Page 79 of Savage Seduction

Ben chuckles. "I can’t say that I have."

"You’re in for a treat. Grab plates and forks, it’s time to eat."

He places the stoneware next to the pan and I serve up the portions. We convene at the kitchen table which had been preset with candles, wine glasses, and napkins. We sit and cut into the food. I take a bite and slowly chew, watching Ben’s expression to see what he thought of his own attempt at making Mexican food.

"Not bad," Ben says.“First time I’ve ever made them. Not sure why I chose something I had no experience with to cook for our date, but hey… it worked.”

I take a second bite. It's not the burned cheese that's the problem, but the unseasoned meat. It's at least edible.First good attempt, Ben.I’m glad he’s young and smart enough to learn new tricks, I think to myself, smiling inwardly. I'd be happy to teach him a few things, and not just in the kitchen.

“You mentioned your grandma. Were you raised by her?” Ben asks as we continue to eat.

I nod. “Sort of.” I take a sip of wine. “It’s a long story.”

“If you don’t mind sharing, I’ve got the time.” The genuine interest in Ben's eyes tugs at me. I rarely speak the truth about my family, but something in Ben’s genuine expression makes me actually want to tell it all.

“There’s not enough wine and enchiladas for me to tell you the whole story tonight, but I can get you started.” Ipause, gathering my thoughts. “The woman who raised me… my abuela, wasn’t technically my grandmother. I don’t know the whole story, and she passed away before telling me what I’ve always longed to know—which was who my birth parents were.”

“Wow,” Ben says. “This must have been so hard for you. How did you find out she wasn’t a blood relative?”

This is one of those stories I wasn’t planning on discussing tonight.I’d better make it vague for now. “When I entered the police academy, they ran a background check on me and there were some anomalies.”

“Like what?” Ben puts his fork down and gives me his full attention.

“There were absolutely no records to be found of my immediate family. No parents, grandparents, siblings… nothing. In fact, there were no records of me prior to my fifth birthday. Oddly enough, that’s about the timeframe my memories start. I can remember standing in abuela’s kitchen. She was telling me I was about to turn five years old the next day. I got scared and ran behind the curtains to hide. She was so sweet and knelt next to me, giving me a hug. She explained I would be the same little boy she’d loved from the moment she first laid eyes on me.”

“Aw, she sounds wonderful.”

“She really was. I miss her every day, and I’m thankful for her love and caring my entire life—even my teen years.” I laugh. “When I came out to her on my eighteenth birthday, I expected her to slap me or something. I didn’t have the foggiest idea what to expect, to be honest.”

“How did she react to you telling her?”

“She gave me a big hug, kissed my forehead and said she would love me no matter what. I would always be her little moco.”

“Moco?” Ben asks.

“Her little booger.” We both laugh.

“What an incredible story,” Ben says and reaches over and takes my hand in his. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

I nod. Other than London, I can’t think of another soul I’d told that to—not even my partner on the police force. I start thinking about how my grandmother would tell me things as I grew up. Always stand up for yourself. Remember to be careful about who you trust with your secrets. Her little words of warning never made me think much about the meaning behind them. Not until right now. Had she raised me not to fully trust people? Did she think there would be a time when I would need to rely only on myself? The more I think about it, the less hungry I am.

I put my fork down and pick up the wine. “Your turn, Ben.”

“My turn for what?” He plays coy.

“Spill your guts. Who is Doctor Ben Cooper? Where did he come from? Where is he going?”

Ben gulps the last of the wine in his glass. “There’s not much to tell. At least nothing as intriguing as you.”

I scoot my chair closer to him and put a hand on his knee. “I really want to know. Plus, I’m already intrigued.”

“Cliff notes version,” Ben says. “Born and raised in Los Angeles to Mr. and Mrs. Cooper of San Francisco, sixth generation. They loved to tell everyone who’d willingly listen… and even some who didn’t.” He laughs. “Anyway, my mom was an anthropologist who taught at USC and my dad was a lawyer. They are both retired now.”

“Nice. You came from some serious brain power.”

Ben pours himself another half glass of red wine. “The thing is though, despite being highly educated, surrounded by people in the LGBTQ+ community all their lives, they still didn’t accept me—notat first.”

“Really? I’m sorry, Ben. Must have been really hard on you. When did you come out to them?”

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