The CEO and Her Driver

Chapter 4

I should have known my day was going to end on a terrible note when it took me two hours to fall asleep. I was half stuck on my frustration over being trapped with a strange driver who existed on a high plane of annoyance, with his weird nicknames for everything and his insistence that he worked in a karaoke car, and half distracted by the memories turned into nightmares that the love letter had brought to the surface.

The images all swirled around in my head until I found myself in the thick of dreams that felt so real that I could almost taste the tears that set the scenes to a blurry backdrop. Have you ever had dreams where the visuals aren't clear but the emotions that try to swallow you whole are impossible to ignore? That's what it felt like. It hurt to breathe, to feel, to be anything at all.

The doorbell rang, loud and insistent, yanking me from my deep, mind-numbing sleep. It blared through my apartment, echoing loudly as the doorbell rang over and over demanding to be heard. Rubbing my eyes, I scrambled from the bed, and threw the front door open with little thought to who was going to be on the other side.

"WHAT?!?" I hissed, angry at being woken up five minutes after I had finally managed to fall asleep.

Tate stood there, immaculately dressed in a deep blue suit and a deep red tie that sat slightly askew. His eyes went wide when he saw me. I instinctively looked down and realized I had answered the door wearing a large white t-shirt and nothing else.

The shirt did little to hide my bare legs or anything under the shirt. It was just long enough to cover my butt. OH MY GOSH...

He yanked his eyes away from my outfit and focused on my face at the same moment that I yanked down my shirt. "Is this a new fashion look or something?" His cheeks betrayed his amused tone by taking on a slightly pink tint.

Reaching over to the couch next to the door, I tugged a fuzzy blanket around my shoulders, draping it around myself like an anti-gawking cloak. "What are you doing here?" I asked staring at his shoes, beyond embarrassed.

"If you are going to drag me out of bed at an unholy hour, the least you can do is show up."

"What are you talking about? What are you doing here?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.

"What do you mean what am I doing here? You asked me to pick you up thirty minutes ago!"

"IT'S THREE IN THE MORNING. WHAT ARE YOU ON?" I snapped.

He narrowed his eyes, holding up his phone. "What are you on? It's seven."

"Ah, Frick!" I groaned whirling and running back into my apartment. "Sorry."

Tate leaned against the doorframe, watching me run around my living room. I was torn between hunger, needing a shower, and wanting to just slam the door in his face.

"Come in. I'll be ready in five minutes!" I promised. Lies! my brain shouted in response. "Want coffee?" I asked, pulling the blanket tighter around myself.

Tate shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels watching me run around, a ghost of a smile on his face. "Sure."

"Good. Make some. I'll be right back." He snorted as I ran towards my room, leaving him to figure out how to get the coffee maker to work.

I didn't have time for a shower today. I had to be at a fashion shoot in forty minutes. Instead, I threw off my blanket like an evil villain revealing their identity and chucked clothes around my room like a fashion hurricane, trying to find something quick and comfortable to wear. How I wish I could show up to work in sweats! If it were any other kind of job I would.