Wild Open Hearts (Bluewater Billionaires) - Kathryn Nolan Page 0,110

replied, still amazed that the people in Luna’s world had access to money like this. “We’ll be…” I swallowed hard. “We’ll be set for a couple years with these. If we’re careful.”

“Right? Also this.” Wes slapped a large white envelope down. It was a packet from the Wild Heart Foundation. Inside was a short letter.

From Luna.

The sight of her happy handwriting felt like a sucker punch. I sniffed. It was probably my imagination, but I thought I smelled oranges.

To the staff of Lucky Dog, thank you for allowing me to spend time with you. Your organization is truly a place of magic and miracles and I feel incredibly fortunate to have known all of you.

“Have known” felt like two sucker punches.

When we first met I also guaranteed a large financial gift to Lucky Dog on top of volunteering my time. I’ve attached a funding agreement—the first from the Wild Heart Foundation. It would be a privilege to award Lucky Dog with our first grant early next year. The award would be $1 million over four years. I know how strategically you’ve been focusing on securing your financial future. I hope this gift allows you the flexibility to pay your bills while achieving your wildest dreams. All the best, Luna da Rosa.

“This is like a fuck-ton of money, boss.” Wes whooped, clapped his hands. “Can you believe it?”

“No,” I said, voice rough. “I almost can’t believe it.” I thought of Willow—the way she’d stared at me the first day we met, like she knew I’d rescued her. The first night she’d spent with me in the jail cell, she had been terrified of the clanging doors. A sharp sound that made her shake. I had stayed awake all night, petting her, making her feel safe. I know it sounded cheesy as hell but that night literally was the first day of the rest of my life.

And now? We wouldn’t have to turn away dogs just like her. We’d continue to rehabilitate. Save. The matches between dog and person that had the power to change lives.

Luna had done it. It was more than I ever could have hoped for. Almost two million dollars had landed on my desk today because of the woman I still felt devoted to. She was following through on her promises—her actions matched her words.

“Jem! Elián!” Wes was yelling for them from the door. My heart was hammering—thumb stroking across Luna’s handwriting. Jem and Elián burst through the door, faces surprised.

“Did someone die?” Elián asked. “Why are we all yelling?”

“Because we just received almost two million in the fucking mail,” I said, smile breaking across my face. A real one.

Elián came over while Jem squealed and leapt into Wes’s arms. He kissed her cheek as she giggled, spinning her around.

Elián gave me a half-hug, laughing and holding up the checks like he couldn’t believe they were real. “Told ya working with Luna was a smart move.”

“You were right,” I admitted.

Luna was trusting me to spend this money well. Even with our breakup, she was showing me that she cared. That she trusted me.

Daisy was right. I was a dumb ass.

60

Beck

Beatrix was finally going home.

Wes, Jem, Elián and I all came out for this adoption interview because, according to Wes, “the lady who wants Beatrix is fucking dope.”

I needed a happy story right now. It was a few days after Justine’s visit and the big donations from Luna’s foundation and her best friends.

I literally ached with missing her.

The only thing I could focus on—really, the smart thing to focus on—was Lucky Dog.

Jem had Beatrix on the leash. Beatrix’s big head came up to her waist. She wasn’t the snarling, terrified beast she’d been when we’d brought her in more than two months ago. But I was still wary. If Beatrix didn’t like you, she didn’t like you.

And I doubted she’d like the woman standing in front of us.

“Victoria Whitney,” she said, holding out her hand like the Queen. I didn’t know if she wanted me to kiss it or shake it or what. We all just stared at it until she placed it back on her expensive-looking handbag. Victoria was a white woman in her sixties, white hair, giant diamonds in her ears. She held a black umbrella to shield her from the sun, and her nose was tilted high.

“Beck Mason,” I said. “This is my staff. I’m sorry, but did you say you’re here for Beatrix?”

A curl of her lips. “Yes, well, I’ve flown all the way from