Page 17 of Boss Me

Mom bustled back into the dining room, making the Shabbat candles flicker. “David was so nice to bring me the papers I needed from the office, I asked him to stay for dessert.”

Behind her, a white guy about my age walked into the room. He wasn’t too much taller than my mother, so around my height. Dark-haired with a close-cropped beard and a good, strong nose, he had that sun-starved look all her associates did from spending too much time in the office.

I rolled my eyes at my sister. Mom had done it again.

“David, you met my husband, Adam, at the party last month. This is my daughter, Miriam, and my son, Benjamin. Ben is finishing his degree in business.”

Mimi didn’t even get a profession. There went my last hope this setup was for her. He was for me. Wonderful.

He shook Mimi’s hand, then mine. Good, strong grip. Long eyelashes fringed his dark eyes. “Shabbat shalom,” he said.

“Shabbat shalom,” I repeated. Jewish, too. Mom was swinging for the fences with David.

She directed him to the seat next to mine. Over cake and coffee, we made small talk about where he grew up, where he went to school, how much he liked environmental law.

Mom pretended to be absorbed in Dad and Mimi’s conversation about the latest stock market scandal, but I could tell she was listening from the way she twitched when David talked about his stellar undergraduate university.

Finally, she jumped in. “Ben took a nontraditional approach to his education. And now he’s working and going to school. He’s going to follow his father into business.”

“Really?” David frowned when I’d told him I was an executive assistant, but now his brown eyes sparked to life. Trey had been the same way. When we first met, he asked me why I wanted to be a secretary.

“Well, not exactly. My dad taught for twenty years before he started his tutoring business. Once I have my degree, I’ll apply for a different job at the company where Mimi and I work. Maybe in marketing.”

“Marketing is a solid choice, Ben.” Mom must’ve seen the way I couldn’t help wrinkling my nose when I talked about my career path. “You know you can’t support yourself doing social work.”

“I know.” We’d gone over and over it until I changed my major. Marketing wasn’t the most thrilling career, but it’d get Mom off my back and launch me off Mimi’s couch.

And I’d leave the sixth floor, Cooper Fallon, and his tempting blue eyes behind me.

David tipped his head. “You don’t sound excited about marketing.”

I refocused on him. His eyes really were pretty with those long lashes. Not as stunning as Cooper’s, but Mom had gone to all this trouble. I pasted a flirty smile on my face. “What do I sound excited about?”

“Well”—he smoothed his hand next to the crisp pleat of his trousers—“you’ve talked a lot about Cooper Fallon.”

I grabbed for my water, wishing it had more ice to cool down my cheeks. I gulped it down and set the glass on the table. “He’s my boss. And he’s amazing. He rose from nothing to create a Fortune 1000 company in less than ten years.”

“Stanford isn’t nothing.” My mother couldn’t stay out of our conversation. “You can do anything with a degree from Stanford. You could—” She pursed her lips. “Why are we talking about Cooper Fallon? You two have so much in common! You both like…”

When she paused too long, I exchanged a glance with David. What did we have in common?

“Causes!” She finally supplied the word. “David cares about the environment—thus, the environmental law. And Ben…”

She’d backed herself into a corner again. She didn’t want to bring up my particular cause because it hit too close to home.

David didn’t know about the minefield he’d sauntered into. “What’s your passion, Ben?”

“I volunteer most weekends at the community center. With at-risk kids.”

David leaned forward. His deep voice and the steady focus of those brown eyes should’ve made me tingle. But, dammit, there was no tingle. No nothing. “Why the community center?”

I shot a glance at my parents, who’d stilled. Better not disclose that sordid history to a stranger, especially one who worked for my mother. So I shrugged like I’d never been handed a threadbare blanket at a shelter. “I’m passionate about homelessness, especially because it disproportionately affects LGBTQ people.”

“Oh. That’s noble of you.”

My mother’s shoulders relaxed. Dad started gathering the empty plates.

I stood and took David’s plate. “Oh, I’m the farthest thing from noble. But a lot of times, shelters are the only things standing between those kids and harm by themselves or others.”

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