Page 38 of Boss Me

15

BEN

When I knocked on Cooper’s door the next morning, dry cleaning in one hand and a tray of coffees in the other, I knew it was too early. Well, it should’ve been too early. But I knew two things: my boss was an early riser—when he wasn’t drunk or hungover—and he needed exercise. Last night, when I’d touched his arm, I’d practically felt the excess energy zipping through him.

Sure enough, he answered the door. I had no idea if he looked sleep-rumpled or awake because I could. Not. Stop. Staring. At his chest. His naked chest. Muscled, all the way from his thick, flat pecs down to his six-pack abs. A tropical jungle of dark-blond hair across his upper chest and down, down, down below those athletic shorts. My fingers twitched to stroke his golden skin, the mole on his left pec, right above his nipple. That tan nipple strained toward me as if it liked that idea, too. Thank God I clutched his clean suits in one hand and the coffees in the other. Wouldn’t do to be touching my mostly naked boss.

He cleared his throat. “What the hell, Ben? It’s barely seven.” But he took the heavy dry cleaning from me and stepped aside when I moved forward.

I set the coffee on the kitchen counter and fixed my gaze on the plastic-covered clothes in his hand. “Want to put those away and put on a—a shirt? You need exercise, so I figured we could take a run together.” I carefully didn’t wince. I hated running. Too many memories of laps around the high-school track with Coach shouting, “Move, it, Walters!”

Not unlike Coach, Cooper scanned me from my Guardians of the Galaxy T-shirt to my purple Converse. “You can’t run in those shoes.”

“These are the only athletic shoes I’ve got. They’ll be fine. They’re court shoes.”

“Court shoes,” he scoffed. “You’re not running in those. We’ll walk instead.”

Walking sounded much nicer than running. “A walk would be great. In fact, Ramón told me we should walk into town and see Tía’s Garden. What’s that? I didn’t see it on the sheet they gave me of things to do.”

“Ramón,” he growled. At last, he took the dry cleaning from me. “It’s one of those locals-only spots.”

“Ooh! Will you take me? I love seeing places like a local does.”

“Give me a minute.”

It took more than a minute. I was halfway through my coffee when he emerged from the bedroom, showered and shaved, wearing the second shirt and shorts I’d gotten him. The shirt was white with sun-basking green lizards printed on it. I’d thought it was cute, but from Cooper’s thunderous expression, he didn’t.

I held out his coffee to him, carefully averting my eyes from his smooth, bare, chiseled jaw that was somehow even sexier, more touchable, than his naked chest had been. “Ready to go, or did you want to eat something first?”

“Let’s go. I’m sure we’ll find something to eat in town.”

“Ooh, another secret, local spot?”

Cooper only grunted.

It was a good thing I’d drunk half my coffee because I would have spilled a full one at the half-jog I had to maintain to keep up with Cooper’s long strides. We took the shell path to the main resort building and a paved path around it until we reached the circle drive that led onto the road. I knew it wasn’t far to town, a little more than a mile, but I was almost too out of breath to talk. And we needed to talk.

“Can we slow down?” I huffed out.

He stopped so suddenly I almost smacked into his back. Glancing behind me, he said, “We’re being followed.”

I turned and spotted Coco, skulking in the bushes about twenty feet behind us. “It’s okay. It’s only Coco.”

Cooper’s heavy eyebrows lifted. “Coco? You named it?”

“He’s a boy, and of course I named him.” I whistled, and Coco trotted toward us. He slunk the last few feet and cowered behind me.

Cooper wrinkled his nose. “Is that…chamomile?”

“It’s better than what he smelled like before. It’s just the shampoo they had in my room. I used the whole bottle on him.” I reached down and ruffled Coco’s fur.

“He was in your room? What about fleas?” Cooper’s lip curled.

“He had plenty of fleas, all right. A couple of ticks, too. But Ramón helped me give him a flea bath in one of the outdoor showers. It smelled absolutely disgusting, and that’s why I bathed him with the chamomile shampoo. He didn’t like the dryer, though, and I couldn’t let him sleep outside when he was still wet.” I snapped my mouth shut and steeled myself for Cooper’s blow-up about how I wasn’t staying and how it made no sense to make friends with a stray dog.

But he didn’t. He just watched me stroke Coco’s yellow fur for a minute before he turned and continued marching toward town.

“Good boy,” I muttered. Then I jogged to catch up with my boss, Coco trotting at my heels.

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