Wild Open Hearts (Bluewater Billionaires) - Kathryn Nolan Page 0,38

the body language in front of me was as cool as ice. “What do you want to know?”

Their suits and their facial expressions didn’t technically mean jack shit. But my brain shouted they’re smarter than you, drowning out my ability to think clearly.

“Perhaps a tour?” an older black woman with white hair asked.

“Yeah, uh, this way.” I’d done a bit of this, but not for a while. I’d always had time to prep—to practice my speech and make sure Lucky Dog appeared to be in working order. But our field was a wreck and all the dogs were barking, and Jem was leading Beatrix through a training session that wasn’t going well. The group stared at Wes, Jimmy and Jem—who were all tattooed and spiked and mohawked.

“Wes and Jem are two of my staff members—trained behavioral specialists—and Jimmy is a potential adopter.” Wes and Jem were cheery as they shook hands, while Jimmy stood off to the side. The Carlisle people asked questions about the dogs, about Beatrix—Wes and Jem both did great answering them. But they really were specialists, like I’d said. I was just some guy.

“And, Beck, tell us more about your strategic vision for Lucky Dog,” the first man asked. “What’s your long-term plan for this place?”

“Build more kennels and rescue more dogs,” I said. “Miami has become a dumping ground for dogs people don’t want and strays are out of control. But they don’t have to be euthanized. Rehabilitation is the answer. Also—” I stopped, thought about what I’d witnessed. “What we do is also match. Dog to human. Dog to family. The love that grows between the two is powerful, I think.”

Behind them, Wes was giving me two thumbs up.

“But how?” the man asked. “We like to see nonprofits have a longstanding vision. It takes a lot to stay afloat in this financially risky environment. I’m sure you understand, Mr. Mason.”

There was a condescending edge when he said the word Mason.

“Yeah, I get what you’re saying,” I said. “The how is build more kennels. Save more dogs. Partner up with some inmate programs potentially.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “That’s about it.”

The woman was writing something on a legal pad, which pissed me off. Because I hadn’t even known they were coming, so it felt fucked up that I was now being graded.

“How is Lucky Dog invested?” the man asked. “Mutual funds? Bonds? CDs?”

I didn’t have a clue. Our board was small—only three members, and Elián and I were working to grow it. But we didn’t have investments. Yet.

A flash of color caught my eye—Luna, here for her three o’clock shift.

“I, uh, I don’t know.”

“The executive director doesn’t know what his company’s investment portfolio looks like?” the man asked.

“I’m not sure we have one,” I said. I didn’t know what a mutual fund was and I wasn’t going to let this asshole in on that juicy tidbit. “I guess, in my mind, the most important focus is right now. Like what we’re going to do for these dogs in the moment. It’s a crisis and we’re trying to help as many dogs as we can.” Half of the group was staring off, looking down, like they were embarrassed for me. And now I was embarrassed. I cleared my throat. “But I guess I could get that information for you from my board.”

“It’s more impressive when the executive director knows it offhand,” the man said.

“And it’s nice when foundations let nonprofits know when they’re coming,” said a voice that I recognized.

I whirled around. Luna, in colorful yoga pants. She propped her hands on her hips. “Albert, when you spoke to my staff earlier today, you mentioned coming to Lucky Dog next week. Not on a surprise visit.” She seemed as cheerful as ever, but her back was straight and her tone was icier than normal.

Albert flared his nostrils at her. “We thought a surprise would be more fun.”

“Or disrespectful of Mr. Mason’s time,” Luna shot back. I couldn’t stop the surprised look that came over my face. But Luna wasn’t looking at me. She was staring at Albert. “If you have questions he can’t answer, it’s probably because he was busy saving a dog’s life twenty minutes before you got here.”

I’d actually been trying to figure out a financial report that contained far too little money for my liking. Luna’s donations couldn’t come fast enough—rent was due. And payroll. And health insurance.

“Since you are sponsoring this nonprofit, do you have anything to say about