Page 37 of Boss Me

But that was me being selfish. Ben was worried about his job and his education.

“Weston has been part of Synergy for half its existence. He’ll do what’s right by it. And by the employees.”

Ben’s lips twisted to the side like he didn’t buy what I was selling. “The Chairman said something about a hostile takeover?”

“I’m sure Weston’s taking steps to prevent that. He’s got the best interest of the company at heart. I promise.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed for a second, but then he nodded. “Okay. If you say so.”

“I do.”

“But what about Jackson?”

My lungs seized, forcing me to cough. I swigged some water. “What about Jackson?” My voice came out as a growl through my constricted throat.

“He’s there alone to stand up to Weston. If Weston needs standing up to.”

I saw it then. “Did Jackson put you up to this?” Leave it to Jackson to send someone in his place to beg me to come back to work. Fucking Jackson, always wanting, needing something from me. The scraps of friendship I got in return weren’t enough anymore.

Plus, I’d foolishly hoped Ben had come out here for me. He was just a tool Jackson had picked up, clueless that it was exactly the right one to break me.

“No!” The sunset flashed in his eyes. “I came here because I was worried. About you.”

“I don’t need you to fucking worry about me. I’m fine!” I heard that my voice had risen, but I seemed to hover over my own body, separate from the red-faced asshole shouting at the nice man who’d brought him dinner. The nice man whose face had gone from smiling to stony.

During the silence that stretched between us, I heard a rustle down by the pool, and my consciousness slammed back into my body, swimming in the liquid heat that filled it. Who the fuck had Ben brought with him? Who else was joining the pity party? I shoved away from the table, my chair’s legs screeching across the deck boards, and stomped down to the gate. When I yanked it open, a brown flash darted past me.

I whirled around to see a Coconut Hound raised on its hind legs, licking Ben’s face. A fucking dog. Was it the same one as last night, the one he’d fed with his leftover steak? Or had he attracted an entire colony of them while I’d napped? Was I just another stray dog to him, one who needed feeding and walks?

Ben’s eyes widened when he saw the expression on my face, a split second before the anger erupted out of me.

When I strode closer, the dog turned and growled, showing its teeth.

“I came here for me. Because I wanted to. It’s not anyone’s fucking business what I do.” Wildly, I pointed at the pool, the house, the beach. “This isn’t a fucking vacation for anyone except me. You’re not staying. You’re going home tomorrow or you’re fired.” I glared at the dog through a red haze. It bared its teeth and growled louder. “And you can’t keep feeding that fucking feral dog. It’s not a pet. It could bite you!” I slammed my hand on the table, making the dishes jump. A glass of water fell over with a crash.

I stilled. That was what had started this whole mess. Separating myself from Jackson, numbing myself with booze, and spilling my guts to my therapist—none of it had fixed anything.

Ben stood. I put my hand over my eyes so I wouldn’t see him run out through the gate. My throat was raw and tight, and even swallowing didn’t relieve it.

A featherlight touch landed on my arm just below my T-shirt sleeve. “I’m—I’m not leaving.”

The anger drained out, leaving me wobbly like the blaze of it had been the only thing keeping me upright. Despite myself, I leaned into Ben’s touch. He rubbed my arm, up and down, like he’d pet a dog.

But in that moment, I didn’t mind. I didn’t care that I was just another stray dog to him, needing care and affection. And that when he left the island, he’d leave me just like he’d leave that damned dog.

“I’m sorry. Sorry I yelled,” I mumbled. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was all I could think to say. If I opened my mouth again, I might say something I’d regret even more. Beg him to stay. With me. I couldn’t want that. Couldn’t have that. Not even when sparks jolted me every time he touched me, like they had from that first day, shocking my heart into a new rhythm: Ben-Ben, Ben-Ben. I rubbed my other hand over my chest.

“It’s okay. Do you want dessert, or would you rather go to bed?”

I knew he didn’t mean with him, but my heart wasn’t nearly as smart. It thudded, and Ben probably saw it through my spandex shirt. “Bed.”

“Okay.” He stroked my arm one more time, and when he stopped, my arm felt cold. “I’ll clean up out here. See you in the morning.”

“Okay,” I murmured, still under his spell.

It wasn’t until I’d stepped inside that I realized he’d set me up. What the fuck were we going to do in the morning?

Even though I’d taken a nap, my feet dragged. I needed more sleep. The last thing I heard him say before I shut my bedroom door was, “Coco, how about some tasty fish?”

---