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Staring up at the ceiling, I drag my hand across my beard and try to steady my racing heart. Maybe the girl in the bar with the poster is still hanging around. If I go back and find her, there’s a chance she can distract me from the forbidden fruit that is Jackie Harper.

Deep down, I acknowledge it’s futile, so I roll to my side and punch my pillow a few times, doing my damnedest to lock out visions of silky blond hair, pale green eyes, and a smile that curves the most beautiful mouth I’ve ever seen.

Why does she have to be Donovan Fucking Harper’s sister?

Chapter 17

Foundations

Jackie

I do a happy dance around my bedroom and finally flop backward on the mattress when I’m out of breath. I want to call Peggy tonight, but it’s after eleven. Should I call her tomorrow? It’s Sunday. Or should I wait until Monday? What if the job is snapped up by someone else by then? Colby said they were desperate.

Self-doubt creeps in. Why would they want me? Despite Colby’s encouraging words, my skills don’t match what I know of the job description. Colby was just being nice when he gave me the rah-rah speech, but it did plump my deflated ego. But what if I wait, and he asks if I’ve contacted her and she tells him no? He’ll think I didn’t appreciate his effort, and that would be downright rude.

I stare at my phone, tempted to send Peggy a text so she sees it in the morning. She sits on the board and likely carries weight when it comes to the hire, so this is more than a thank-you. Wait. She’s probably asleep, and a chime will wake her. Not a great impression to leave. Instead, I compose a text I plan to send in the morning.

Hi, this is Jackie Harper. Thank you again for taking the time to discuss the job with me. It sounds like a wonderful opportunity, and I’m definitely interested. I realize it’s the weekend, so please don’t feel obligated to respond unless it’s convenient for you.

Backspacing, I delete at least ten words. My brain can’t come up with a better way to word the message, so I retype the same one again. With a shaky finger, I go to swipe away from this screen but do the unthinkable. I accidentally hit send.

Shit, shit, shit!

Horrified, I toss the phone on the bed beside me and grab a pillow so I can bury my head. Like that’s actually going to help. When the device pings with a text, I snatch it back up and inhale deep into my lungs as I prepare for a scathing reply about the lateness of the hour.

I’m so glad to hear it! Can I call you in about five minutes? It would be easier to discuss over the phone.

Unsteady hands cradle the phone before I reply with an Absolutely! Guess she’s up late tonight too.

Seven minutes pass, and my pacing wears a rut in the carpet. She’s probably texting Colby and asking what the hell is wrong with this woman he recommended for the job.

My phone rings, and I pounce.

“I’m so sorry about texting you this late,” I babble. “I composed the message but didn’t mean to send it until tomorrow. My finger accidentally bumped the send button.”

“No worries. I do things like that all the time. Technology is not my strong suit,” she chuckles. “Anyway, I figured you’re a night owl, like me. So. You are interested?”

I swallow. “I am, although to be honest, I’m worried I’m not the best candidate.”

“How about you let Brandon and me be the judge of that?” Her voice is shot through with warmth, and my bunched neck muscles relax.

“Brandon?”

“Brandon Kirby. He’s the director. He’d be your boss. I’ve talked to him about you, and how you worked for a start-up in your last job and whipped them into shape. He’s very interested in sitting down and going into more detail than I can about what the job entails.”

Along with Colby, Peggy has possibly oversold me. “Did you let him know I worked for a biotech company in the finance department? Nothing remotely like nonprofit work.”

“I did. This may not be in the same field, but Brandon agrees that New Horizons needs the kind of organizational magic it sounds like you’re capable of. You know, I think you’ll like him. If you’re on board, I’ll introduce the two of you through email and let you work out a time to meet. How does that sound?”

How does it sound? Like the ca-ching, ca-ching, ca-ching of a slot machine spitting out its biggest jackpot into my hands—and I’m not talking about coins. “That would be wonderful.” My restrained voice masks the excitement fizzing in my belly.

After I thank her profusely, we chat a bit longer despite the late hour. I gather my nerve to ask a question that’s been dancing on the tip of my tongue. “So how do you and Colby know each other?”

Her voice transforms from friendly to guarded. “He hasn’t told you?”

“I haven’t asked. But I was just curious because it seems like you two work closely together with those kids.” I’m dying to ask what the connection is, but I wait instead, hoping she’ll fill the silence with answers. She doesn’t, so I prod. “So you organize field trips for the children?”

“Something like that. I’m the coordinator at a different foundation that provides opportunities for disabled kids to learn about sailing.”