Just What I Needed(27)

“Morning,” I said and slipped into the chair to his right.

He glanced up and pushed his glasses back in place. “Please tell me you brought donuts or bagels or something not healthy.”

I stared at him. “Dude. In the six years we’ve been partners, have I ever bought donuts for the office?”

“No. But there’s always a first time.” Jase removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

He looked tired and sloppily dressed—at seven thirty in the morning? Not like him at all. “What’s going on?”

“Tiffany has me on a damn diet.”

“Why? You’re in good shape for an old guy.” Jase had hit forty last month and I still owed him payback for the surprise thirtieth birthday party he’d thrown for me last year . . . at a senior citizens center.

“Bite me, asshole. It’s not that kind of a diet.”

“Tiffany on a vegetarian diet kick or something?” His wife, Tiffany, was a doll. Sweet, utterly devoted to him, even if she went a bit overboard sometimes. I attributed her enthusiasm to her age since she was fifteen years younger than Jase. But as far as I knew, they were ridiculously happy together—a happiness that’d been long overdue for my partner, who’d lost his first wife to cancer two years before I’d met him.

“No. It’s a ‘reproduction’ diet. She claims certain foods will build my sperm count because we’re trying to get pregnant.”

I held my hand up. “Say no more. Seriously. My brain shut off after you said sperm.”

“Walker, I have no one else to talk to about this. My friends already have kids, and none of our office staff is married or in a relationship, so suck it up and listen, will ya?”

“Fine. How long have you been trying?”

“Five months. First she started making me wear boxers. Then she took away my nightly soak in the hot tub. Last month we only had sex when she was ovulating. Now I’m on this no-sugar, high-protein diet.” His eyes met mine. “I’m freakin’ sick of steak. There, I said it. I don’t give a damn if my man card is revoked. If I have to eat another fillet I might go vegan.”

It was hard not to laugh. “How long is she enforcing this diet?”

“Her doctor said since Tiff is young and healthy, we should try ‘naturally’ for a year before looking into medical options.”

“So basically in order to get laid all the time, you’ve gotta quit eating stuff that’s bad for you for seven more months?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re getting no sympathy from me, pal. A hot woman, cooking you a hot meal, who is constantly hot to get you in bed? Yeah, your life sucks. A big bowl of ice cream is definitely worth giving all that up.”

Jase blinked slowly, like he was coming out of a fog. “God. You’re right.”

“Say that one more time? No, wait until Betsy gets here so she can record it. Then I’ll have proof.”

“Do I need to brush the dust off the Dictaphone?” Betsy said as she breezed in, holding a bagel in one hand and a coffee mug in the other.

“You’ve heard of a Dictaphone?” I asked.

“Only in the historical context. It was outdated when I started school.” She set the bagel, smeared with pink cream cheese, on the table. For a moment I thought Jase would lunge for it. Then Betsy moved it out of his reach and pointed at him. “This is not on your diet.”

“Tiffany told you that she put me on a diet?”

“Of course. I’m supposed to let her know if I see you eating foods not on the list.”

“You’d tattle on me to my wife?”

“In a heartbeat. Because I, for one, cannot wait until there’s a baby around here to spoil.”

“As much as I’d love to talk about baby bootees and cravings for carbs,” I inserted, “I have a job site to get to. So give us the rundown on last week, Bets.”

Betsy studied me. “You still grumpy about whatever happened to you last week that you refused to talk about?”

“Good question,” Jase said. “Betsy and I tell you about the things in our lives that make us pissy. Maybe you’d be less pissy if you talked it out with us.”

I groaned. “I’ll pass.”

“We’re a team. Or so you’re always telling me,” Betsy retorted. “You were an ass last week, Walker. And not just here. Did you really chew out the driver from the lumber warehouse?”

“Yes, he needs his damn driver’s license revoked. He ran over a freakin’ tree when he was backing in. The tires also ripped the shit out of the yard. So I told him I’d be forwarding the landscaping repair bill to his supervisor and he could explain how he managed to take out a tree and a rock garden on a drop-and-go delivery.”