To My Arrogant Boss (The Inappropriate Bachelors #2) - J. S. Cooper Page 0,9

at the Miss America pageant—though who was I kidding? I wasn’t suave enough to represent any state. I was more like Sandra Bullock's character in Miss Congeniality.

Seconds after I sat down at my desk, Magnolia was standing next to me, a wide smile on her face. “Magnolia Bond reporting in for duty.” She saluted me and then made a face. “I don’t think that makes sense, does it?” She laughed. “So, any luck?”

“Yes,” I whispered, hoping she’d get the message and keep her voice down. “I took a photo. I’ll text it to you.”

“Sounds good,” she said loudly. She winked and headed back to her desk.

I stared at the computer monitor in front of me, trying to convince myself to go through my emails. I had work to do, after all. Maybe I would read and respond to three emails and then reward myself for my work by reading Tate’s response. I grabbed my mouse and clicked on the first email in my inbox, but my eyes glazed over every time I tried to get through it. I sat back in resignation. I needed to read Tate’s note and I needed to read it now. There was no waiting and rewarding myself. That was like when people bought a slice of cake and told themselves they would only eat it if they worked out for an hour. We all know that any fat ass who’s planning to reward themselves with cake after a workout probably isn’t going to work out in the first place. I knew that because my fat ass had often found itself sitting on my couch eating tres leches instead of going to hot yoga with my roommates. I grabbed my phone and scrolled to the photos and quickly enlarged it as much as I could to read it.

To My Secret Not Admirer,

You sure are brave in your note. Are you this brave in person? Are you daring? If so, how daring are you? I’ve a feeling that you’re not very daring at all. Have you ever had anal while a guy eats you out? If you need to ask how that’s possible, you just answered my question. I don’t think I’m God’s gift to women—I know I am. Have you never read the Book of Tate? It's right after Matthew, but before Mark.

Is that blasphemy to say that there’s a book in the bible named after me? Do you want to punish me? I’m very open to women, big and small, if that’s why you don’t want to expose yourself to me. I’m not into plastic titties though, so if you’re who I think you might be, please keep moving.

I do want to know more about you and what was the point of your note—other than to cream your panties writing my name.

The one, the only, the super-hung Tate Howard

P.S. My father being rich has nothing to do with the fact that I can make you come four times before you can even say Big Daddy.

I was so busy trying to pick up my jaw from the table that I almost forgot to forward the photo onto Magnolia. Was this guy for real? Did he really think he was all that? Obviously, he did. He was clearly very confident about his skills in the bedroom. I blushed as I read his words again. Tate Howard was a wolf and not the sexy, possessive kind, either. He was the sort of guy who would eat me up, spit me out, and not think twice about it. He was the sort of guy that I should run away from. But of course, I was never very good at running. He was definitely not the guy who should take my virginity. Tate Howard was not the guy that should be any woman’s first. Not at all.

That’s what my brain said, anyway. A completely different part of me was hinting that perhaps he would and could be the best first ever. Somehow, I’d gotten to the age of twenty-four years and was still a virgin. Part of it had to do with the fact that my parents were overprotective and my brother had scared off every guy I’d dated in high school. Then I’d gone to college, but because UCLA was in Los Angeles, I’d saved money by living at home. Between school and working in my parents’ restaurant on the weekends, I’d just never really had a super-serious relationship. And certainly not one with anyone I’d been willing to