Page 35 of Heartless Boss
He nods. “Yeah, my ma used to play their songs while she’d clean the house when I was a kid, and ever since then I’ve been hooked on seventies and eighties bands.”
“Oh.” I yawn. “Maybe we can swap playlists. I listen to everything from rap to rock.”
“Sure.”
“Thanks for everything.” I’m not just thanking him for calming me down from my fear, but for everything he has done for me.
“Enjoy the music, Rainbow.”
* * *
The rest of the jet ride wasn’t bad; it’s still not my favorite thing to do. At least I faced my fear of flying, but I won’t be getting on one unless I have to.
Gunner rents a convertible Jaguar, and we cruise downtown with the roof down. I like the smell of crisp, sweet, and clean air. Green trees perch on every corner. Taxi and food stands don’t clog the street like in New York City. They don’t have a subway—instead, they rely on the bus. The buildings are as tall as the ones back at home and the weather is scorching hot.
Atlanta is gorgeous and sweet. Just like a unicorn cake.
When I glance at Gunner, his veiny hand rests on the gearshift and the other one is on the steering wheel. He looks breathtaking with his white V-neck shirt and faded jeans.
Things have changed between us. I don’t know if it’s a good change or a bad change. The more I hang out with him, the more I realize he isn’t a wolf in sheep’s clothing. This is dangerous for my stitched heart. I can’t fall for him and I won’t.
You’re a gullible, stupid heart, I say inwardly.And you’re going to get us hurt again.So stop going haywire.
Gunner twitches his mouth as he speaks to Oliver through his Bluetooth.
“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.” He taps the button on his earpiece, ending the call. “You hungry?” he asks, tapping his finger on the gearshift.
“Yeah.” I didn’t eat anything this morning, I was too anxious about flying. My stomach makes an angry growl, demanding I feed it.
Twenty-something minutes later, we pull up to a diner. When I step out, I strap my purse and camera bag over my yellow sundress decorated in white flowers. Instead of choosing my rainbow socks today, I chose my white and yellow striped knee-high socks along with bubblegum oxford heels. Inside the restaurant, the air conditioner cools off my heated skin as we follow the hostess, who’s wearing a white T-shirt and dark jeans, to a booth. As I slide in on the opposite side of him, she hands us our menu and tells us to enjoy.
Scanning the menu, I look for the non-breakfast section.
“Don’t worry, they serve lunch and dinner.” He turns his menu over and points to the bottom of the page. “Watching you with earbuds in your ears, dancing around in the kitchen, making a grilled cheese sandwich in the morning is one of my favorite things to do.” He says it casually like it isn’t at all creepy.
My cheeks flush as I bite my bottom lip to keep from smiling. When I don’t think he’s paying attention, he does.
He’s still studying the menu as I set mine on the red and white checkered tablecloth. I’ve never been a fan of breakfast food. I don’t like how eggs taste on my tongue or the texture of bacon. In general, breakfast food tastes like eating dry wood.
“Not only are you a pervert, but you’re also a creep,” I joke.
Before he can respond, a waitress with neon-blue eyes and gold, wavy hair, wearing the same exact outfit as the hostess, appears at our table. I order myself a double cheeseburger with no tomatoes, and Gunner orders himself sausage, grits, and bacon. He tells the waitress to make sure that the items on his plate don’t touch. She collects our menus and leaves.
“We’re going to the aquarium and to a ca—”
“Hold up, Gunner,” I cut him off as the waitress comes back with our food, and I smile at her before she leaves. “I thought this was a business trip.”
“It is. But we can have some fun while we’re here.” He pushes each item of food away from each other to be sure they won’t touch.
This feels like more of a getaway with the person you’re dating than a business trip, but if I have a chance to explore a new city, I guess I’m okay with it.
Traveling has never been on my bucket list because I never thought I would be able to afford it. And I don’t set myself up for unrealistic goals or dreams, that’s why I gave up my dream to own a bakery. Life screwed me over the moment I popped out my mom’s womb.
I grab my camera from my bag, click on the red button, powering it up. As soon as it’s alive, I snap a few pictures of Gunner and place it in my bag.
“If you’re gonna take pictures of me I suggest you use them as inspiration to fuck yourself,” he says, between bites and I stick my index finger in my mouth and pretend to gag.
“No, I’m going to hang them in my room and throw darts at them. Or draw horns sticking out from your head and write ‘I hate Gunner Underwood’ on it.”
