Chapter 16
GWEN
I’d never been to a meeting like this one.
Yeah, the crap that went down at McPherson could get a little wild—there was one meeting that involved Nerf guns—but it usually felt like a frat party that made me want to keep my water bottle covered. What was happening at Ashford felt like an official tickertape parade for us.
Harrison and I walked into the conference room to a standing ovation. The stock price was posted on the whiteboard, and there was a full, fancy breakfast buffet on the side table.
He stood at the head of the table with his head bowed, looking every inch the reluctant hero until the applause died down.
“Teamwork makes the dreamwork,” he said, kicking off another round of applause. He continued when the room went quiet again. “Seriously, I couldn’t have made that happen without all of your help. And a big thank you to Gwen Ackland as well. She was instrumental.”
Every eye in the room fixed on me, and my cheeks grew hot as the applause kicked off yet again. I gave a little embarrassed wave.
“You two are a dream team,” Denise marveled. “So good.”
Yeah, Harrison and I were amazing together, and that was the problem.
We hadn’t gotten a chance to talk about my mortifying professional breach in the hallway after the concert.
Part of me wanted to finally have it out so we could put the whole matter behind us…
but another part of me was dreading having that talk.
How was I going to explain the kiss as anything other than what it was: The inevitable result of my nonstop desire to strip the man naked and tongue bathe every inch of his perfect body?
Maybe we could just pretend the kiss never happened.
“Appreciate it. Thanks, everyone,” Harrison held his hands up. “If it’s okay, I’d like to move on from the victory lap, because we’ve got some planning to do for the adoption event.”
That we did. I’d run plenty of events but never one that involved live animals on site. I could figure out the logistics, of course, but I hoped Denise or someone else on the team had experience with the many layers required to run a successful adoption day.
“First step is location. Let’s throw out some ideas. Anyone?” Harrison asked.
“What about in the hangar at the airport?”
“Good call on picking an option with plenty of space, but it’s got other issues.” Harrison shook his head at the guy. “Way too noisy. Plus, logistically, it’s sort of impossible since the parking lot is so far away. What else?”
Susan raised her hand from her spot in the corner. She took notes during our meetings and rarely spoke up.
Harrison nodded toward her. “What are you thinking?”
“There’s a gigantic parking lot right across from the Nato Beach shelter, where that furniture store is. What if we ask if we can use it? That way we’d have plenty of space for the dogs, and there’s street parking all around it.”
Harrison pursed his lips and squinted as he considered it, like he was trying to visualize how it would play out. “Yeah, that could work. I never see anyone there.”
“That store is a money-laundering front,” a voice joked from the far end of the table, and everyone laughed.
“We could offer to rent the space, but I bet if we tell them it’s a charity event, they’ll let us use it for free,” Brianna suggested.
I started to categorize all of the moving parts that would be necessary to pull it all off. “Will the Nato staff and volunteers be willing to help out?”
Harrison nodded. “Yeah, but they run a slim operation. They’re already pushed to the limit.”
“Well, I’ll be there,” I said without thinking.
Obviously, I’d be part of the behind-the-scenes planning of the day, but I also wanted to be present for the fun of witnessing canine happily ever afters.
“Me too,” Susan said.
“Same,” Denise echoed. “I think you’re looking at a room full of highly competent people who want to help make the magic happen on the big day.”
Harrison paused. “I wasn’t going to issue a mandate that Ashford staff had to be on site, but I was hoping a few people would volunteer to help out. Let’s get a rough headcount. How many of you are able to be there?”
The room erupted in noise and happy chatter as every single person raised their hand. I felt a rush of warmth for my colleagues.
“Seriously?” Harrison laughed. “Well okay then. This changes my direction, because I thought I’d only have a skeleton crew. Looks like we’ll be fully staffed up. This means the Nato folks can focus on the paperwork and vetting of potential adopters, and we’ll take care of the rest.”
“An event like this is new for me, but I’ll do my best,” Susan began.
“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 or increase 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 holy fuck was 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 on the 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 off his clothes, 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.
How many 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’m kidding. 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?”
He shook his head like he was embarrassed to admit it. “It sounds so stupid. There’s this belief that the first person who flies any plane is…is bonded to that plane. Like, their DNA becomes enmeshed with the plane somehow.”
“What?”
He nodded. “Yep. The first pilot supposedly sets the tone for the plane’s entire career, so the goal is to always have someone competent and positive piloting the maiden voyage.
Kevin is currently in a, uh, transitional place, so he doesn’t feel like he should be the first person to fly it.
He’s kind of up in his head right now, and he’s afraid he’d…
” Harrison broke off to shake his head sheepishly. “He’s afraid he’d curse the plane.”
It made sense that pilots had superstitions. After all, they had an unbelievable amount of stress on them, flying a monster of a machine in weather that could flip on a dime, and with the responsibility of keeping other people alive while soaring ten thousand feet above the earth.
“So wait, when you said that you’d do it—did you mean you’re going to do the first trip?” I said slowly as I pieced the puzzle together. “Is that a good idea? When’s the last time you flew?”
His eyes flashed at me. “What are you implying?”
I pulled a face. I knew Harrison as the bosshole in chief, not the man in the cockpit. “Can pilots get rusty from lack of practice?”
“They can, yes, but that doesn’t mean I have. You have no idea how often I fly,” he fired back at me.
“You’re right,” I replied. “No offense, I’m sure you’re great at it, but to me you’re an office guy.”
His mouth dropped open. “A what?”
“I’m sorry, I just can’t picture it,” I admitted as my shoulder crept up to my ears, because I could tell he didn’t like my perspective of him.
He stood up so abruptly that his chair shot out from behind him and hit the wall. “That’s it. We’re leaving.”
“Excuse me?”
“Now,” he opened his office door and pointed down the hallway. “I’m going to fly the Embraer for the first time, and you’re coming with me.”