Wild Open Hearts: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy by Kathryn Nolan

Author:Kathryn Nolan [Nolan, Kathryn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: That's What She Said Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2019-10-24T16:00:00+00:00

33

Beck

Luna hadn’t been at Lucky Dog for an entire week.

According to my staff, I was in a bad mood.

Which wasn’t true—I just wanted to slam doors and prowl around and scowl at every question because I liked it that way. But I guess we’d all gotten used to a weekly infusion of Luna’s cheery light and without it I felt stuck in grumpy darkness.

Her influence wasn’t entirely absent though. Right now, Elián and I were sitting on the stairs outside the office, sharing a six-pack of beer, and watching Luna’s website update with more and more donations for Lucky Dog. We were approaching $100,000 in total donations over two weeks, which was one-third of our budget gap, the one we needed to close by the end of this month.

It also meant that my staff could be paid next week. I didn’t think that was going to happen before Luna decided I was stuck with her.

“Can you show me what she’s been posting?” I asked Elián. Luna had texted that she’d been secretly taking more than four photos every time she visited. She had plenty to upload and share from the comfort of her office. Elián showed me her Instagram page. It was filled with attractive pictures of our campus. I scanned the same horizon—saw our dusty field, the shabby equipment, everything looking old and cheap.

Luna’s pictures were colorful and hopeful. We looked like a happy place for happy dogs that needed a little bit of extra help. There were portraits of every single dog we had with funny captions. Silly photos of Wes and Jem, training sessions with Elián.

“She’s good, man,” Elián said.

“Is that a lie?” I asked. “What she posted?”

“I don’t think it is,” he said. “I think she really loves it here. You can tell how she talks about it. Donors want to give to her because she’s authentic. She’s not trying to guilt them into giving. I think she’s trying to inspire them.”

I ran a hand through my hair, pondering that. “She is good,” I admitted. “I feel bad that my family is fucking things up for her this week.”

“Media that bad, huh?” he asked, squinting at the setting sun.

I shouldn’t have brought it up—I had to clamp down on my anger to keep it from boiling over. After that paparazzi shot, the Devils were back in the public eye, though mostly it was re-posting the same mug shots or sharing bizarre theories. About ten years ago, I’d kicked around the idea of sealing or expunging my juvenile record—a real clean slate. But I hadn’t gone through with it, mostly because I wanted to avoid even talking about it at all costs.

Now I wished I had.

“Bad. It’s all fake. They’re trying to drag her down. Dragging up old stories about me that I’d forgotten about. Or aren’t real.”

“Have your parents reached out to you?” Elián asked.

I huffed into my beer. “No,” I said. “I’m only useful to Rip and Georgie if I come back begging. They’ll stay away until that happens.

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