind blown, either. Last night had been something altogether different for him. He hadn’t just imagined the connection between them. He’d felt it, saw it in Bex’s post-orgasm smile. Results like that deserved some digits, or at least an email address. So where had he gone wrong?

Gabe hadn’t played the game in a while, and it looked like he had gotten played.

“Sorry, wrong pictures.” He scrolled past the photos of Bex and located the images from last weekend’s photo shoot at Red Rocks. In the first shot, the mountains stretched up into the air, the sky so wide that it made you believe infinity was possible.

He smiled, and a warm burst of pride heated his chest. Sometimes photography was the best form of perspective. “No one else has this kind of shot,” he promised Kevin. “To get images like this, you have to be willing to go farther, hike the extra mile.” He wasn’t afraid of going past where everyone else did; he reveled in the challenge.

Gabe pulled up the next photograph—this one where he’d stayed out late to capture a nighttime exposure, the sky a bowl of stars.

Kevin lifted his eyes, but his voice came out flat. “Yeah, these landscapes are great.”

Gabe’s face hardened. “Seriously?”

Kevin nodded. “I’m not bullshitting you. They’re great. But I don’t know if they have that personal connection.” He gestured at the tablet. “Mind if I take a look?”

Gabe nodded, and Kevin flicked through the gallery. His portfolio looked small, somehow, all his images displayed under the meaty pad of Kevin’s thumb.

“Look, here’s an example.” Kevin jabbed his finger at a picture of a busty Vegas showgirl wearing a scrap of sequined fabric and a peacock tail’s worth of feathers.

Gabe sighed. Of course Kevin would pick her. “I need to be known for something other than headshots and commercial photography,” he said. He’d made his career in Las Vegas shooting photographs of aspiring actors, showgirls, call girls—the works—not to mention taking pictures of products of every shape and size. A good photograph could tell a story, sell a brand. And for this, he was the best in the industry.

“Anyway,” Gabe said, “this is all Photoshop and faceTune. And we’re not even counting the fact that this model has fake boobs, tanned skin, and Botox.”

Sometimes everyone blended together here, carbon-copy images of a plastic ideal.

Maybe moving to Vegas had been a stupid plan in the first place, but after New York, he had needed an escape and some sunshine. Something warm in his bones. For the first two years living out here he’d asked himself what the hell he had done, but afterward he’d accepted it—let himself melt into the landscape and appreciate the vista of desert and mountains and sky. And then, after everything else that happened, he’d gotten stuck here.

“Okay, then, how about this girl?” Kevin flicked the portfolio backward, landing on the first image of Bex.

Gabe stiffened, and Kevin pressed on. “I know you want to move up, kid.” He was maybe a few years older than Gabe, and the words fell from his mouth with flat condescension. “Here’s what I can do. I’ll give you an opening in a few weeks, talk you up to our customers a bit.”

“Really?” Gabe’s body sagged against the counter, and tension flowed out of his shoulders. Maybe things were looking up.

“Yes, really. But you gotta get me pictures of something better than Red Rocks or the whole deal is off.” Kevin tapped the iPad again. “I need something like this girl.”

Yeah, Gabe thought as Kevin shoved the iPad back into his hands. He closed the tablet’s cover over Bex’s gorgeous, unattainable face. Me, too.