AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Hey! I was looking at that,” I protest, reaching over him to grab the mouse.
He slides it out of reach. “It isn’t finished yet.”
“Wait.” I lean back in surprise. “This is one ofyourwebsites?”
“It’s a small side project.” He fiddles with the mouse, deftly avoiding my gaze as he opens a blank tab.
“It didn’t look like a small side project,” I say, watching him closely. He seems twitchy—nervous, almost—which is so unlike him. “Can I see it?”
“It’s nothing. We should get to work if you—”
I place my hand over his, stilling his fingers, and his voice falls away.
We both stare at our stacked hands, neither of us moving. His skin is warm, and heat spreads through my fingertips to my palm, traveling the length of my arm, scattering goose bumps along the way.
Startled by the sensation, I yank my hand away and take a moment to untangle my muddled emotions. “You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to,” I say in the kind of soft, tentative voice you’d use to avoid spooking a skittish horse. “But it’s definitely not nothing. And I’d genuinely love to see it. One day. When you’re comfortable sharing it.”
He thoughtfully strokes the mouse, then, with a quick click, the site reappears. “It’s not finished yet,” he reiterates, still avoiding my gaze. “It’s a passion project I’ve been working on for the last year or so.”
“Is it an online marketplace?” I ask, noting the various product categories.
“Yeah, like the one that’s already taken over the world,” he says wryly, as if even he can’t believe he’s trying to compete with such a monolithic company. “Except all the products on my site are heavily curated from businesses with a shared ethos to protect people and the planet as much as possible.”
I nod as I scroll, recognizing several B Corp, fair trade, and cruelty-free brands I already buy.
“The acronym MAD stands for Make A Difference. Anytime you need something, like a new frying pan, for example, you can type it into the search bar or use the category filters. All the products that pop up have been carefully vetted, so you can be assured each purchase you make is from a company making a positive impact on the world.”
As I surf the site, I can tell he’s put a lot of thought, time, and effort into the project. It’s stylish yet streamlined. User-friendly and functional yet high-end. In short, it’s brilliant, and my chest swells with pride. “Ethan, this is incredible. Seriously. I’d definitely use this as my main hub for online shopping. The idea is so ingenious, I can’t believe no one has done it before.”
If I’m not mistaken, there’s a faint flush beneath his five-o’clock shadow. Is Ethan Delaney blushing? I can’t believe it. There’s also this adorable glow of appreciation in his hazel eyes. And maybe something more, something deeper, but I can’t quite place it.
He clears his throat and looks away, staring at the screen. “There are a few others, but they’re operating on a much smaller scale. I don’t think anyone’s crazy enough to take on the top dog.”
“That’s because they’re not a Daft Delaney,” I say with a laugh, recalling the tongue-in-cheek idiom Ethan and Brynn’s dad always used whenever they had an ambitious or outlandish idea.
The Delaneys lived by a completely different life philosophy than the Carmichaels. In my family, you either succeeded or you might as well not even try. But in Ethan’s family, every failure was a step forward. “When does your site go live?”
“Honestly? Probably never.”
“What? Why?”
Ethan combs his fingers through his hair, his telltale sign of frustration. “I’ve hit a wall. In order for this idea to have a shot, it needs momentum. It needs money. Serious money.”
“Like investors?”
“Yeah. And a killer marketing campaign. No one can use the site if they don’t know it exists.”
He has a point, and my heart sinks. “It’s not like a Delaney to give up.”
“Tell me about it.” He grins ruefully. “But I’m man enough to admit when I’m in over my head.”
I can’t help thinking it’s a funny choice of words. In all my life, I’ve never heard Dad or Matt say they couldn’t do something. Heaven forbid they ever ask for help.
“What if I help?” I blurt.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, marketing is kind of my thing. What if I help you put together a presentation for investors?”
