father of two (with one more on the way) that he was. He also looked worried. “Natasha said she had to settle for spritzing you from afar with the shower nozzle.”
“Aha.” Damon patted himself. “That explains the dampness. For a minute, I thought I had something to be worried about.”
“You do.” Soberly, Jason took away the vodka bottle. His gaze met Damon’s, incongruously reminding him of similar but happier circumstances during their bachelor days. “Also,” his friend went on, “I think she can’t stand seeing you this way anymore. You’ve been on a real bender, bro. For a while now—”
“Bender?” Damon scoffed. “What do you know about a bender? To you, staying up past ten o’clock is a wild night. You haven’t been anyplace fun in ages—despite multiple invitations.” From him , in fact, and others. “You wouldn’t know a good time if it danced a tango and then bit you on the ass. So before you start telling me to rein it in, bro , you might want to wait for a topic you actually know something about first.”
“I’m married. I have kids. I have responsibilities,” Jason said. “So, yeah ... I don’t stay out late. But that doesn’t mean I can’t see the truth. What you’re doing to yourself isn’t good.”
“Right.” Irately, Damon eyed the vodka bottle. He didn’t really want more of it. Despite Jason’s worrywart routine and Natasha’s supposed frustration with him, he knew his limits. He knew he’d neared them. “Because if someone said you could date supermodels, go skydiving with basketball stars, run your own company, make a bazillion dollars, have superhot sex every day—”
“I do have superhot sex every day,” Jason interrupted smugly—and implausibly. “Marriage is awesome. Amy is awesome.”
“—go where you wanted, do what you wanted, win at every blackjack table in this damn city,” Damon forged on, remembering his unending lucky streak at the casino downstairs, “and have everything you touch turn to freaking gold , you would say no?”
Jason nodded. “I would say no. I’m happy as I am.”
Disbelievingly, Damon stared at him. “The hell you are.”
“It’s true. You don’t get it. Maybe you never will.”
Damon swore. “I can’t believe this. If Natasha really sent you in here—to do this, today—she has a mile-wide mean streak.”
“What Natasha has is a mile-wide streak of softheartedness and compassion for you , dumbass.” Jason gave him an atypically flinty look. “In fact, I’m glad she called me. I say it’s about time she wised up and quit taking your shit.”
Damon went still. It was possible his heart actually stopped. He clutched his covers. “She didn’t leave, did she?”
He’d lived with that doomsday scenario hanging over him for years now. For one impossibly brutal moment, Jason was quiet, allowing Damon to speculate that it had finally come to pass.
Then, “No. She went shopping. She promised to bring home a souvenir for her mother-in-law. And of course she wants to bring home something neat for—” Abruptly, Jason stopped talking. A canny look spread over his face. “Tell you what: I’ll forfeit all the new computers for the accounting department, right now, if you can tell me who else Natasha’s shopping for.”
Damon nearly exploded with exasperation. “Why the hell does everyone keep quizzing me about Natasha’s personal life?”
Jason looked even more self-satisfied. “You give up, then?”
“No. I just feel like taking that shower now, that’s all.”
With dignity, Damon flung back the covers. He couldn’t help noticing that he seemed to be wearing ... a fringed suede loincloth?
Damon gawked down at himself. “What the hell?”
“Your partner in crime last night was a member of one of those French acrobatic troupes.” Jason took pains to put on a straight face. “She probably got you to wear it ... Tarzan.”
Irritably, Damon flipped him his middle finger.
“Natasha must
“Aha.” Damon patted himself. “That explains the dampness. For a minute, I thought I had something to be worried about.”
“You do.” Soberly, Jason took away the vodka bottle. His gaze met Damon’s, incongruously reminding him of similar but happier circumstances during their bachelor days. “Also,” his friend went on, “I think she can’t stand seeing you this way anymore. You’ve been on a real bender, bro. For a while now—”
“Bender?” Damon scoffed. “What do you know about a bender? To you, staying up past ten o’clock is a wild night. You haven’t been anyplace fun in ages—despite multiple invitations.” From him , in fact, and others. “You wouldn’t know a good time if it danced a tango and then bit you on the ass. So before you start telling me to rein it in, bro , you might want to wait for a topic you actually know something about first.”
“I’m married. I have kids. I have responsibilities,” Jason said. “So, yeah ... I don’t stay out late. But that doesn’t mean I can’t see the truth. What you’re doing to yourself isn’t good.”
“Right.” Irately, Damon eyed the vodka bottle. He didn’t really want more of it. Despite Jason’s worrywart routine and Natasha’s supposed frustration with him, he knew his limits. He knew he’d neared them. “Because if someone said you could date supermodels, go skydiving with basketball stars, run your own company, make a bazillion dollars, have superhot sex every day—”
“I do have superhot sex every day,” Jason interrupted smugly—and implausibly. “Marriage is awesome. Amy is awesome.”
“—go where you wanted, do what you wanted, win at every blackjack table in this damn city,” Damon forged on, remembering his unending lucky streak at the casino downstairs, “and have everything you touch turn to freaking gold , you would say no?”
Jason nodded. “I would say no. I’m happy as I am.”
Disbelievingly, Damon stared at him. “The hell you are.”
“It’s true. You don’t get it. Maybe you never will.”
Damon swore. “I can’t believe this. If Natasha really sent you in here—to do this, today—she has a mile-wide mean streak.”
“What Natasha has is a mile-wide streak of softheartedness and compassion for you , dumbass.” Jason gave him an atypically flinty look. “In fact, I’m glad she called me. I say it’s about time she wised up and quit taking your shit.”
Damon went still. It was possible his heart actually stopped. He clutched his covers. “She didn’t leave, did she?”
He’d lived with that doomsday scenario hanging over him for years now. For one impossibly brutal moment, Jason was quiet, allowing Damon to speculate that it had finally come to pass.
Then, “No. She went shopping. She promised to bring home a souvenir for her mother-in-law. And of course she wants to bring home something neat for—” Abruptly, Jason stopped talking. A canny look spread over his face. “Tell you what: I’ll forfeit all the new computers for the accounting department, right now, if you can tell me who else Natasha’s shopping for.”
Damon nearly exploded with exasperation. “Why the hell does everyone keep quizzing me about Natasha’s personal life?”
Jason looked even more self-satisfied. “You give up, then?”
“No. I just feel like taking that shower now, that’s all.”
With dignity, Damon flung back the covers. He couldn’t help noticing that he seemed to be wearing ... a fringed suede loincloth?
Damon gawked down at himself. “What the hell?”
“Your partner in crime last night was a member of one of those French acrobatic troupes.” Jason took pains to put on a straight face. “She probably got you to wear it ... Tarzan.”
Irritably, Damon flipped him his middle finger.
“Natasha must
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