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He gives credit surprisingly easily, like it doesn’t hurt his ego to admit that someone else has a hand in his success.
God help me, I like that.
I like it way too much.
“As long as you pay her well,” I say, teasing him again.
“Agonizingly well, as she’s reminded daily.”
That does it, I smile.
This is the side of Shepherd he doesn’t like to show.
When he’s talking about endangered animals and charities and how he treats his employees, he’s not half-bad.
Even his stance is different now.
His shoulders are looser, less militantly stiff, the sternness gone from his eyes.
And he keeps almost-smiling when I look at him.
For Shepherd, that’s a freaking lot.
It’s the nicest thing just talking like this.
Like we’re halfway to being friends instead of the iron bossman and his confused shadow.
Somehow, that matters.
Maybe because I’ve fought my whole life for a chance to find my own footing without needing to stake my life on Dad’s reputation and money.
The fact that Shepherd accepts me even though I’m miles beneath him on the corporate ladder makes my toes curl in my shoes and my belly explode with—
Yep.
Butterflies.
I can’t remember the last time I ever felt them.
And all because he’s exhibiting basic human decency after making so many mistakes yesterday. My standards must be hilariously low.
“It’s nice knowing you have a good relationship with your assistant,” I say.
“What? Did you suspect she was terrorized on a daily basis?”
I flash him a look that makes him snicker. “You tried to terrorizeme.”
“Tried? How disappointing.”
“Was that another joke, Foster?”
His smile disappears. “No, damn you.”
I burst out laughing, scaring away some seagulls waddling on the shore.
So much for trying to be quiet out here and using library voices.
“Funny, right?” I move closer, nudging his arm with my elbow. “People are more complex than you give them credit for.”
