Page 135 of Boss of Me
The bite in his tone gives me pause.
“You’re probably right. Some things are better left in the past,” I murmur, tracing his nipple with my finger. “But if she knew what you did for her, protecting her the way you did, I’m sure it would mean a lot to her. She might even?—”
“Treat me better? Love me more?” His voice holds a hard cynical edge. “She wouldn’t.”
He speaks with such certainty that my heart breaks for him. I kiss his chest and stroke his rigid jaw, silently offering comfort as he stares out the windows at the moonlight shimmering on the dark lake.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about Kauai,” he says quietly after a moment. “I’d give anything to be there with you right now.”
“I feel the same. So, so much.” I tip my head back to kiss his chin, smiling when his beard stubble tickles my lips, thicker than the usual amount. “You haven’t been shaving.”
“Haven’t felt like it.”
“Tsk-tsk, Mr. CEO. Totally unacceptable.”
His lips curve into an almost smile.
Sobering after a moment, I say softly, “I’m sorry your father had a relapse. I know how difficult that must have been for you.”
“Not as difficult as it’s gonna be for him,” Gunner mutters with dark satisfaction. “He’s gonna feel like shit when he wakes up, and I couldn’t be fucking happier about that.”
I can’t suppress a smile. “Mrs. Calder told me he rented a Rolls-Royce limo and bribed several staff members to look the other way while he absconded to a casino.”
Gunner grunts in disgust. “That’s why we’re decreasing his monthly allowance. He clearly has too much money and time on his hands. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about him anymore. I’ve had enough of his bullshit for one day.”
We fall silent for a while, each lost in our own private thoughts. There’s so much I want to say, so much I still need to hear from him.
I finally break the silence. “Gunner?”
“What, baby?” he murmurs.
“How did you propose to Laurene?”
His body tenses beneath me, and I swallow.
“What do you mean?” he says slowly.
“Where did you propose to her?”
“Why does it matter?”
“I just want to know. I’m curious.”
There’s a long pause. He’s deliberating over his answer, weighing the potential impact of his words.
“I proposed over dinner at her favorite restaurant,” he finally says. “We had an official engagement party a month later at her parents’ estate on Martha’s Vineyard.”
I trace his collarbone with my fingertips. “When you proposed, did you get down on one knee?”
He hesitates, then shakes his head. “We’d been discussing marriage for a while, so my proposal didn’t come as a complete surprise.”
“Did she cry?”
“No.” There’s a wry note in his voice. “She’s not the sentimental type.”
“But she was happy?”
“Very,” he murmurs.
