Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
Money doesn’t just allocate itself to the world’s million good intentions.
Someone still has to read emails and reduce charities, people, and dreams into figures that fit neatly in a spreadsheet.
That’s what nonprofit work is. I get that.
But there’s something disheartening about it just the same, being the person pushing the buttons and preparing the big decisions made by the higher-ups.
I rub the back of my neck and tilt my head to the sky. “Thanks anyway.”
“No, thank you, Dess. What you’re doing is awesome,” he says, leaning closer.
His floppy hair falls into his eyes.
Bleh.
I guess he’s cute, in a younger dad bod way, but looking at him after Shepherd Foster is like comparing a pug to a Doberman.
The worst part is, I keep scanning my phone, hoping for a text.
But after a single quick message to say he’ll meet me tonight to see Meghan, there’s been nothing.
Fine, whatever.
He’s been so caught up with meetings and work and life.
Definitely too busy for a life with me and the trouble that brings.
I genuinely don’t blame him.
So here I am with Mark, finishing my sandwich and hoping this doesn’t get too awkward.
“Any chance you’d consider staying on after you’re done with Young Influencers? You could do a lot of good for Home Shepherd,” he says. “Like full-time, I mean. I’m sure you’d snag a position, easy. Though if you’re like me, you won’t get paid all that much.” He laughs, though he doesn’t sound like he finds it funny.
Weird.
Is he still hitting on me now that I’m basically the office slut?
When we’re alone, sometimes it feels like it, but he’s always careful to maintain this personal distance. I’ve also seen him being this awkward with other people, too, so I guess it’s just his nature.
Just his way of gladhanding and sucking up.
Mr. Nice Guy until he’s not.
I’ve known the type, and I wonder what kind of teeth might come up if you rubbed Marky Mark the wrong way.
But staying diplomatic with people like him is just part of the corporate world, and that means it’s part of the nonprofit world, too.
It’s not what you know but who, after all, that determines success when there’s big money at stake.
“You never know,” I say noncommittally. It’s more polite than hell no. “Well, lunch is almost done. Should we head back in and tackle that big cat sanctuary inquiry? You know, the one from Dallas, North Dakota?”
I legit wonder why there’s apparently a very good large cat sanctuary in small-town North Dakota.
I also wonder who names their small town next to Canada 'Dallas.'
We settle back in, making small talk about their proposal as we go through it.
I spend the next few hours watching the clock until finally it’s time to leave.
Before Mark can ask what I’m doing tonight and I need a new excuse to blow him off for drinks, I grab my coat and haul butt out of the building.
Shepherd texts me just as I’m leaving. Meet me out front in the car.
It’s not another date.
No more steamy, emotionally-charged sex that shouldn’t be happening.
Just a date with destiny, and the tougher challenge of talking Meghan Tea down.
My stomach knots as I step outside, raincoat slung over my arm in the afternoon sunlight.
Ready or not, I’m going to see him again. For the first time since we literally slept together and I slipped out the next morning.
No, that’s not quite accurate.
Since Molly and I slept in his arms. In his bed. After the best naughty nibble ever.
Huge distinction.
Somehow, having Mol there for the afterglow makes it more heart-wrenching.
A company car, black and sleek, stops at the curb.
Shepherd opens the back door for me.
I push inside and fasten my seatbelt as the driver pulls away and Shepherd punches the privacy visor up.
“Here. Before we get into the Meghan crap,” he says, handing me his tablet before I have time to figure out how I should be behaving around him now.
At first, I’m not sure what I’m seeing.
There’s a flashing red dot in the middle of the screen. He zooms out to reveal the San Juan Islands just north of Seattle and Anacortes.
“Whales?” I let out an undignified squeak.
“Not just your humpbacks or orcas. There’s a pod of sei whales up there. A small EPA research ship confirmed a few fishermen’s sightings today,” he explains. “If you’d like, we could take my yacht out to observe them.”
Oh, God.
Does he know he’s blowing up my heart?
I’m gaping at him, mouth open, utterly gobsmacked.
He must have remembered that time I told him how much I wanted to see sei whales.
I have to find some words.
But that’s kind of normal when he wants to see me, I guess, especially outside of work again.
Shepherd wants to spend time with me.
And what he’s proposing definitely isn’t another secretive little hookup disguised as something else.
Damn this man.