Hot to the Touch

Sophie

My boobs are so itchy, I think I might die. The fabric in my dress doesn’t have enough give for me to sneak a graze along the edge of the table or scratch with my clutch. I’m just stuck here, listening to endless speeches, picturing the raging allergic reaction my skin is having to this stupid “bra”. Again, no man would ever complain about a suit if they had to deal with this malfunction for the ages.

Chad is finishing my meal—because I’m not a fan of rare prime rib—and informing me about the benefits of calorie tracking. He’s convincing enough, I consider downloading an app so I can track my coffee and pastry consumption, but I’m distracted by a familiar name mentioned through the speakers.

“Boyd Edwards.” Mr. Benton is clapping and smiling as Boyd makes his way out onto the stage. “This young man was my pleasure to instruct over the past few years. Now, it is my honour to present him with the Medal for Academic Excellence in our Masters of Business Administration/Juris Doctor double major program.”

Everyone claps, some standing to show their support. I remain in my seat, frozen, trying to close my mouth. He’s… a barista.

Except he’s not. He is, but evidently that’s not all of what makes up Boyd Edwards. Boyd Edwards, MBA/JD, to be more specific.

Boyd doesn’t speak. He just stands beside Mr. Benton, who rambles on about how Boyd is “one to watch” and sells him as the greatest legal-minded business student he’s seen in the last twenty years. Apparently Boyd will be ripe for the picking after his call to the bar.

I look at my father, who is practically drooling over the prospect.

Once Mr. Benton completes his speech, everyone applauds as they exit the stage. Seconds later, the servers bring out dessert. Here I thought Boyd was here to bring main courses and appetizers to the mass of people filling the tables, but joke’s on me. He’s here to be the star of the show. With a beautiful woman on his arm.

Around a bite of crème brûlée, my father points out, “You were speaking to him earlier.”

Of course he was watching my every move.

“For about twelve seconds. I don’t know him.”

“I suggest you get to know him. We need someone like him. Make it happen.”

My jaw tenses with a spoon in my mouth, sending a shooting pain through my teeth. My position at McNamara Enterprises already feels fragile. I’m doing the work, and doing it well, but people on the outside looking in assume I have the job because of my last name. No way am I going to let some random guy show up and risk my future just because he’s part of the boys’ club.

“Sophie, this is non-negotiable. I expect him to be in my office by the end of the week. After tonight, everyone will be gunning for him.”

I want to scream at my father, ‘So let him go work somewhere else. You already have someone to ensure the success of your company.’ But I’m too afraid of burning a dilapidated bridge. One that splinters a bit more each day. “Fine.”

“And get rid of your date. He’s an embarrassment.”

I’m not Chad’s biggest fan, but he doesn’t deserve that. He’s still a person, and he came here as a favour. I apologize to him quietly, but he shrugs it off—my father’s crass comment falling right off Chad’s broad shoulders. He didn’t touch his dessert on account of his strict competition diet, which apparently only leaves room for near-raw red meat, so he slides his chair out without a word to either of my parents. Not that my mom was any more receptive toward him than my father was. He waves at Zach and Zara across the table, tosses his napkin on his plate, and turns to leave.

“Let me walk you out, at least.” I stand to follow Chad outside, texting Elton as I walk. We step outside and I apologize again for my father.

“Don’t sweat it. I’m used to people like him. Guys with money who think the rest of the world is beneath them. I’m sure once I become a cop, he’ll beg to use his money to get out of a speeding ticket.”

“A cop?”

He raises his light blond eyebrows in an expression that says ‘duh’ without a sound. “That’s why I’m working security. And why I work out so much. I’ve got a physical to pass.”

I’m so stupid. Elton was right. It was wrong of me to judge Chad based on his appearance. After seeing Boyd on stage and hearing the accolades he’s accumulated, it seems this is a bad habit of mine.

Speaking of Elton, he pulls up the Town Car in front of Chad and me, getting out to open the back door.

“I really am sorry, Chad. Thank you for showing up for me tonight.”

He nods and disappears into the back of the car. Elton assures me he’ll return once he drops Chad back at home and will wait for me as long as I need. Hopefully, it won’t be too late. I miss my dog.

Instead of rushing back inside, I take a moment to chastise myself for being no better than my father. His judgemental superiority complex has always infuriated me, and Chad just made it clear that I’ve been guilty of the same thing. I breathe in the air blowing off of the lake and allow the breeze to whisper over my clammy skin. Now I just need some relief from my bra situation. I scan my surroundings and deem it safe to shift the fabric of my dress and reach my hand inside to scratch some intimate places.

“Did your boyfriend leave?”

I freeze, much like I did when Boyd was introduced on stage. This time, he’s standing behind me and I have my hand inside my tight gown, cupping my boob. Awkward.

I consider my options, and they’re no more appealing than they were when I blurted a lie because I made an assumption about his job. I slip my hand out and turn to face him, hopeful he couldn’t see what I was doing. “Yeah, he had to work. He’s… a cop.” What am I doing to myself? Digging a bigger hole, evidently. “Where’s your date?”

“Oh, a pretty cop. That’s cool.” He doesn’t acknowledge my question about the woman he’s here with.

I’m starting to discover that Boyd has a very dry, sarcastic sense of humour. I’d find it endearing if I wasn’t so annoyed about my father’s demands. “Congratulations… on the medal. That’s a big deal.”

He shrugs off my compliment. “Thank you. Everyone else thinks it’s a bigger deal than it is.”

I want to hate him for being so blasé about an achievement I narrowly missed out on with a single major. But I can’t. I’m too impressed. “No, it is. Being top of your class in a double major is a huge accomplishment.”

He brushes off my praise again. “How long ago did you graduate?”

I don’t want to talk about myself. Nor my academic pursuits. If I’m going to appease my father, I need to make this about Boyd. “I didn’t know you were a student.”

“You never asked. Technically, I’m not anymore. I’m doing my LPP… Law Practice Program. Four months training; four months placement.” He scrubs his hand over his trimmed chin stubble. “Working at the café gives my brain a forced break. Making coffee and talking to customers kept me sane through school.”

Having been a student who ate, slept, and breathed the information being thrown at me, I can respect needing that break. “And now?”

“Now what? Staying sane?”

A smile threatens to appear, but I need to stay in business-Sophie mode. “No, what are your plans for work now? Surely you don’t want to work as a barista forever.”

His eyes narrow, and he takes a half step back. “I like my job.”

I close my eyes and exhale, resenting how much I’m sounding like my father. “Sure, but I doubt you worked toward your JD so you could serve coffee.”

His facial expression doesn’t relax at all.

As much as I don’t want Boyd coming into my family business, leapfrogging me in a position I’ve worked hard for, my father won’t take no for an answer. I’ve got to sell this and hope Boyd aspires to a different career path. “Point is, your skill set would be beneficial to McNamara Enterprises. If you’re interested, we’d love to have you come in this week and talk about career opportunities.”

He pauses for a beat before he replies, “It’s Wednesday.”

I stare at him, trying to figure out how that’s relevant. “And?”

“I’m working the next two days. Long days. Training and the coffee shop.”

At least he’s a loyal employee, committed to his job.

“Okay. Why don’t I come into the café? We can figure out a time that works.”

He steps toward me, narrowing the gap he created a moment ago. “You can tell me the truth, you know.”

“Wha—” I swallow hard and straighten my posture, just as my mother taught me. Shoulders back, chin out, stand tall. “I don’t know what you mean.”

With no readable expression on his face, he states, “You just want to have another one of my world-class flat whites.”

The flood of relief I feel is startling, prompting me to “Ha!” an obnoxious laugh. “I’ll hand it to you, there. Your coffee is fantastic. That’s why I keep coming back.” That’s another lie. Coffee was fantastic, but it had very little to do with my repeat business.

For the first time all evening, I look at Boyd—really look at him. His tux fits him perfectly, with the black sateen lapels flat against his chest and not a wrinkle to be seen. His white shirt is crisp, with a neatly executed bow tie. He could be on the cover of Forbes and not look out of place. There’s no sign of a hipster barista here tonight.

He interrupts my gawking by asking, “Who was the other guy at the café?”

My face twists of its own accord when I realize what he’s asking, combined with his inquiry earlier about my ‘new boyfriend’. Eww. “That was Caleb. My brother. Twin brother, actually.” It never occurred to me that any on-lookers would think Caleb was my—gag—boyfriend. Did Boyd seriously think I’m that self-absorbed, I’d date someone who looks just like me? I just wanted Caleb to taste the coffee.

Whatever Boyd thinks about that revelation, he doesn’t express it with facial cues or body language. He’s going to make an excellent lawyer.

“Everything okay out here?” Aunt Zara steps around a teardrop-shaped boxwood bush that adorns the country club entrance.

Just the excuse I need. “Good, yep.” I walk toward my aunt, looping my arm through hers. “I’ll see you tomorrow around 5:15,” I call over my shoulder, looking at the man who I’ll do anything to stop from taking the job I’ve earned. And deserve. But that doesn’t mean I want to stop seeing him.