Wild Open Hearts (Bluewater Billionaires) - Kathryn Nolan Page 0,63

early success to the buzz she built about my makeup and my company and the way we were doing things differently.

Today Claudia Bardot had disowned me. Publicly.

I understood her hurt at my perceived betrayal, understood the pain of realizing a brand you’ve loved is cruel to animals. But I thought… I hoped… she’d talk to me to learn the real story.

I hoped she was the kind of friend who could see me for who I really was.

Instead, she’d issued a comment today severing any ties to Wild Heart and to me. Her words had been short, but brutal: It’s heart-wrenching when you discover that a woman you idolize has been lying to you for years, building her brand of social justice based on hypocrisy. At this point, I’m not even sure Luna da Rosa is an actual vegan. She is, however, an expert actress.

“What do you fucking want?” the woman behind the counter barked at me.

“Bacon cheeseburger and fries, please,” I said in a small voice. I’d contemplated a disguise but then—who cared? If the world believed I was fake, I might as well embrace it.

Except as I sat on the rickety table beneath an equally-rickety umbrella, I felt only an unsettled nausea and tears as I stared at the greasy burger.

I’d hit multiple lows over the past three weeks—Ferris Mark. Learning I was at fault. The online hate. The protesters calling me a murderer. Losing the contract. Losing Claudia.

This cheeseburger, however?

Was the lowest.

None of this felt okay though. None of this felt right. Which I found odd, since at this point, I was ready to throw in the towel and admit defeat. Your detractors will be many, Sylvia had said.

I wasn’t sure I had the strength left to push back against them.

Which was why I was going to give in to them.

As soon as I stopped dry heaving.

“Luna?”

A giant nonprofit hunk was stalking my way with a look of utter disbelief on his handsome, bearded face.

“What the fuck” I hissed to myself, hiding under the table since that was the only idea I had at the time. Until Beck’s shaggy head dropped down to pin a gaze on me that said gotcha.

“Evening,” he said. He dropped to his knees. I squinted up at him like I hadn’t been sure it was him.

“Beck?” I asked, like we were bumping into each other at the farmer’s market. “Oh my god. Hey.”

He passed a hand over his mouth, hiding a smirk. “What are you doing beneath the table at a burger joint?”

“Market research,” I said weakly.

“On the ground?”

“Being a CEO is about vision, Beck,” I said. “Opportunity exists in every grain of sand and straw wrapper.”

“I wouldn’t know,” he mused. “I’m just here to enjoy a juicy burger like the rest of us meat-eating evildoers.”

At the mention of the words juicy burger, my stomach twisted violently. I slapped a hand over my mouth. His smirk grew into a look of concern, narrowed eyes searching mine.

“Me too,” I said weakly.

A beat passed. Beck was too kind, too perceptive to bear witness to my personal nadir.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

“Under the table?”

“If I fit,” he said, shrugging his gigantic shoulders.

“You’re definitely too big,” I said. And immediately my brain flashed a memory of Beck’s cock outlined through his jeans while his fingers worked a heavenly magic on my scalp.

“Is that so?” His lips quirked.

“I mean, some would say.”

“Luna,” he said, chuckling now.

“I’m very busy under here,” I said airily. “This could even be an interesting corporate retreat if you think about it. A cozy way to incubate new and invigorating ideas.”

“I’m going to get a burger,” he said. “And I’m buying us more beer. I’m fine talking to you like this but it might be easier if you sat in a chair.”

“We keep ending up at these impasses, Mr. Mason,” I said, laughing a little. Then smacking my damn forehead on the table.

“Ouch—shit,” I said. I untangled myself from the ground gingerly, Beck’s strong hand lifting me. He swiped his thumb across my forehead with more tenderness than I could handle.

“Lying about eating a burger and saying the word shit,” he mused. “Sounds like you could use a friend.”

Beck turned around before I could answer, so I was left with his magnificent ass in those jeans, his helmet beneath his arm, and the sly grin he flashed me when he caught me staring. If Beck Mason was in a grinnin’ mood I wasn’t going to make it through this night with my