“Well, it’s not new for me since I’ve worked a few with Nato, so I can kick off the process,” Harrison pointed out. “Let’s start by forming committees. We need a two-person liaison team that’ll communicate with Nato so they don’t get inundated by us, a design team to create promotional social media content, a research team to create the profiles for the adoptable dogs that are quirkier than what the shelter puts out, a marketing team to secure press, and then a street team who’ll be the canine ambassadors on the day of the event. We’ll start by figuring out who goes where.”
Susan connected her tablet to the smart board and created categories for the different groups while I tried not to be too obvious about staring at Harrison.
I’d seen him being the big boss a few times already, but this felt different. He wasn’t trying to squeeze out more profits orincrease market share or heighten efficiency. Instead, the man was giving a charity event for dogs—and he was giving it the same amount of attention and dedication he’d give to his speech for an annual board meeting.
He shouted out the carb puppies—Pancake, Muffin, Bagel, and Toast—and talked about buying his favorite harness for all of the dogs attending the event, so they’d look like a team. He told a story about how he helped a senior citizen find the perfect companion, a toothless senior poodle. Harrison had a passion for Ashford Jets, but it was clear his devotion to the shelter dogs was just as strong.
And holyfuckwas it sexy.
Why did I have to be so damn hot for my boss?
There was no need for me to volunteer for a committee since both Harrison and I knew I’d take a supervisory role that would mean my fingerprints would be all over the event. Right beside his.
I sighed. How did I ever think the kiss was a good idea? I mean, in the moment, it’d been incredible, but the fact that it hadn’t even come up made it clear that whatever I was feeling was one-sided.
Which was fine. We had plenty to tackle.
If I could just keep my focus off of his ass.
Hours later, we were back to business as usual, which had me stopping by Harrison’s office for our scheduled postmortem onthe press from his show appearance. He was on the phone but waved me in.
I hadn’t spent a ton of time in his office, so I took the opportunity to study the space. To my surprise, Harrison’s office made it clear that stuffed deep inside of the CEO control freak was a beach bum.
His office was downright tranquil, from the sun-bleached natural wood slats along the ceiling to the giant wave paintings on the walls to the collection of fine art surfboards suspended across from the desk. I felt like I was at a beachside spa, getting ready for a massage.
Which made me think of stripping off my clothes, which made me think of Harrison stripping offhisclothes, which made me blush ferociously. Thankfully, Harrison was focused on his laptop.
“Of course I think you’re worthy of it,” Harrison was saying. “Are you saying you don’t want to pilot our new Embraer? C’mon, we both know most pilots would kill for a chance at that.”
He listened and frowned. Out of curiosity, I quickly looked up the cost of the latest jet in the Ashford fleet and choked on the number.
Howmany millions was the damn thing worth?
“Yes, I know that,” Harrison continued. “Well aware, my friend. But you still haven’t answered my question.”
He listened, still frowning.
“No one yet. You’d be the first person to fly it. It’s so new they haven’t even taken the plastic off the mirrors.” A pause. “Kev, I’mkidding. Stop.”
The same Kevin who’d called while we were in New York? We’d had so much going on that night that I’d never done my nosy due diligence to find out the reason for the call.
“Only top-tier VIPs. And you’re the best pilot we’ve got, so it makes sense. Hell, you’re the best pilot I’ve ever known.”
Harrison went silent again, and I was on the edge of my seat, waiting to see what he’d say next. For whatever reason, this Kevin guy was getting buttered up big time, and I wanted to know why.
“Fine,” he said. “Yeah, I’ll do it. I’ll send you photos to prove it, then it’s yours. Got it?” He nodded. “Later, bro.”
Harrison blew out a long breath as he disconnected the call.
“Who was that?” I asked.
“My buddy Kevin. He just signed on to fly for us. I want him to be the first person to pilot our new jet, but there’s this dumb superstition…”
I laughed at his chagrined expression. “You really buy into superstitions?”
“No,” he scoffed. “Me? Never.”
“But you mentioned the weather superstition when we were in the city,” I reminded him. “And what’s this one?”
