Page 31 of Boss Me
The blood rushed into my ears and throbbed in my brain. Thinking was hard. “Don’t know.”
“Did you eat anything today? I left the sandwiches in the fridge for you.”
“No. Luis usually serves me my meals at the bar, but you made me leave.”
The circles stalled for a second and then resumed. “Would you rather eat a sandwich right now or go with me to the restaurant for dinner?”
With me sold it. “Restaurant. But I need to shower and change first.”
“About that—”
“Give me ten minutes.” I launched to my feet and wobbled for a second, but this time my knees held. I strode into the bedroom, flung the door shut behind me, and slid open the closet door. Only suit coats and empty hangers greeted me. Plus my workout clothes, unused on the top shelf. Just like the liquor cabinet.
“Ben!” I roared.
Ben poked his head into the bedroom. “Mr. Fallon, I—”
“Did you also throw away my clothes? Each one of those suits costs more than I pay you in a month.”
“No! I sent them to the laundry. I spoke with the manager, and they sent them to a very high-end dry cleaner in Miami. They’ll be back the day after tomorrow. Meantime, I got you these.” He held out the shopping bag.
I took it from him with two fingers and peered inside. “Is this a joke?”
“It’s island-appropriate clothing. You’ll be much more comfortable.”
I pulled out a collared shirt. The lemon-yellow cotton was printed with pink seashells. “Really?”
“That yellow is going to look fantastic against your…your skin tone.” Ben’s cheeks blazed red, and not from the sunset this time. “There’s shorts, too. I’ll just wait out on the deck.” He was gone before I could respond.
Shorts. And a tropical shirt. I’d look like a tourist. I stared at the ridiculous printed fabric I clutched. Then at the empty hangers in the closet. I wore shorts all the time when I came here. And sometimes, in the privacy of my own pool, far less. But somehow, exposing my arms and legs to Ben, my assistant, was different.
I stroked a finger over one of the printed shells. The unwashed cotton was stiff, the sizing still in it. But he’d bought it for me. Thinking of me.
A few minutes later, I stepped onto the deck, my hair damp, wearing the seashell shirt and khaki shorts. When the ocean breeze hit my exposed skin, it pebbled, making the hairs on my arms and legs stand straight up.
Or maybe that was Ben. Caught up in my nightmare and hunger-tunneled vision, I hadn’t looked at him before. He wore a rose-pink golf shirt and white Bermuda shorts. Before yesterday, I’d never seen his legs. I hadn’t looked then, but I did now. His olive-toned skin was pale under thick, dark hair. His lean thighs and calves had just the right shape and definition.
When he saw me, he stood, his lavender Converse slapping onto the wood. “Ready?” His voice was high and thready. He cleared his throat.
“Yes.” I gestured him through the slider ahead of me and locked it from the inside. We went out the front, and I locked that door, too. As far apart as I could manage, we walked along the path to the main resort.
“It’s really beautiful here,” Ben said, his sneakers crunching over the shells. “Is that why you come? The—the scenery?”
He was my assistant, I reminded myself. Not my friend. So I gave him part of the truth. “I have some connections here on the island. It feels comfortable.”
“Connections…like Luis?” He watched the path ahead. Smart, as sometimes a turtle or a hutia wandered onto it.
“Sure, Luis. And others.” Luis had been my best friend on the island when my mother brought me here as a kid. And Mamá’s family—at least the ones who hadn’t gone to the U.S. like she had—lived nearby. I couldn’t walk into town without seeing at least three cousins and being invited for coffee or a meal. So I hadn’t gone into town.
“Others?” Ben stole a glance at me. Was it the sunset, or were the tips of his ears red? Maybe he’d gotten sunburned.
“Others.” I never talked about my family. The business press would have a field day with it, sending reporters to the island to talk to the people who knew Cooper Fallon best. Then they’d dig up my father, and that was the kind of publicity no one needed.
Ben bit his lip and scanned the darkening path. We crunched along in silence for a minute until the resort’s main building came into view.
“If you, um, meet one of those others and want me to, um, give you some space, just let me know. I understand this isn’t a social thing, Mr. Fallon.” He waved between us but carefully didn’t look at me.
“Ben.” I finally understood what he was saying. I stopped walking, and after a second, he stopped and faced me. “You graciously invited me to dinner. Of course it’s a social thing. And I wouldn’t leave you alone to hook up with someone else.”
