Page 71 of Boss Me

“Gracias, señor,” Ben said. “I think we’ve got it from here.”

The waiter looked at me, and I nodded. He stacked the appetizer plates on a tray and carried them away down the path toward the resort.

“Cooper, this is too good to pass up. Try a bite.” Ben reached across the table and held his fork to my lips. Without looking, I closed my mouth around it. Some type of fish, light and flaky. Ben pulled the fork away. “Good, right?” His voice had gone breathy.

Maybe I didn’t need to wait. Maybe this moment, sharing delicious food, the breeze ruffling our hair, the sound of the waves in the background, was the right one.

“Ben, I—I want to keep doing this.”

“Having romantic meals together? I’m definitely on board with that.” He winked and took another bite of the fish.

“Yes, and…and the rest of it. Going shopping together. Taking you on dates. And I want you to move into my bedroom.”

He slipped his foot into my lap and pressed his heel into my groin. “You do? I like the sound of that.”

I muttered a curse and took his teasing foot in my hand. I kneaded his sandy instep.

“I want you to”—I swallowed—“be part of my life.”

His foot jerked out of my hand, and the languid haze cleared from his eyes. “Part of your life?”

I reached across the table, palm up, and he set his hand in mine. The touch reassured me, gave me courage to proceed. “I want you.” I cleared my throat. “Permanently.”

“Permanently?” He gripped my hand. “Like, forever?”

I took in a full breath, no longer constricted by a squeeze on my chest. “Forever.”

He eased his grip and traced a circle on my wrist that made me shiver. “Even after you go back to work?”

The shiver turned into an icy rush through my body. Work? He wanted to talk about that now, when I was cutting myself open for him? “Fuck work. Fuck Synergy.” Fuck Jackson. “I want you, Ben. Can’t you see that?”

“Even if I don’t work there anymore, I care about people who do. You can’t give up on Synergy. Not for me.”

Too late. “I’ve never felt free like I have here, on the island with you. I don’t want to go back. Not anytime soon. Maybe not ever.”

His eyes went soft, but his voice didn’t. “They need you back at Synergy. Marlee. My sister, Mimi. And Jackson. Your friend.”

I clenched my jaw. “Synergy—and Jackson—will survive if I’m there or not. If I sell down to my last fucking share. But I don’t give a shit about anything back there. We don’t have to go back to San Francisco. We could stay here. Aren’t you happy here?” The island agreed with him. His olive skin had gone golden in the sun, and his dark hair had sunset-red streaks in it. But Ben was beautiful even under the fluorescents in the office.

He took away my lifeline and raked both hands through his hair. “I can’t stay here. I have a life. Family. School.”

“We can work through all that. Remote school. Visits to the mainland. Even bringing our families here.” Mamá would love being back with family. Sometimes I thought I—and her church ladies—were the only things keeping her in the U.S.

“I don’t know if you know this”—I gave him my winning smile—“but I’m rich as hell. Neither one of us has to work another day in our lives.”

I’d expected his face to light up at that, at the thought of sharing everything I had, but his lips tightened. “I don’t want to be dependent on you, Cooper. Not like that.”

Cold whipped through me. “You used to rely on me for a paycheck. How would this be any different?”

He blinked down at his plate. “I—I don’t know. Even when I hit bottom and my parents wanted to help, I wouldn’t take their money. I guess I had to prove I could make it on my own. I’ve worked hard to build up a life for myself. Maybe it’s not great, but it’s mine, you know?”

The image of Ben alone in a homeless shelter made my blood go from icy cold to a full boil. “Why the fuck would you want that? I have everything, and I’m offering it to you!”

His eyes glittered in the setting sun. “You’re not offering me everything, are you? I told you all about what happened to me growing up. But you haven’t told me a single thing about your life before Jackson Jones.”

My stomach churned. If I told him, those kind eyes of his would turn hard with judgment. Or worse, pity. “You don’t want that.”

“Of course I do,” he snapped.

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