Page 57 of Faker
“What about after lunch?” I’m shameless in my desperation.
“I should have told you: I have to go to a social media seminar this afternoon at the DoubleTree. Today’s a half day for me.”
I groan and pound lightly on his chest. “You’re killing me.”
He grabs both of my arms and pins them behind my back. Something hard and blunt pokes me from the front of his pants. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”
He releases me, then folds his hands in front of him to conceal his pants tent. “Okay. Back to work for us. You go first.”
I walk back to my office, a giddy skip in my step. Five minutes later, he returns to his. I can’t help but feel flattered at the thought that it took him five minutes to collect himself after pressing against my body. Leaning around my computer, I steal a quick glance. He’s smiling to himself. When he catches me peeking, he rewards me with a wink. My mind races with all the ways he will make it up to me.
fifteen
By two o’clock I’m deathly bored and turned on. My cell phone rings, and I jump to answer it, hoping it’s Tate. When I look at the screen, I freeze. It’s Jamie. Crap.
“Emmie! How are you? Are you okay?” He sounds concerned.
“Hi, yeah, I’m good. Thanks.”
“I was so worried when I didn’t hear from you after you went to the hospital.”
“Well, I’m fine now.” It’s like I’m reading from a cue card. I wonder if he can pick up on the disinterest in my voice. I register the plush bear propped against the chair in the corner of my office. “And thank you so much for the gift.”
“I thought you’d like it.” I can tell he’s smiling. “How’d your surgery go? Are you recovering okay?”
“It all went well. I’m crazy sore, but I’ll live. Wait, how did you know I had surgery?”
“Tate answered your phone one of the times I called to check on you.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, he was a little short with me. I offered to come see you,but he wouldn’t tell me what hospital you were at. He said he had everything under control and didn’t need my help. And he told me to leave you alone during your recovery, so you could rest. Can you believe that? He’s got that stone-wall jerk personality down.”
I feel a pull of defensiveness for Tate but push it aside.
“Can I see you? It’s been a while, and I’d like to see your pretty face.”
His attempt at a sweet comment makes me cringe. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Look, I appreciate the gift, but I don’t think I’m interested in—”
He chuckles. “Oh no, I don’t mean that. I was hoping to give you some pointers for when you’re able to go back to the worksite. I was chatting with Lynn the other day, and she mentioned the social media project you and Tate are in charge of. She was worried it would fall by the wayside with you being out the past week and a half. I told her I could talk to you and help. I do marketing and promo work in my job too.”
“Oh, that. Sure.”
“Great! How about we chat about it tonight over ice cream? You know what they say. Ice cream after surgery is a must.”
I frown at my lap. I’ve never heard anyone say that. “I, uh—”
“Please? Don’t make me beg.” The whiny, drawn-out way he says “please” is like nails on a chalkboard.
“Shouldn’t Tate be part of this meeting?”
“Sure, if he’s free.”
I glance at the clock. He’ll be at the seminar the rest of the day, maybe the evening. I have no idea; he didn’t give me a time frame.
“Actually, I think he’s busy,” I say.
“That’s okay. You can fill him in on what we discussed.”
