Page 68 of Boss Me

I winced. I’d said it out loud.

Cooper didn’t seem to mind. He turned slowly to face me, and the blue jacket made his blue eyes fierce. “Then I’ll take it. Just as it is.”

“All done.” José María stood, his knees creaking. “I’ll have one of the boys deliver the garments to your house. Except the first outfit. You will wear that today. Ben, you can wear the red shirt. It does not need alteration.”

“Yes, sir.” I stepped back behind the curtain and put on the red guayabera with my khaki shorts. I didn’t carry it off as naturally as Cooper did his blue shirt, but I looked slightly less like a tourist.

When I walked out with my armful of pinned clothes, Cooper tapped at his phone. He kissed his uncle’s cheek. “Gracias, tío.”

I dug for my wallet. There was no way I had enough cash to cover handmade clothing.

“I got it.” Cooper stayed my hand and held up his phone with his payment app on the screen. “It’s my turn to buy you clothes.”

I’d put his camisas feas on my corporate card, so, actually, he’d bought them. But I didn’t argue. My novio had bought me clothes. My heart tripped in my chest. I’d lost the battle. Not just with Cooper over money. But the one with my too-ready-to-fall heart. “Thank you.”

Outside, Mateo stood, arms crossed, in the shade next to Coco, who gave a joyful bark when we emerged from José María’s shop. He had a leash. Not a brand-new nylon one that we could’ve bought in a pet shop on the mainland. It was soft leather, worn with age. Like it had served many Coconut Hounds who’d decided to self-domesticate. Mateo handed me the end of the leash, and Coco trotted by my side like a natural.

We strolled back to the main street toward where the car was parked. As we passed the spotless windows of the jewelry store, I caught our reflection. We didn’t look like a couple of Americans doing a little shopping in the cute Caribbean village. We looked like a pair of expats, fully adapted to the island style. With a dog on a leash to prove it.

When we reached the car, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to read the message.

Marlee: Weston’s meeting with some people from Gurusoft again this morning. What the hell are you doing?

My eyes went wide. What the hell was I doing? Buying clothes like we were staying for longer than a few more days. And completely forgetting what I had schlepped to the island to do.

I had to get back on track. Ensure Cooper didn’t sell any more Synergy stock. And make him go back to California where he belonged. Where we both belonged.

24

COOPER

On the way back from our shopping trip, I watched Ben’s thumbs fly over his phone.

It had been a good day, walking through town with him, buying him clothes so he’d look like he belonged on the island.

Would it be so bad if we didn’t go back? Jamila said I should do what was best for my mental health, including leaving Synergy and Jackson behind me like the outgrown shell of a hermit crab.

Ben had friends and family back in San Francisco. It might be difficult for him to leave them. But I was a wealthy man, and I had many negotiating tools at my disposal.

While he tapped his phone, I planned my strategy.

He had quit his job so we could be together. Then he’d blushed when I’d slipped and called him mi novio. He seemed to enjoy life on the island. He had made friends with Ramón and the others. Maybe he wanted to be persuaded to stay. But this was too important to leave to hope.

One rule of negotiation is to control the environment. Ben would be most persuadable in a romantic setting. I texted Luis to set up dinner for two just outside my property on the beach, where Ben would be in direct contact with the beauty of the island. And although he would be safer inside the locked gate, it would be important to give him a sense of freedom so he’d know he could walk away if he wanted. My chest burned at the thought of him walking away.

Although I’d made plenty of deals in my career—corporate loans, buyouts, job offers—I’d never been in a personal negotiation with such high stakes. Sure, I’d negotiated with plenty of women to be my temporary girlfriends for some event or another. Once or twice for an entire season’s worth of events. If they didn’t agree to the terms, I could either find someone else—there always seemed to be someone eager to step up—or go alone and build the buzz about my most eligible bachelorhood.

But this was different. I couldn’t walk away from Ben. I’d leave my heart behind if I did. For the first time in years, I was happy. And I’d do almost anything to stay that way.

Ben was still working on his phone, so I reached across the seat and rested my hand on his knee. He looked up, startled, but gave me a quick smile. He continued to type with his left hand and settled his right over my fingers.

The tension left my chest. Ben cared. On that last day in the office, he wrapped my bleeding hand with his handkerchief. Then he came to the island to check on me. To try to convince me to go back. Even though I didn’t deserve it, he cared about me.

Now we were together, he had to realize that staying here was the best choice for me. Nevertheless, I’d bring out the big guns. Flowers. Champagne. That triple-chocolate dessert they made in the resort restaurant that made Jamila swoon.

As soon as we pulled up to the house and opened the doors, Coco sniffed the air and growled.

“What’s the matter, Coco?” Ben asked like the dog would respond in English.

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