Wild Open Hearts (Bluewater Billionaires) - Kathryn Nolan Page 0,36
took the glass from Luna. It was grass-green.
“Are we at… what did you call it, another impasse?” I asked, lightening my tone.
“I think so.” Her lips quirked up.
“What the hell is in this?” I asked.
Luna let out a relieved exhale, sensing my shift in conversation. “Wheatgrass. Lemon. Cucumbers.”
I pre-wrinkled my nose. Sipped it. Enjoyed her playful smirk a little too much.
“Tastes like what comes out the back of a lawnmower.”
“And Heineken tastes like warm piss.”
“That’s blasphemy and you know it.” Then I took another sip.
“You like it,” she teased.
“Two sips don’t mean a thing,” I shot back. But I was suddenly drinking it—whether it was because it tasted all right, or because it kept her smiling, I didn’t want to know. “When did you get into all this hippie stuff?”
I handed the glass back to Luna, who placed her pink lips right where mine had been. She sipped, thought for a moment. “Veganism? My parents were always vegetarian, very eco-conscious and into animal rights. When I was eleven, a neighbor told me how eggs and dairy-products were derived from animals and I plopped down on our kitchen floor and cried very dramatically.”
Her eyes slid toward mine like she was expecting me to make fun of her. But I didn’t want to. I could relate. “There’s nothing wrong with caring about things like that.”
Luna tilted her head, sending her silver earrings shimmering. “That’s true. It’s always how I’ve been.”
“When you were a kid, did you ever get made fun of for being vegan?”
She shrugged. “People make fun of you whenever you take a stand against anything. It wasn’t always easy but not being vegan never felt like an option. This, what’s happening right now, is exponentially worse. Being caught in a mistake that corrupts your most deeply-held values.” She turned her computer screen around. The article looked like it was about her… and it looked mean. “A mistake and a pattern of thinking,” she added.
My nostrils flared. I felt protective of the rainbow billionaire again.
Although, if I hadn’t known her… wouldn’t Elián and I be at the office talking shit about lying rich people right now?
“There isn’t a silver lining here,” I finally said. “Fucking sucks.”
She grasped my arm, squeezed. Heat and sensation shot up my arm. “Thank you for not telling me this is all part of life’s beautiful journey.”
“Not really the type of guy who talks about journeys, Luna.”
“I think I like that about you, Mr. Mason,” she replied.
“Do you think I’m disgusting because I eat meat?
“I doubt anyone finds you disgusting, Beck.”
“Well, you’re not children or the elderly.”
She smiled, running a hand through her hair. “Back in the day… yes. I would have said intense things about you. I care about this; I really think it’s better for the world—for people and for animals—if we could find other ways to live.”
“And now?”
She bit her lip. “I do wish you were a vegan.”
I shifted in my chair, uncomfortable—I’d expected her to say no way in that sunshine-y, sweet way of hers.
“I believe our planet lives in greater harmony when we don’t consume meat, even though I know how unrealistic that is, as many, many people like to point out to me. Meat impacts human rights, the environment, our health, and destroys our ecosystem. I don’t want to be a part of that. I want to live in a world where all beings, human and animal, have more than enough to eat, shelter, love, work, safety and freedom from pain.”
“I won’t ever be a vegan, Luna,” I said—clearly. “But I agree with you on the freedom from pain bit for animals. And for people. The only way I can get out of bed every morning is knowing that the abused animals I work with are getting better. No longer in pain. If not…”
“It’s too dark,” she added.
I flexed my fingers. “Yes.”
She reached forward, her eyes kind. Touched my leather vest and said, “This causes pain, too.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. “You’re right,” I finally admitted. She was right, really.
I took in Luna’s office—for all of its colorful bohemian-ness, there was wealth in every item.
“How do you feel about a person who has a lot of money that’s spent on things and not charity?” I might have asked it to be shitty, if this was our first meeting. But now I was just curious. Waiting for her response, not trying to piss her off.
But I’d touched a nerve.
She tensed, angry. “I’m assuming you’re talking about me?”