Page 75 of Boss Me

His laugh ruffled my hair. “Okay. Though it was pretty amazing.”

I kissed his cheek and then leaned back. “I’ll show you amazing. After we clean up. And take a nap.”

He blinked his bloodshot eyes. “I like how you think.”

And, like we’d been doing it forever and not just ten days in paradise, he followed me to the bathroom and joined me in the shower.

26

COOPER

“Looks like you two made up.”

I grunted, not letting my gaze leave the hacky sack Mateo kicked my way. I couldn’t believe he’d found the old thing in tía Camelia’s shed. I hadn’t seen one since we were teenagers. I was a little rusty, but I couldn’t let my cousin win. I caught it on my instep, dribbled it, and kicked it back to Mateo.

“When he went to Ramón’s, I thought, eh, maybe you guys were done, and he was ready to move on to someone”—he nodded his chin behind me, and I heard Ramón’s deep belly laugh and then Ben’s higher one—“simpler.”

My eyes burned to see what they were doing. Ben’s laugh had its own key to my heart, and when he laughed with me—at me, more often—I wanted to hoard the sound like treasure.

I kicked the sack high, but Mateo easily headed it back to me. I caught it in the chest, let it drop to my toe, and sent it flying back at Mateo’s groin.

He sidestepped, tapped it with his hip and then his heel, a rainbow over his shoulder, and toed it back to me. “I guess Ben’s just naturally affectionate.”

The sack caught me in the ass because I’d spun around to glare at Ben. But he was ruffling Coco’s ears, and Ramón was six feet away, pouring another one of tía abuela Isobel’s rum punches. If Ben drank too many of those, I’d have to carry him out. Mateo and I had puked our share of them into Camelia’s bushes.

“Asshole,” I growled.

“Can you blame me?” Mateo shrugged, palms up. “You’re too much fun to rile up.”

I picked up the hacky sack and slammed it into his palm. “I’m done. Go play with the other children.”

He stuffed it into his shorts pocket. Then he laid his hand on my shoulder. “It’s good to see you like this. I’m happy for you, primo.”

An unfamiliar feeling, my cheeks stretching wide with a smile, tugged at muscles I hadn’t used in a while. “I’m happy for me, too.” I clapped a hand over his and held it there for a second. Then I flung his hand off me. “I’ll find you when we’re ready to go.”

He saluted me with two fingers before he jogged off to join his nieces and nephews in their game of soccer on tía Camelia’s small patch of lawn.

I turned back toward Ben, who sprawled in a low Adirondack chair and tipped back a cup of Isobel’s pink punch. He was the one who’d dragged me to Sunday brunch with my family. And he seemed to be having a good time, devouring the simple food and practicing his rudimentary Spanish with my relatives. He was at home with my family. With me.

His happiness, his comfort, had become the most important thing to me.

He liked me as I was, ridiculous blow-ups and all. Though I hoped I wouldn’t have as many blow-ups with Ben’s calming influence in my life. And with the new freedom of being less invested in Synergy.

Once I resigned as COO and transitioned my responsibilities, I wouldn’t have to be the perfect executive anymore. I wouldn’t have to jet off to Singapore or Mumbai or London. Or Boston with a day’s notice. I could focus on my family on the island. On helping them. I wouldn’t have to worry about a global corporation’s worth of people, plus all the shareholders and business partners. Only the people who cared about me.

Including Ben.

I could make him happy. He’d find a job, most likely back in California because his family—and his independence—was important to him. But we could visit the island as often as he liked. My family had already taken him in. One of my young cousins handed him a mantecadito, and he stuffed the buttery cookie into his mouth. The child laughed when Ben rolled his eyes back and pretended to swoon.

He’d never have to know the other side of my family. About my father with his alcoholism and his rage and his pummeling fists. I would tell him about Mick so he’d know the danger, both from Mick and from myself as his son. If Ben still wanted to be with me, I’d erect a firewall around him, the same as I’d done with Mamá.

Mamá would love him. She’d recognize his care, his kindness, his obliviousness that anyone could hurt him.

Our eyes met across the garden, and suddenly I wanted to taste the sweetness of the punch on his lips. I prowled toward him, winding my way along the path between Camelia’s flowerbeds. His eyes widened, and a smile teased at the corners of his mouth.

My young cousin skipped away. I couldn’t tell what Ramón was doing or if he was even still there with Ben. My gaze didn’t leave those clear brown eyes of his. When I reached him, I bent at the waist and planted my hands on the wide handrests of the chair. The position put my face right in front of his. His breath came fast through his parted lips.

Slowly, I closed the distance until my lips met his, sticky with sugary punch. I licked away a cookie crumb and then delved my tongue into his mouth. One or two of my relatives hooted at us, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was my Ben and the freedom to walk up and kiss him whenever the hell I wanted.

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