Faker - Sarah Smith Page 0,59
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.”
“Fine,” I finally concede. “I can meet you at that ice cream shop in Dundee after work.”
“I’ll pick you up. You shouldn’t have to drive after what you’ve been through.”
I’m too exhausted to fight him, so I agree and give him my address. We hang up, my head spinning.
* * *
• • •
“ARE YOU OKAY?” Jamie asks while seated next to me on a bench outside of the eCreamery Ice Cream. I assume my phony smile is not convincing.
“I’m fine. Like I said on the phone, still very sore.”
I finish the last of my vegan chocolate ice cream and toss the container in a nearby trash can. This past half hour with Jamie has been an awkward mess. Awkward side hug when he picked me up, awkward small talk in the car, sitting in awkward silence while eating our ice cream. I check my phone. Still no message from Tate. I text him that I’m meeting with Jamie for the charity homebuilding project, but that I’ll be free afterward if he’s up for another cuddle session at my place. I want him to know he’s on my mind. I wonder if I’m on his.
“What ideas did you have?” I ask.
The half smile Jamie shoots me has lost its intriguing luster. The guy who set my pulse on fire when we first met doesn’t even register on my internal Richter scale. Whatever