Her sharp, biting words, practically yelled at him, echoed off the walls. She clamped a hand over her mouth in horror. How could she have unleashed her temper like that? What if someone heard her speak to a veteran that way? “That was uncalled for. I’m sorry.”
Owen chuckled. “Darlin’, I got a thick hide. You didn’t even nick my skin.”
She lowered her hand, sighed, and leaned back in her chair. “Seriously, Owen. I don’t have time for this, and don’t call me darling.”
“Toss me a bone. I’m going stir crazy at home. I’ve offered to help Dad with his mile-long honey-do list, but he brushed me off. He thinks I don’t know what’s going on, but I do. He doesn’t think I’m up to the work.”
A little tear opened in her heart and her defenses, shaking her resolve.
Picking up on her uncertainty, Owen flashed her what she could only think of as a lost puppy in a rainstorm look. “I can only do so many exercises and memory work. I’ve walked around town so much people are thinkin’ I’m a stalker or a Peeping Tom. If I don’t get hauled in for that, I’ll get picked up for vagrancy. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
“Sure, one of Service’s five men in blue, who’ve known you since birth, would pick you up for vagrancy.”
“You can’t blame a man for trying every trick he can.” Despite the big grin on his face and the humor in his voice, she read weariness in Owen’s gaze. “You want to know how to get rid of me?” When she nodded, he continued, “Let me work with you for five minutes. After that, if I’m not helping, I’ll leave.”
She’d banged right into the wall on that one, but he’d also given her a way out. Maybe retreating would be the way to victory. Surely some military genius had said something to that effect. “You promise ifIsay you’re not helping me you’ll go?”
He nodded.
“No questions asked, no arguing, or trying to change my mind?”
“You’ve got my word.”
His answer eased her concerns. Stone carvings would wear away before Owen broke his word. Doubts assuaged, she motioned for him to move his chair closer. Wood screeched against tile when Owen scooted his chair back to stand. A minute later he sat beside her. She angled her screen for him to see. “My biggest problem is how to lay the groundwork for launching the building fund. Once we decide on how to proceed, we’ll go back to these organizations and make a formal appeal.”
“Almost everyone around here has a family member or close friend who’s a veteran. That means they’re primed to donate. Tap into that.”
“It’s not that simple. People want to give money for horses and saddles, or to upgrade the arena because those directly impact veterans. Donating to build office space and replacing mismatched office furniture the Salvation Army would turn down isn’t exciting.”
“Then make it that way.”
Carly rolled her eyes. “Thanks. I never thought of that. Got any brilliant suggestions on how I make the topic thrilling and compelling enough people whip out their wallets?”
“What kind of money are you talking about?”
“Over six figures.”
Owen whistled through his teeth. “That’s a tall order.”
“And with our financially conservative board, we’d need firm commitments for most of that, and a significant portion of the funds in the bank before they’ll agree to break ground.”
“How have you approached the issue so far?”
She rattled off the reasons for needing new administrative office. They lacked individual offices, and if she needed privacy for a call or a meeting, she had to ask Holly to leave, deal with the matters on her assistant’s off hours, or in the case of meetings, conduct them off site. More efficient offices would make the administrative staff more productive, resulting in more money from grants and donations. They lacked anything resembling a conference room for board meetings. Then she ended with the fact that more professional office space would present the right image to the Dallas executives they hoped to garner as corporate sponsors.
“You said people want to give money to areas that directly affect veterans. That’s where you need to keep your focus with the office space. Talk about how this office can affect a client.”
She leaned back in her desk chair and slapped her palm against her forehead. “Okay, I feel like the person who’s on the phone telling her friend she can’t find her cell phone. You know, the one in her hand she’s using to talk to her friend? How could I have missed such an obvious solution?”
Maybe because she’d never looked at their administrative offices from a client’s point of view.
“Let’s see what you’ve got.” As he leaned closer to read the screen, his warm breath fanned against her neck. His clean, outdoorsy scent washed over her bringing with it memories of them together. Her pulse sped up and her body came alive. How was she supposed to concentrate?
“Do you have a picture of this space?” His level and focused voice indicated he felt none of the excitement pulsing through her. Blast him.
She nodded because her mouth was too dry to speak. A few mouse clicks and pictures appeared on the monitor. Owen pointed to a photo of her hunched over papers sprawled across her desk. His long finger tapped on a wider shot of her and Holly seated on the floor assembling signs and a mailing for a past fundraiser. “I say we add these two.”
She swallowed hard.We?No. They were not a “we.” Couldn’t be a “we” with their lives traveling such different paths. While she appreciated his help, she refused to rely on him or anyone. But the thought tempted her. What would it be like to be part of a “we” again?
