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I chuckled and then took a shot from behind my desk. It swished right through the net. “Nothin’ but net!”
“How do you do that? It’s like you don’t even try.”
I shrugged and kicked my feet up on the desk. “Maybe I’m just better than you.”
Jenson grabbed the ball again and lobbed it straight at my head. I held my arms up in front of my face, the ball bouncing off my forearms, and laughed. “Damn, you’re a sore loser!”
“We’re not playing for points. I’m not a sore loser. I’m just sore.” Jenson took another shot and missed again. “Goddammit.”
I stretched my arms up and sighed. “You want to go grab some coffee?”
Jenson’s disappointment in his abilities with the ball transformed into a crooked smile. “What’s gotten into you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re like a whole different person.”
I held back a smile. I couldn’t let Jenson know he’d been right about the whole nanny thing. That’d give him fodder to rib me into the next decade. Plus, things with Cara were under wraps. It was an unspoken thing that our relationship was a private matter.
Although, especially after the night before, I was hoping we would speak to it soon. Cara’s shock at my gift, however, didn’t give me a lot of confidence. I couldn’t read if she was happy or terrified at the prospect of me giving her jewelry. And while I played it off as a simple gesture, I had toiled over what to buy her for days.
When I didn’t respond, Jenson took a moment to clarify. “You’re more relaxed.”
“Well, that’s good.”
Jenson narrowed his eyes. “Are you getting laid?”
Alarm bells went off in my head. “Bro, what the hell?”
“I just have to ask. I know you’d probably tell me if you were, but on the off chance you’re hiding that from me —”
“I’m not. Since when do I have to tell you that I’m getting laid?”
A lopsided smile crept onto Jenson’s lips. “You are, aren’t you?”
“No!”
“Too defensive. You are. Who is it? It’s not Cheyenne, right? Unless this is some hate sex fetish —”
“God, no.”
“But it’s someone.”
I sighed. “Can we drop it?”
“If you’re fucking your nanny and you’re not telling me —”
“I’m not fucking Cara!”
Jenson’s eyes narrowed momentarily, like he saw right through me. I was ready to respond with an even more defensive comeback, which would have proven my guilt ten times over, when my desk phone rang.
Saved by the bell.
“Hello?”
“I have Lisbeth Anderson on the line for you, Mr. Taves,” came the voice of my assistant.
I hadn’t given Lisbeth much thought since finding out about her impending nuptials. Cara had done a great job of keeping me distracted. Which is why hearing her name made my heart plummet all the way to floor.
