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Hmm. Maybe this was why Shep didn’t want me to have his money. Fundamental differences of opinion.

Not that I wanted his money. Only his son.

No! I didn’t want that either.

“I suppose that’s true,” I said, and followed him down the four stairs to the epoxy floor. “Though it seems excessive.”

He thought about that for a few seconds, then nodded. “It does seem excessive.”

“This is normal for you, isn’t it?”

Slowing beside some green contraption that looked as if it belonged on a celebrity safari, he glanced back at me. “I’m white, rich, and male. That’s a fact of life, and I can’t change it. But I’ve tried hard to check my privilege.”

I strode closer to him, a little doubtful. “How?”

“We give a lot of money to charity.”

“Yeah, but⁠—”

He held up a finger. “Before me, no women even worked at Henley. I changed that. I leveled the salaries across all employment levels, which… Honestly? That oversight was appalling. The previous HR manager was clearly racist, so I got rid of him. Basically forced Ivy into the role so she’d help me fix it all.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he cut me off, even more vehemently than before.

“Everyone gets all major religious holidays off regardless of their religion. My family contributes to a fund I created to help employees financially when they need it, no questions asked. Until that ridiculous ad came out, I was attempting to diversify our marketing so it wouldn’t all aim toward people who look like me. I instituted a non-discrimination policy so Ivan could hug his goddamn boyfriend without being publicly harassed about it. And don’t worry, the harasser was immediately fired. That happened in my first week.”

“Shepherd—”

“I don’t know what the hell was happening there before I came along, but the place was operating like it was still 1993, and there’s a lot of work yet to be done, but I’ve tried⁠—”

“Cam.” I stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm—his bare, not-distracting-at-all forearm.

He dropped his gaze to stare at the contact between us. “I’m only one person, but I see the struggles all around me, and I’m trying to change them.” He set his hand atop mine. “But also, I like fast cars.”

Laughter seized me and wouldn’t let go. I gave into it for several moments before looking up at him. “Fair enough, Shepherd. Take me home in one of them.”

With a wink, he led me toward the same black sedan he drove to work, but I stilled in front of a sleek red beauty shining beside it. The car was all aerodynamic curves and masculine lines, somehow looking both angry and sensual all at once.

If sex was a car, this would be it.

I only realized I’d said it out loud when his attention snapped to my face, opening the floodgates for every drop of blood in my body to wash into my cheeks. The sensation of being utterly exposed settled over me like a wet blanket.

“Do you want to drive it?” he asked.

I peeked at him from the corner of my eye. The cocky half-grin proved an irresistible temptation, and he reached behind him to pluck a key off the wall, dangling it before me like bait.

“You’re serious?” I asked.

He held the key closer, but as I stretched to grab it, he closed it in his fist. “One condition.”

I scrunched my nose at him in a pretend glare. “What is it?”

“Save me a dance on Saturday?”

With a smile, I agreed, and he tossed me the key. I practically flew to the driver’s side and reached for the door handle, only to screech when my finger met a button and the door popped upward instead of out.

He laughed, moving at a far more reasonable pace to the passenger side. “They’re scissor doors.”

“Oh. Of course they are.” I waved a hand like everyone knew what scissor doors were, and slipped into the sexiest inanimate object on the planet, closing the fancy space door behind me. My hands caressed the steering wheel, and I bounced in my seat. “How do I start it?”