Page 25 of Boss Me

His words came out crisper than I expected. “Wardrobe malfunction.”

I raised an eyebrow, and he had the strangest reaction: he smiled. Not the tight-lipped one he gave me in the office after he said, “Good job, Ben.” A real smile with an honest-to-God dimple in his left cheek. I was dressed appropriately for the heat, and still, warmth rushed to my cheeks.

The smile was gone a second later, and he turned to the bartender. “Another, Luis.”

The bartender’s gaze met mine. I shook my head, and he nodded. He scooped ice into a tall glass and filled it from his soda gun. He slid the water to Cooper, who stared at it.

“This isn’t whiskey.”

“Drink up, then I’ll take you to bed.” Shit, that came out wrong. “I mean, your bed.” Dammit, that still wasn’t right. I hadn’t had even one drink, and my cheeks felt like the surface of the sun.

Cooper’s blue eyes went hazy again. “Now I know you’re not Ben. Who the fuck is this, Luis?”

Luis grinned, showcasing two dimples. “Dunno. But I’d let a guy this cute take me to bed.” He winked.

Whoa. I took in Luis’s muscled forearms and flawless, dark skin. Maybe I would use Mimi’s strip of condoms. After I sent Cooper back home.

Cooper stared into his water. “You know I don’t do that, Luis. Not in a long, long, long, long time.”

“I know.” Luis’s lush mouth pinched. “But like I’m always telling you—”

“I know, I know. Everyone deserves love. You’re so full of shit, Luis.” Cooper stared hard at the water again like he could turn it into whiskey through sheer force of will.

I stared at my boss. In the office, he was a block of marble, impenetrable and with ninety-degree angles sharp enough to cut you. Here, in the bar, he sounded suspiciously like me: squishy-soft, vulnerable, and aching for someone to love him.

No. That couldn’t be right. That was the whiskey talking. My boss and I had zero in common.

“Me, full of shit? No more than you are, old friend.” He reached out and patted Cooper’s shoulder. Cooper didn’t flinch away, not like he did when I touched him. “Now, go home and rest.” Luis beckoned with his fingers at someone behind me.

The next second, Ramón stood on Cooper’s other side. He no longer had my bag. “Time to go, señor Fallon.” He wedged a broad shoulder under Cooper’s right arm. I did the same with Cooper’s left, and together we lifted him off the stool and to his feet.

Ramón directed us not through the glass door and into the hotel but toward the deck and carefully down a couple of steps to a crushed-shell path. The sun had started to sink over the water, its orange glare dazzling.

Kicking up shells, we shuffled along the path. The setting sun flickered between the trunks of palm trees, making the experience surreal as dancing at a club with a strobe light. Or maybe that was my jet lag.

I stumbled at a dip in the path, and Cooper’s palm, dangling over my shoulder below where I gripped his arm, seized over my left pec. I shivered at the sensation. What would it feel like to have him do that on purpose? To touch me, to caress my skin the way no one had since Trey?

Trey. I tightened my grip on Cooper’s arm. He said he loved me but then dumped my ass when I needed him. To Trey, I was only good enough for the occasional hookup. Nothing more.

On this, I agreed with Cooper. Luis was full of shit. Love wasn’t right for everyone.

I gave my love freely—too freely, according to Mimi—and never got anything in return. My purpose here was to return Cooper to San Francisco where he belonged. Then I’d forget about my stupid crush on him and pick up some rando at a club. One hundred percent lust, zero percent love. That was what I needed. What I deserved.

Though when would I get another chance to be this close to my boss? I turned my head toward his neck and took a good sniff of him, opening my nose to the cedar of his expensive cologne and the minty undertone that made me shiver when I got too close in the office. But tonight, alcohol seeped from his pores, covering up his irresistible scent with the sickly smell of fermented corn.

Cooper turned his head, his nose an inch from mine. “Whadd’re you doing?”

Fuck, I’d just sniffed my boss, and he’d noticed. I hoped he was too drunk to remember it. I faced the path ahead. “Dragging your sorry ass to your room.”

He chuckled. “Can’t be Ben. Ben doesn’t swear.”

“I can say what I want when I’m going above and beyond my job responsibilities,” I muttered. For real, Cooper was heavy. And neither an international manhunt nor personally dragging my boss out of a beachside bar were anywhere in my job description.

“Above and beyond,” he repeated. “Ben always goes above and beyond. Best assistant I ever had. I love him.”

I stumbled again and almost face-planted into the shell path. Luckily, Ramón’s solid weight served as an anchor, keeping Cooper upright. Grimacing, I tucked myself under Cooper’s sweaty armpit, and we continued down the path.

He loved me? He meant he loved my work. Loved having me as his assistant. That was all. And I was a fool to dream it meant anything more.

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