Wild Open Hearts (Bluewater Billionaires) - Kathryn Nolan Page 0,33
our revenue for the fiscal year.”
The information slammed into me like a sudden storm front. I looked out the window, immediately seeking refuge in the cloudless teal sky. Except the sky was actually falling now. And it wasn’t dramatics.
No.
Everything I had worked so hard to build was tumbling down around me.
20
Beck
Luna’s offices looked like a jungle. Ocean views, green plants. Everyone working there seemed trendy and young and smarter than I’d ever be. I looked down at my black tee-shirt and dirt-covered jeans, touched my beard. Did my entire look scream outsider? Or criminal?
Once, when I was sixteen, a counselor gave me a pamphlet from the local community college. I’d left it around the clubhouse. Hoped my parents might see it.
My mother did. The last thing you need is more school, she’d said, stubbing her cigarette out on the bar top. Besides, you really think they’d let you in?
Wild Heart felt like what I’d imagined that school would be like—the colors, the sense of purpose, the chatty conversations. It made me want to turn to the first person who passed me and ask Are you sure you want to let me in?
One long wall had glass containers of that drink Luna had given me the other day—kombucha. Sections of the office were covered with floor pillows and yoga mats.
“Smoothie? Latte? Green tea?” The receptionist asked me as she took me to the very back.
“Uh, no,” I said. I made a mental note to ask Wes if we needed to start serving beverages to our visitors. Wasn’t that the kind of thing real executive directors did?
We passed a poster of Luna wearing a crown of roses, applying lipstick with a cheeky grin. Beauty on the inside. Beauty on the outside, read the tagline. At Wild Heart, we’re committed to one thing: our values. That means our dedication to makeup that’s smart for the planet and never cruel to animals.
And even though I was pretty damn sure I wasn’t their target audience, there was something I liked about it all. I finally understood the public’s anger. Wild Heart—from its marketing to this very office—touted all about honesty.
Luna’s office door was open. I looked in. She stood at the foot of a long glass table, slightly bent over as she marked pieces of paper with a red pencil.
“This one with the orange. Teal for this one. No lavender. Does that work?” She was backlit by the ocean view, hands propped on her hips. When she looked up at me, her expression brightened even further.
“You’re here,” she said.
“Take your time,” I said. “I’ll wait.”
Luna bit her bottom lip, made a few more notes for her staff. I studied body language—an old habit, constantly needing to read the room at the MC, the tension in the group, the threat-level in a jail cell. Luna’s body was open and accepting. Her staff as well. No wonder the suggestion that her life was a series of Instagram posts was hurtful.
She was a leader.
“Come on in,” she finally said. Staff members slid by me and I was aware again of their age, of mine, that I smelled like leather and asphalt while this entire building smelled like the ocean. I couldn’t have been more than eight or nine years older than Luna, but I felt our age difference in that moment.
“Welcome to the Wild Heart headquarters. I know you’re familiar with the outside, but this is where all the magic happens,” she said.
I sat in a green chair I worried would break beneath my weight. “I like it.”
“You do?” Luna came around the desk and sat on the edge, right in front of me. When she crossed her legs, the cotton of her long white dress brushed my jean-clad knees. “I designed it myself with one of my best friends, Daisy. She’s in real estate, has all the best design connections. For the first five years, we operated out of a one-room office. This was a major upgrade.”
“Looks expensive,” I added, nodding toward the view.
“It’s… very expensive,” she agreed. She looked distracted for a moment, then refocused. “I’m really happy you’re here, Beck. Also, I’ve been nervous for you to see everything.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I wanted you to like it.” Her fingers tugged a tiny braid into existence.
A smile crept up and I didn’t hide it. “Well, I do. It fits you. Is that you?” I asked, pointing to a photo of a very young-looking Luna holding a check. “Your first million or whatever?”