Page 60 of Big Boss
Everything about today was supposed to be on a schedule, but as usual, the hottest man on earth is ruining all of my plans.
Ordinarily, I wouldn’t mind being late because we’re making out, but I happen to have a secret agenda for today that this infuriating man doesn’t have a clue about.
I love having surprises for Donovan. He absolutely hates being surprised in any way, shape, or form, and I can’t resist forcing him out of his comfort zone. He’s so endlessly polite that he always pretends to enjoy whatever it is, but then he punishes me for it later.
So basically, it’s a win-win.
But I’m confident that today’s surprise is going to be a good one. Maybe the first that he truly enjoys. Assuming we’re not too late to make it happen.
“Why don’t you let me drive?” I ask, feigning an innocence that I definitely don’t possess.
Tate stares at me and his mouth tightens into that stern, disapproving look that never fails to get me heated, and then shakes his head.
“Not a chance after that so-calledfender benderlast month.”
I sulk. “That tree jumped right out at me. Besides, what kind of person teaches his girlfriend to drive on a car that costs about as much as a small mansion?”
“Me. That kind of person is me, Erica.”
I shake my head and hold out my hand for the keys. “Come on, Bossy. Don’t you want to see how well I’m doing? There aren’t any dangerous lunging trees on the way to where we’re going.”
He protests some more, but I eventually win him over to my way of thinking. He always capitulates sooner or later, unless it’s in terms of sex, in which case Donovan Tate is the type of man who is always in charge.
Phew. I’m definitely going to have to get my mind out of the gutter immediately or I’ll probably wreck the car for real this time.
I flip on the radio in the fancy vehicle, and one of Tate’s newest songs is playing. Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get used to spending time with and around someone who is so naturally talented at what he does.
I’ve watched him compose more and more new music over the last year, and it seems like he’s in no danger of slowing down at all. The songs are pouring out of him faster than he can record them, and the demand for his new, stripped-down music style far surpasses the leftover, tacky kitsch of his last big release.
His dirtbag father can absolutely choke. Now people can see Donovan Tate for the talented musician he is, rather than an anime villain version of a boy band heartthrob.
To celebrate, I put his own little platinum record plaque right behind that behemoth of a desk. I also redecorated one evening and took down all those awful prints of him and his bandmates eating fruits in a distinctly lust-filled manner.
I don’t know what the other guys ended up doing with theirs, but Tate’s papaya picture is on the wall of our bedroom, and it’s never going to stop being funny to me.
The wind ruffles through his shorter hair as I drive us to a large, empty lot with a huge screen in the front. I love his shorter hairstyle, but I liked him with his long lion’s mane of hair, too. Honestly, there’s absolutely nothing I don’t like about having this man in my life.
I guarantee that I’m the luckiest person in the world to be loved by someone like him, a man of rare talent and exceptional character.
“Why are we at a deserted drive-in, Erica?” His voice is even, but has that little undercurrent of danger to it that makes goosebumps break out along my arms. He’s definitely already debating how he’s going to punish me for this one.
“Oh wow, would you look at that.” I am the absolute worst actress in the world, so he rolls his eyes at my feigned surprise. “It looks like there’s a private showing, just for the two of us, Mister Bossy.”
His hand slides up to the base of my neck, and I want to purr at his touch. But no, this is definitely not the time to get distracted by sexy thoughts. We were almost late to the best surprise I have ever planned.
Better than when I chased him to his office and made him hire me to be his assistant. Better than when I chased off Bella LeGrande from the lobby, and also better than when I showed up unexpectedly at his gala and we ended up making out a lot and promising to live happily ever after together.
Well, let’s see how that goes after this surprise of mine plays out.
From somewhere behind us, the projector starts to run, but instead of the usual B-list film trailers, a group of band students starts playing that horrible song, Eating Out.
I watch the entire gamut of emotion cross Donovan Tate’s face. He hates that song more than any other one ever created, but as soon as he sees who’s playing, it’s like watching the sunlight stream through a bevy of dark clouds.
The First Steps Band is made of middle and high school kids with diagnosed learning disabilities like dyslexia. At my urging, he also started targeting kids who are on the autism spectrum, like Ethan’s daughter, Katy.
It is by far the most pure expression of Tate’s love for music that he beams up at the screen watching these kids play the song that has caused so much anguish in his life.
“Okay, that was both the best and the worst, Erica.” His eyes rest on my face with a look of singular intensity that I know far too well. “But I’m still going to make you pay for this later.”
