CHAPTER135
I catch Jake glaring at me across the table and stop twisting my hair for the fiftieth time; he’s been touchy this entire trip.
Who would have thought a week’s worth of screwing leggy bimbos would actually make him more goddamn sulky?
I thought sex was meant to put men in a great mood. It must have been awful sex.
I look him up and down trying to appraise that possibility.
I’m sure he couldn’t do bad sex, if I’m being honest. He has more stamina than most humans I know, and he’s a naturally attentive man. I wonder if women can make sex shitty even if they’re being bedded by a ‘sexpert’. Even though I don’t have carnal knowledge of his bedhopping habits, I am pretty sure his confidence is a great hint that he doesn’t have complaints in the bedroom.
He’s barking orders at his cell, and I’m glad it’s not me on the receiving end. A bear with a sore head certainly describes his mood these past forty-eight hours. The lawyers in the next room are moaning and whining over his absence, and I’m sitting here waiting with pen in hand for the notes he wants me to take.
It’s well past lunchtime and I’m hungry. We haven’t stopped to eat yet, and my hair is sticking to my face in this oppressive heat. I regret not being able to tie it up and keep blowing it away.
We’re back in Vegas, same business, second time round, and I wasn’t prepared for the soaring temperatures. I move in my jacket uncomfortably and catch another glare.
God’s sake!
He’s been all over me these past two days, tugging my hands out of my hair, slapping my fingers when I play with my pen, and now I’m getting the eye assault for moving in my chair.
What’s eating Grouchy?
I’m the model of professionalism ninety-nine percent of the time; he can’t be pissed over the one percent which fidgets under duress. Especially when he’s the cause of it.
“Emma?” he barks and snaps up my attention.
“What?” I sound equally snarky; he’s been a bastard since the flight, so he can have some snark back at him. He glowers at my tone of voice.
“I need those memos re-sent to Walters in New York; the idiot’s lost them on the system.” He’s still glaring like that’s my fault.
Great!
I sigh heavily and pull out my tablet, but he kicks my foot under the table making me jump.
“Ouch!” I react more from the fright than any actual pain; he didn’t actually hurt me but still… jerk!
He’s glaring again, and I bite my lip to curb a cuss word.
What the actual hell?
“What was that for?” I snap angrily.
“Stop pouting and rolling your fucking eyes when I tell you to do something,” he snaps angrily and slumps back to his call, growling at the world in general.
Wow. Jake has a whole new level of pissed off, it seems.
Fuck off!
This is how the last forty-eight hours have been; my once charming boss is now an asshole, irritating-as-shit, dickhead of a boss who’s been riding my back about everything. He’s made me re-do a million menial tasks that my assistant could have dealt with, and he’s snarked at me incessantly. If anyone has a PMS issue, it is him, not me. I have the urge to throw a tampon at him.
For the love of God.
Even for Jake, the moodiness of the last two days has been completely out of character.
“I’m pretty sure kicking me breaks all sorts of employment rules,” I hiss, throwing a warning look frostily.
“I’m sure rolling your eyes and scowling at the boss will get your resumé chucked at you.”"
