Page 82 of The Moon Also Rises
“It’s incredible.” Jake’s breathless tone suggests he means it.
“Thank you,” I say. “Do you want a tour? Or a cup of tea? Or something else?”
I didn’t mean to say that in such a leading way and I regret doing so as soon as I hear the hidden connotation, but Jake doesn’t seem shocked, in fact, it seems to make him smile.
“I’ll take a cup of tea, and something else,” he says, nothing mistaken about the emphasis he adds. But then he clarifies, “By which I mean, a chat. I really did call to talk.”
After I have made us both tea – all the while Jake stands at the window and studies the view – I bring it to the large L-shaped couch that dominates the living area, and he meets me there.
“So, what did you want to talk about?” I ask after we are both sitting down.
“Well, this wasn’t on the agenda, but can we talk about how aggravating it is that you look this good in joggers,” he says and pokes the side of my thigh.
“I wasn’t going to greet you in my boxers.”
“Shame. I wouldn’t have minded,” Jake mutters before taking a tentative sip from his mug. “I blame your narrow hips, by the way.”
“You blame what on my hips?”
He rolls his eyes. “Everything.”
I laugh at that and I’m somewhat relieved that this quick wittedness suggests that Jake isn’t as drunk as I previously thought when he called. To be honest, I’m just grateful to see Jake in a different environment from the office as it had become increasingly stuffy as the week had gone on.
“What did you want to talk about, Forester?” I ask and get the reaction I was aiming for when his eyelids lower a little and he gives me a quick side glance.
“What are we going to do about the tension in the office?” he blurts out.
So he’s felt it too.
“I am trying,” I begin. “I’m taking all my calls outside and—”
Jake puts his hand on my arm and that stops me. “You shouldn’t have to do that. Sharon told me on Friday that your office is still weeks away from being ready, maybe even a month or two, so we need to figure this out.”
I run a hand through my stubble and move it to rest on the back of my neck. “I don’t know, Jake. Maybe we’ll just get over it and move on.”
“Get over what?”
“The tension,” I say.
“Forgive my direct use of words but do you mean the sexual tension? Or the tension because we’re not being sexual?”
“Aren’t they one and the same?”
“I suppose they are.” Jake nods at his cup.
“Maybe I should start working from home,” I say. “I’m sure Bill and Simeon wouldn’t mind.”
“Because you’re their favourite,” Jake adds in a low voice.
“Jake, comments like that don’t help,” I say.
“Help what?”“The tension?”
“Oh, are my snide remarks a turn on?”
“I wasn’t—” I begin but then notice him giggling into his cup of tea.
“It’s nice to see you laugh,” I admit.
