Wild Open Hearts (Bluewater Billionaires) - Kathryn Nolan Page 0,30
get back here later this week.”
My eyes searched her beautiful dark ones. The sincerity and compassion there seemed real.
“Sure,” I said.
“Try not to terrify too many elderly people while I’m gone, Mr. Mason.”
I watched Luna get in that car and be driven away.
Jem came up behind me, waving at the car with a look of total love.
“Can we keep her?” she asked.
“Maybe,” I grumbled.
18
Beck
Three days later, Elián yanked open the trailer door with a big grin on his face.
“Have you checked Luna’s donation page yet?” he asked. “The one for Lucky Dog?”
Before I could answer, he pulled up a website on my computer. $15,652 scrolled across the screen.
“That’s how much she’s raised for us so far and it’s only been up four days.”
“Holy shit,” I said, leaning forward. “And she’s only worked here one day.”
“She’s convincing,” he said. “She’d make a real good executive director, to tell you the truth.”
He hadn’t meant it as a slight toward me. But I still felt it. Luna had done in one day what I struggled to pull off these past four years.
“We could get a lot of money from this,” I admitted. Elián clapped my shoulder.
“That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time. And the timing couldn’t be more urgent, with the deadline and all.”
I nodded, chastised. We had less than twenty days to fill the funding gap left by losing that multi-year foundation grant. Christina, the board president, had called me yesterday. She was pleased with all of the new cash.
But it needs to keep coming in, Beck, she’d warned me. This can’t be a one-time thing.
Meaning I needed to start doing my damn job.
A text came through on my phone. It was Luna.
Can you come by my office today? I have a surprise for you.
“Great news, I’m assuming?”
I shrugged. Typed back, Okay.
Luna sent me a string of animated hearts and fireworks. I showed it to Elián. “She’s… very excitable.”
“I can see that.” He gave me an unreadable look before checking his watch. “Also, shit, Jimmy is here for his adoption interview. Wes’s friend?”
“I’ll do it,” I said. Elián stared at the stack of grant applications on my desk. “I’ll do those after,” I said. “Bring him here. We’ll do it together, like old times.”
He sighed but left to get Jimmy. In the early days, when we didn’t even have enough money to pay ourselves, Elián and I did everything at Lucky Dog together—intake, training, interviews, administration, fundraising. It’d been stressful and overwhelming, but we were best friends and we loved the dogs. We kept each other motivated. And that was enough.
Elián got to stay in that role. And now that I was in charge, I missed those days.
I met Elián and Jimmy outside. We liked to interview candidates while visiting the dogs. It gave us a chance to see how people interacted with the animals—if a connection existed. People went into the adoption process with an idea of what kind of dog was right for them.
They were usually wrong.
“Jimmy?” I asked. He was a white man almost as tall as I was, which was saying a lot. Tattoos covered his neck and bald head. He wore all leather and smelled like bike grease.
And when I shook his hand, I saw a tattoo—the skull of a screaming devil.
“Yeah, nice to meet you man,” Jimmy said smoothly. He looked closer to Wes’s age, no more than twenty-five. There was nothing aggressive about his posture or body language.
But I was wary.
“I’m Beck. Beck Mason,” I said, and watched the recognition bloom on his face.
He was a Devil. Had to be.
“Thought that was you,” Jimmy said. “Wes told me his boss used to ride with the Devils a long time ago, right?
“Twenty years ago,” I clarified. “You?” If he was an active member of the club, there was no way I was letting a dog leave with him.
Jimmy looked around briefly, then stepped closer. My hands curled into fists at my side.
“I left two years ago,” he said. “Same reason as you did. Or at least what I heard.”
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Yeah. It’s bad. Rip and Georgie aren’t doing too well.”
“Spending four decades as criminals can run you down,” I said. I felt no sympathy for them.
Jimmy pointed at his tattoo. “I’m getting it removed. I don’t want you to think I’m… you know, still involved.
“Okay,” I said. “We do background checks for everyone, obviously, but as long as nothing comes back, I trust you.”