Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
The lines on his face loosen.
He doesn’t shake off the anger entirely, and he doesn’t smile, but it’s something.
He clasps his hands together and leans forward.
“If you can’t do the work, you’re welcome to give up now. You’ll still collect your donation to a conservation charity of your choice. I didn’t say that up front, but why prolong this torture for both of us if you won’t pretend to do the job? Take your money and run.”
Bastard.
Just keeping my expression neutral hurts my face.
He won’t win.
He won’t bait me into losing my shit, even as he insults my intelligence, my work ethic, and my person in a single quip.
“Because. I have the chance to do way more good than a one-time donation here. That much is clear from working fifteen-hour days on this proposal,” I explain. I squeeze my fingers together until my knuckles threaten to pop. “It’s not that I don’t have it ready. I’m basically done.”
He raises an eyebrow but says nothing.
God, would it kill him to show some surprise?
“I could turn it in and present it to the board right now if you want. It’s just that I need more time because you need more time.”
“Excuse me?” He frowns. “More time for what?”
“To go to the Olympic Forest with me.”
His chair spins slightly as he jolts back with a snort. “And why the hell would I go tromping through the woods with you, of all people?”
Ouch. Would that really be so atrocious?
“Sea otters,” I throw back simply.
Foster stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.
I’m hard-pressed not to start laughing my head off.
Weirdly, it’s almost cute to see this grouch look so gobsmacked.
Don’t get me wrong, I expected him to be surprised.
No way did he see this coming, though.
Not a chance.
But I never expected his blank look, clearing the harsh scorn he’s been beaming my way from the second I walked through his door.
And holy shit, I didn’t need to notice how blue his eyes are with curiosity.
They’re practically gems set against the sunset spilling in, glowing like sapphires, glinting and transforming his face from Ice King to Judgmental God.
I can’t help it.
I’m staring helplessly as I press my lips together, fighting not to laugh—and failing.
“Sea otters,” he repeats like he’s testing to see whether he misheard me. “You want me to drop everything to see otters? Is that a serious proposal?”
...well, when he says it like that, he really does make it sound off the wall.
“I mean, I’ve been planning an otter stakeout past Olympia for ages,” I say. “If I can’t spot them in person, I’d love to check out their habitat, at least. I love those little guys and—it’s research, okay?”
“Research,” he repeats dryly.
I wonder if he has a button under his desk for security. Am I three seconds from a pack of stoic brutes dragging me out of the building?
“For community reporting to the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife?” I venture. “They welcome public assistance with sightings and tracking. The otters are endangered and also really hard to find, so the state’s always keen for any help.”
Finally, it’s getting through to him.
The sour disbelief leaves his face, but although he nods, a muscle in his jaw ticks.
Good.
I’ve gone and pissed him off again, just like I expected.
If I can sell him on this trip, then convincing him to use company resources for animal tracking ought to be a breeze.
“Technically, this is part of my presentation. The perfect chance to demonstrate future applications and observations for your technology out in the wild,” I say, shifting forward so I can balance my elbows on the table and face the music in those glinting blue eyes.
Dad always used to nail me on posture when I was a little girl.
Elbows don’t belong on tables, bad manners, especially in a business setting, and I know that.
I also know I should be prim and proper and remind Foster that I’m not the bad-mouthing kind of pretty girl Vanessa Dumas is.
Also, these are otters we’re talking about.
Debra Hollens and her awesome interview are great material. Perfectly convincing but also a bit predictable.
But the otters—they’re my ace in the hole.
They’re for winning Foster over and bringing this home.
“Just think about it.” I hold up my hands. “Just for a second, okay? I know you’re a nature guy from—um, that morning we met. Say no more.” I beam him a strained smile.
He’s so not amused.
His nostrils flare.
“The otters are notoriously difficult to spot in the wild,” I continue. “And since the government is asking for civilian help, Home Shepherd has a perfect green light. Your drones could change their tracking like nothing else. And if it works in a real field test like this, it could help for way more than just otters.”
I expect him to laugh me off if he doesn’t have me dragged away and unceremoniously dumped in the back alley next to the dumpster first.