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“Exactly. So, what are you eating tonight?”
“I’m not having you pay for dinner,” she hissed.
“I won’t be. This is a working dinner, we’ll expense it. It’s a write-off,” he shrugged.
Ruby came over with a little notepad and pencil. “What’ll it be, kids?”
Will looked pointedly at Rebelle and she sighed and gave in. “Just a water and the tomato soup with a grilled cheese sandwich, please?”
Will hummed. “Sounds good, make it two please, Ruby. And a side of fries, blueberry waffles, hash browns and a chocolate milkshake.”
Rebelle stared at him in disbelief. He just grinned, patted his stomach and she could see the muscled ridges through his shirt. “I’m a growing boy.”
“So, how long have you lived in Citrus Pines?” he asked when Ruby left to place their order.
She frowned. “Isn’t this a work dinner?”
He cocked his head. “Exactly, I’m getting to know my boss.”
“I’m not your boss,” she replied.
“But you’re going to tell me what to do,” he said, his eyes twinkling, and she squirmed at how deep his voice went.
“My whole life,” she replied, her frustration growing.
“Did you meet your husband here?”
She bristled; she refused to think about that vile man. “So, how does this all work now, then?”
He blinked but didn’t reply, just waited her out. She knew he wanted an answer, but she wasn’t going to give one.
“Either we talk about work, or I leave. So start talking,” she said quietly, her tone leaving no room for discussion.
His nostrils flared and his expression shuttered. She thought for a moment he was angry and her pulse kicked but when he opened his eyes, there was an unmistakable heat to them. Heat that made her feel all itchy.
“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I thought chatting beforehand would ease you into our new relationship.” He paused before the wordrelationshipand her mouth ran dry at the implication of the word. She needed to pull herself together, but she was all out of sorts. She was out, socializing, well, working but in a social atmosphere. This was so unlike her, and her nerves were struggling with it. She closed her eyes, feeling her panic beginning to rise and she decided to count out what’s good.The shelter, Parfait’s health, Justine expecting a baby, the home…
When she finished, her eyes opened as her food was placed in front of her. She could feel the intensity of Will’s stare on her and refused to meet his gaze. The delicious scent of tomato soup wafted up from the steaming bowl and her stomach growled appreciatively. There was something so comforting about grilled cheese and tomato soup, and she eagerly dived in.
They ate in silence, and she observed Will’s table manners. He ate a bit of each meal, like he didn’t know where to start and wasworried it would be taken away from him before he got to each plate.
Her cheeks heated when his lips pursed around the fork. She cataloged the details of him, the way he dabbed gently at his mouth with his napkin. He ran his finger around the rim of his glass slowly, his long-tapered fingers with short nails. Marcus had never trimmed his nails and they were filthy and scratched at her. She shuddered slightly at the memory and turned her attention back to Will. She admired that he took care of himself.
When they finished, he pulled out a file that she hadn’t noticed and slid it across the table to her. She tentatively took it and opened it, gasping. It contained a business plan, ambitions for five, seven and ten years of the shelter. The paperwork to start registering as a non-profit organization. She flicked through it, not understanding what some of it even was but it looked important. She saw contracts drawn up for suppliers, a new bank account that had a sum of money in it that made her eyes water.
“Will…” she shook her head, flicking through the rest in amazement. “How did you do this in a few hours?”
He shrugged like it was nothing. “I’ve got some experience in this kind of thing.”
She snorted at his nonchalance, flicking through and finding the invoice for a domain name www.takeachanceshelter.org and it all looked so official, tears began to well in her eyes.
“You think that’s good, wait until you see this,” he said and slid a piece of paper across the table to her. She looked at it and frowned at all the zeros.
“What’s this?” she asked, taking a sip of water.
“Your salary.”
She choked on an ice cube, clapping her hand to her chest. “Absolutely not,” she growled.
