Sunshine streaked past us toward the ocean.
“Oh, shit,” we both cried out, breaking into a sprint. Luna and I skated through a volleyball game and leapt over sunbathers arranged like dominoes.
“I see her,” Luna called over her shoulder, running faster. Her foot caught in the leash she was carrying and she flew face-first toward the sand.
My arm banded around her waist before she could hit it. I tugged a panting Luna back against me, and her full citrus scent almost knocked me over.
“Nice catch,” she gasped. “I’m usually more graceful.”
I gently let her go. “Don’t, uh, worry about it.”
Sunshine was racing like a greyhound toward the waves.
“Are these rescues usually filled with this many wacky hijinks?” Luna asked.
“Not really,” I replied. Sunshine looked seconds away from freaking out in the frothy waves. I didn’t know if she could swim and I felt fucking awful that we’d put her in this scared, survival-mode position. “Call Jem,” I said. “Have her meet us in the parking lot with the med kit and a crate.”
I reached behind my head to take off my shirt, but to my utter surprise, Luna was racing into the waves like a lifeguard. Sunshine tried to swim away awkwardly but Luna reached forward, wrapping her arms around her neck.
“Her mouth,” I called, completely fucking alarmed. “Luna, watch her—”
But Sunshine went willingly—or was at least extremely excited by the prospect of wet bacon in Luna’s hand. Her shaggy head rested on Luna’s shoulder as she stood in the waves and walked toward me, soaking wet and grinning.
“I got her!”
I exhaled raggedly. She was crazy. That had to be the reason why a woman with a net worth of a billion dollars had dived into the waves like this was a two o’clock board meeting. Sunshine was squirming now so I ran to Luna and took hold of the dog. I gave Sunshine another piece of bacon as I slipped the collar over her head.
We both collapsed onto the sand, sweating and exhausted.
“Thank god I’m wearing Wild Heart’s classic waterproof mascara in ebony,” Luna said in a fake commercial voice.
I chuckled, dropped my head to my knee. “You’re crazy, you know that? That was incredibly fucking dangerous.”
She shook her head. “I would have backed off if it seemed like she was going to bite me. But I couldn’t stop myself.”
“I know what you mean,” I finally admitted. Seconds earlier, I’d been prepared to do the same.
The dog was yanking the leash taut, clearly wary of us and terrified of the rope around her neck. I gave her another piece of bacon. “Let’s get you some food and safety and a family that loves you.”
Luna’s head whipped around at that. “I’m really glad we got her, Beck. Really, really glad.”
“Me too,” I said.
Her hand flew to her mouth. She looked shocked.
“What is it?” I asked, scanning her for hidden, ocean-related injuries.
“My phone. My phone is in my bag, back on the beach.”
“Thank god. It would have been toast in the water,” I said.
“But it means I didn’t film a thing.”
26
Luna
As I walked back down the beach with Beck, I felt wildly out of control, breath shallow, pulse thready. And it wasn’t our sprint and my sudden dash into the ocean.
I was anxious. Anxious because I’d had a golden opportunity to film myself performing an act of bravery and I hadn’t. There’d be no Instagram video, no Facebook pic. I could see Jasmine salivating at the idea of Luna da Rosa, current internet villain, redeeming herself by rescuing a stray dog from drowning.
Next to me, Sunshine was a shivering, scared thing—every time she inhaled, I could see the hard edges of her rib cage. Presented with the option, I would have chosen diving in after her every single time. There’d been no choice, merely action, and I hoped, sincerely, that most other people would have done the same thing.
But I was stumbling into an awkward crossroad. Rebuilding my reputation through Beck’s nonprofit hadn’t felt weird or ethically complicated before. Even though Beck had been worried we were using him, I knew in my heart we weren’t.
Yet now I was torn between this urge to show the public that I wasn’t the kind of person who would partner with a company like Ferris Mark. And an urge to keep what had happened on the beach private. Not to be manipulative or self-serving.
It was a bizarre flight-or-fight response. My role as Wild Heart spokeswoman had always been fun and silly, a way to merge my personal and professional selves into one brand.
But wasn’t I more than a brand?
I grabbed my bag on the beach and found my phone with anxious fingers. “Do you want me to take your picture with Sunshine?” Beck asked gruffly. His eyes were trained on the sand—which made me hyper-aware that my shirt was practically see-through and my nipples were hard.
“Sure.” I hesitated. “I won’t get too close, but donors should see what a dog looks like when you first meet them.”
Which was mournful, terrified, scared. The poor thing was trembling out of control, and as I sank to the sand and wrapped my arms around my knees, I didn’t feel right about this at all.
“Luna, you’re not smiling,” he said.
I plastered on a fake grin that faltered as soon as he gave me my phone back. I stared at the picture, which made me uneasy. Uploaded it to Instagram with the caption: Dogs like Sunshine need our help. We found this sweet baby on the beach, scared out of her mind. But at Lucky Dog, there’s a safe, healing place for her to rehabilitate and find her forever home. Hit the link in my bio to donate.
“What do you think of this?” I asked. He leaned over my shoulder, his body heat radiating like a furnace.
“Maybe people should see the whole process, like you said,” he replied.
I didn’t answer, merely stared at a picture that technically was soliciting donations but actually was positioning me as a hero to all dogs. Look at what I did is what it said.
Good for my reputation. Rebuilding. Earning their trust back. These words had been pounded into my head by Jasmine these past weeks until every single thing I did became an analysis in public approval.
Sunshine was truly cowering now.
“There’s Jem,” Beck said. “Let’s go meet her by the parking lot.”
“Is she…” I stopped, suddenly worried I was going to cry. “Beck, is Sunshine going to be okay?”
He studied me for a moment. “Yeah. I think she is. I know it’s hard, seeing them like this. It keeps me awake at night sometimes, Luna.”
“I can see why,” I said, voice tight.
He reached out and squeezed my shoulder—a truly comforting gesture I felt all the way to my toes. “We have to hope though. What else is there?”
“Is that our girl?”
Beck and I whirled around and I was never so happy to see Jem in my life. Her lime-green mohawk scraped the top of the Lucky Dog truck as she climbed out, smiling when she saw Sunshine.
“Luna grabbed her from the ocean,” Beck said.
“Right on,” Jem said, giving me a shy smile. “I knew you’d be a natural.”
“What happens now?” I asked. Beck was rummaging around in the back of the truck, and when he emerged, he held a giant white shirt toward me.
“I’ll crate her with lots of food and get her to our vet immediately to do a full medical work-up,” Jem said. “It’ll be scary for her for a while, but once she’s settled back at the campus, the rehabilitation will begin. And we’ll start her on a high-calorie diet.”
I watched as Beck, speaking in low tones, lifted Sunshine into the crate. She whipped around, snapped at him, but he dodged her teeth and deposited her gently. I crouched down, looked at her face, tried to think about hope.
“She’s a fighter,” Jem said. “Don’t worry.”
I knew then, standing on this beach with this terrified dog, that I’d d
o literally anything to help Lucky Dog: money, advocacy, time, contacts, resources. That tiny voice my parents had always taught me to trust was all but yodeling at me, directing my attention toward the animal I’d just held in my arms. This was why I was a vegan, why Wild Heart could change the world if I could manage to get it back on track.
“You can wear my shirt if you want,” Beck said, pulling me from my thoughts. “I didn’t want you to get cold or anything.”
“Oh, thanks,” I said, laughing a little. “This thing is basically the size of a tent.”
“I’m… big,” he said.
“I noticed.”
It might have been the high heat of the day, but his cheeks colored.
“Hey, Luna,” Jem said, “I tried that white bean and kale salad the other day. It was great.”
“Yay,” I cheered. “I’ll have my chef make an extra batch and bring it to you next week.”
“Feels like you work at Lucky Dog now,” she said.
I pursed my lips. “Things are pretty hard at Wild Heart. Part of me wishes I did work with you.”
Jem was trying to get Sunshine to sniff her hand, so she missed the pensive look Beck flashed my way.
“I’ll hit the road and text you updates.” Jem checked her watch. “You calling it quits, boss?”
“I should probably head back later tonight,” Beck said. “But you head home after dropping her off.”
Jem turned to me. “Luna, you want a ride? Or will your driver pick you up?”
I glanced at Beck, who was staring out at the ocean.
What I wanted?
Well.
I wanted to keep spending time with Beck.
“I’ll figure it out,” I said, waving her off. “Beck can always give me a ride home on his bike, right?”
Jem looked between Beck and me. Looked hard at me. Widened her eyes in a move I recognized as girl code for what’s going on between you two?
I gave her the old headshake. Nothing, I mouthed.
She widened her eyes again. Made a sound in the back of her throat.
Stop, I mouthed, starting to giggle.
“What is happening between you two?” Beck said gruffly.
She shook her head, grinning. “Aw, nothing boss. You two have fun.”
And then she drove off, leaving us alone. And maybe it was our sexy ride over here, and rescuing the dog, and the earnest way he’d told me to hope…
But looking at Beck Mason was giving me butterflies.
Huge, gigantic ones.
“Thanks again for the shirt,” I said, tearing off my tank top and bending over to wring out my sopping wet hair. I shook it out, and when I flipped back up, Beck looked away so fast I worried he’d break his neck.
“I grew up in a hippie neighborhood where my neighbors were pretty open about the human body,” I told him. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed by.”
“Not embarrassed,” he corrected. “Respectful.”
Except the look I’d caught in his eye—the raw, naked lust—had been anything but.
“Suit yourself.” I tossed the wet tank top onto his bike and dropped the tent-sized shirt over my head, knotting the ends around my waist. “If only I’d brought my back-up supply of flower crowns. How do I look, boss?”
“Beautiful,” he said hoarsely.
I bit my lip, smiling, desperate for this lightness after my dark hopelessness earlier. “Doing what we did today is good for the soul. I can feel it.”
“It shows,” Beck said. “You, um… you have the kind of face that’s easy to read.”
“Very true,” I agreed. “I’m an open book.”
He kicked at a stone in the sand, looking seconds away from calling it a night.
“Can I buy you a drink?” I asked.
“Me?” he said, startled.
“No, the other terrifying-looking biker,” I deadpanned.
His mouth tipped up on one side.
“I have a million hours of emails to tackle tonight and I think a drink would help. Just one. We can watch the sunset, my second favorite time of day.”
“What’s your first?”
“Sunrise. When the world paints herself pink and gold for us.”
He stared at me.
“Come on,” I said, “I’m not going to force-feed you kombucha.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m going to force-feed you kale.”
Beck chuckled—but it was a surprised sound. A delighted sound. I was delighted.
“There’s a dive bar I used to go to right over there, actually,” he said. “It’s like the last shitty thing still standing on this fancy block.”
I peered over, saw a low, dark building that looked moments away from being formally condemned. “Love it.”
“You sure about that?”
I lifted my chin, winked. Beck didn’t have to know that I now frequented clubs you had to be wait-listed to get into. Not that I waited anymore. I was a bottle-service-VIP girl now.
“Your old MC friends go there?” I asked, purely out of curiosity.
But Beck’s jaw tightened, jumping into protection mode. “I used to go there after I left. The Devils can’t be down at Lummus Park anymore without the cops getting involved. They go inland for their bars. At least, last I heard.”
“Well as long as I’m not going to be the reason why a bar fight breaks out… why not? First round’s on me, Mr. Mason.”
27
Beck
This was a bad idea.
I didn’t need to be going to a place that sold alcohol with the rainbow billionaire. Didn’t need to be in a place that forced you to speak close together. I was still distracted from watching Luna strip her shirt off—her full breasts swelling against that hot-pink sports bra, the delicious nip of her waist, those lean muscles. When she’d tossed her hair back, she looked like a mermaid. I wanted to press my tongue to her tan skin.
Yet she had been the one to suggest the drinks.
She’d clearly been upset by the state Sunshine was in. But beyond that, her mood had been classic Luna: teasing, funny, happy.
Teasing me. Flirting with me.
“Here we are,” I said, walking up to the piece-of-shit bar frequented by people who had a looser understanding of the word legal. I used to drink here back in the day, when I was processing my life before and my life after. Elián and I had spent plenty a night after a tough day at Lucky Dog here. Their busted sign read Dean’s but half the letters were scrubbed off.
Luna’s eyes widened. But then she straightened her spine and yanked open the door. The patrons glared, but it didn’t affect her. Her feet did stick to the floor and she winced, examining whatever had ended up on the bottom of her expensive-looking shoes.
“It’s decades of old gum and spilled beer,” I admitted. My hand rested on her lower back as I guided her to the bar, the light touch sending heat rolling through me. Every person in there stared at Luna—she wasn’t a regular and she sure as shit didn’t look like she belonged in a dive bar. Even wrapped in her hippie clothes, she screamed first class all the way.
She held up two fingers for the bartender—a surly man named Stu.
“I can get this,” I said, reaching for my wallet.
“Don’t you dare,” she protested. “Heineken, right? With a kombucha chaser?”
Stu walked over—furious, as usual, that someone was brave enough to ask him for a drink.
“What?” he barked at Luna. My hackles went up until I saw her shine that mega-watt smile his way.
“Hey there, I’m Luna.” She extended her hand, glittering with gold rings.
Stu looked at me.
Then he shook her hand. He didn’t smile but he wasn’t frowning.
“What’s your name, sir?”
“Stu. Stuart.”
“Very chill vibe in here,” she said. “Like 90s-era grunge but more intentional. I love it. It’s like watching a Nirvana music video.”
I thought Stu might turn
his back on her and leave. But he leaned in. “Back in the day, I got into grunge myself. You?”
“Former grunge girl all the way. I love a flannel shirt, you know?”
He flipped the towel from his shoulder and mopped at a spot on his greasy bar. “Good eye. What do you do, Luna?”
He said Luna like he’d never heard such a strange word.
“I own one of the largest makeup companies in the world.”
He narrowed one eye like a pirate. “Huh.”
“Would you take a picture with me?” she asked.
“Yeah, okay,” Stu said. I glanced behind me to make sure no other signs of the apocalypse were coming our way. Luna flipped her phone, pursed her lips and flashed the peace sign like a pro. Stu’s smile was more grimace but it was definitely a smile. Maybe the first I’d seen on his face in my two decades of drinking here.
“I love it,” she cheered. “Now can I grab two shots of your finest whiskey and two bottles of your most expensive Heineken?”
“I’ve got a bottle of Macallan I haven’t opened,” Stu said, coughing around his shock.
“Put in on my tab, kind sir.”
When she turned back around, braid swinging, I had to hold my jaw closed.
Stu slid the whiskey our way—I’d never had Macallan in all my years of whiskey drinking. Luna clinked our glasses together. “To Sunshine,” she said regally.
Then I watched Luna da Rosa sip a shot of $350 whiskey like she was born doing it.
While wearing my shirt.
All the blood in my body rushed south.
“Drink, Beck,” she said, laughing.
I did as I was told.
It was the finest liquor I’d ever tasted.
“Fuck me,” I said.
“Delicious, right?”
Luna leaned all the way across the bar, giving me a full view of the gorgeous curves of her ass. I was starting to develop a fetish for floral yoga pants.
“Stu, I’m stealing these,” she said, grabbing two pink drink umbrellas. He slid us Heinekens, which she scooped up.
“Join me on the beach?” she asked.
“Sure.”
WILD OPEN HEARTS: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy Page 13
