Page 49 of Boss Me

He was still watching me. “Good book?”

“Yeah, I love this one. Twisty.”

Why the fuck had I said “twisty”? Because now all I could think about was the curl at the center of Ben’s forehead that I wanted to twist around my finger. I’d never been so glad for the island’s humidity. It had thoroughly vanquished Ben’s haircare regimen, and his curls sprung free and loose at the end of the day.

He ran a hand through them, but the one at the front flopped back over his forehead. I clenched my hand to keep from reaching for it. I couldn’t touch him. I was his boss. What Jamila said about staying together on the island was a dream. He cared about me, but not like that.

I smoothed the page, pretending to read. “Getting good work done?”

“Yeah, I’m almost finished drafting this paper for my econ class.”

Econ? Ben didn’t seem like the business type. He was a fantastic assistant, but he never seemed curious about the inner workings of Synergy. I’d figured he was studying something more people-focused. “Is that your major?”

His cheeks pinked at the tops, and he hit a couple of keys on the keyboard before he set the laptop on the coffee table and turned to face me, one knee bent on the seat cushion. “I’m majoring in business. For the job prospects.” He stared at his knees.

“For the job prospects?” I echoed. “It’s a great field. But it’s not what you love, is it?”

He didn’t look up. “Not really.”

I leaned toward him. “What, Ben? What do you love?”

I watched him swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I love…working with kids. I want to help them. I’ll never be able to do it the way you do, with your foundation and your programs and all. But maybe I’ll have a little spare cash I can give. And time to volunteer. I work at the shelter on the weekends, but…” He shook his head. “I like working with individual kids. Kids who are in trouble, like I was.” He closed his mouth tight, like he hadn’t meant to say it.

“You were in trouble?” I couldn’t imagine cool, buttoned-up, stylish Ben ever in trouble. Then I remembered my own youthful troubles, the black eyes I’d had to explain to my teachers, the bruises I’d hidden during gym class by changing in the toilet stall. Heat rose in my chest. No one had hurt Ben like that, had they? My heart kicked into a faster rhythm, and my hand curled into a fist.

“I—” He let out a nervous chuckle. “My sister says I keep my heart outside my body, where anyone can hurt it. And freshman year of college, I let someone—my boyfriend—hurt me. Emotionally,” he rushed to say, laying his hand on my fist.

The touch cooled my blood and sent it back to my heart, where it slowed the angry pounding. I loosened my fingers under his.

“I flunked all my classes, and then I was too embarrassed—too fucked-up—to go home and tell my parents. So I couch-surfed for a while, but then I ended up on the street. And I—shit, why am I telling you this?”

I flipped my hand over and clutched his. “I want to hear it, Ben. If you don’t mind telling me.”

He stared at our joined hands. Fuck, I was holding my assistant’s hand. I released my hold on him, but he tightened his grip.

“I got into trouble. With the cops. But instead of sending me to jail, the judge sent me to a program. They let me live there, and they—well, the director, a guy named Victor—helped me get back on my feet. Found me a job in a diner. If it hadn’t been for him, I don’t know what would’ve happened to me. I mean”—he looked up at me, his eyes big—“I have great parents. Supportive. They wanted me to come home. But I—I couldn’t. Not then. Anyway, I wish I could be like Victor. And help other kids who’ve gotten themselves in trouble and need a hand up.”

“That’s—” I stared at our joined hands, his paler, smaller one in mine. “That’s—” My brain was stuck in neutral. I heard every word, but his grip on me made everything slow. Easy. Peaceful.

“That’s beautiful.” I meant everything he told me. And more. The lamplight gleaming in his dark locks. The seriousness of those golden-brown eyes that absorbed every concern of mine and vaporized it. All I wanted to do was hold Ben with my hands, with my gaze, forever.

But I couldn’t. He was so much more than I’d known. Resilient. Strong. Too strong for me to hurt? No. My smashed desk was proof.

Besides, he was still my employee.

I ripped my hand from his. “I—I’m going for a swim.”

I strode out onto the deck and took a couple of breaths of the sticky air. The pool looked cool and inviting.

Damn it, I’d come out here with no suit. Mine was in the house. But I couldn’t walk past Ben. I’d never withstand the temptation to take him in my arms and kiss the hell out of him.

“Fuck it,” I mumbled. I stepped out of the puddle of light coming from the house and stripped off my shirt and shorts. Wearing my boxer briefs, I dove into the pool and stayed submerged as long as I could. The pressure of the water, the coolness against my skin, even the burning in my lungs grounded me. Reminded me that I was Cooper Fallon, and I didn’t deserve anyone’s love. Certainly not Ben’s. Jesus Christ, he wanted to work with at-risk kids. Even that damned hound knew Ben was gentle and good, not dangerous like me.

At last, the squeeze in my lungs forced me to the surface. Gasping, I shook the water out of my eyes and tipped to float on my back. I gazed up at the moon, white and serene. That was how I needed to be. Cold. Hard. Separated from life by thousands of miles and the emptiness of space.

“Mind if I join you?”

I curled into myself and spun to face Ben, who stood on the side of the pool.

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