Not Your Ex's Hexes (Supernatural Singles, #2)(24)
The two men chuckled.
“Not yet,” Terrance answered. “He had an emergency house call late last night and the clinic’s first appointment isn’t until later, so he’s getting a little extra shut-eye this morning.”
“Good. Maybe the extra sleep will improve his mood … and it also gives me time to prep.”
Miguel handed Butternut’s lead to Terrance and followed her into the office, watching as she made room on the file-ridden desk and opened her computer.
“What do you have there?” Miguel asked, curious.
“This is my plan to help Mari’s Sanctuary without ‘begging for money.’” Rose made herself comfortable on the squeaky office chair and loaded her presentation. “And you may want to record this for posterity because even Damian won’t find fault in it. And if he claims to, he’s lying.”
Miguel grimaced, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. “Rose, I know you mean well, but in case you haven’t noticed, Ian’s a bit of a stubborn mule when it comes to the sanctuary.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Only about the sanctuary?”
The older man smirked. “With just about everything … which is why I know that despite your heart being in the right spot, he won’t listen.”
“Oh, he’ll listen … because despite being pigheaded, he also doesn’t strike me as the type to renege on a deal, either.”
“A deal?”
“Why are you sitting in my chair?” Damian’s deep voice rumbled, turning their heads toward the door. “At my desk?”
Rose ignored his heightened level of grump. “This isn’t a desk. It’s a hazard zone with mounds of unorganized papers, and I’m trying hard not to dwell on how long that half-eaten sandwich has been sitting beneath that stack of manila envelopes. I’m not even certain there’s an actual desk beneath this mess.”
Damian stepped into the office and pushed said sandwich into a nearby trash can. “There. See. Desk. My desk … which is organized exactly how I need it to be to help me find things. Now, explain why you’re sitting there with a computer.”
“Because it’s time for you to fulfill your end of our bet.”
Terrance’s head poked out behind Miguel. “Oooh, a bet! I can’t wait to hear this!”
“But you will…” Damian drilled the teenager with a hard glare. “Don’t you have work to do? Animals to feed and stalls to muck? The shit won’t shovel itself, kid.”
Leaving, Terrance muttered something about missing the fun. Miguel, on the other hand, stayed, watching them curiously.
“Why don’t you pull up a hay bale and let me show you how we can not only pull Mari’s Sanctuary out of the red and help the animals already boarding, but possibly take on more.” Rose smiled sweetly, her grin widening as Damian’s frown deepened.
“I don’t have time to listen to fantasy ideas. I have a million things to do this morning.” He helped himself to the pot of cold, old coffee from the corner table.
Miguel interrupted, “I already did the well-being checks on all the animals and Terrance put the mares into the pasture for their morning field time.”
“Then the clinic’s—”
“First appointment isn’t until Mrs. Ali brings her Yorkie in for her weekly weight check and that’s”—Miguel glanced at his watch—“not for a half hour.”
“You lost a bet, doc.” Rose used her best Prima Apparent voice. “And I know we haven’t known each other long, but I never once thought of you as the type to backpedal on a deal made. I’d be very disappointed to find out I was wrong.”
She wasn’t beyond baiting, and thanks to working alongside her grandmother for years she was practically a professional fisherwoman … and Damian Adams was a huge freakin’ bass.
A sexy, denim-clad, and T-shirt-wearing bass …
And she couldn’t lie. It was a good thing she was sitting because the sight of a stethoscope shoved into his jeans’ back pocket did funny things to her equilibrium.
She held Damian’s probing gaze, unwilling to back down, and she didn’t. With a heavy sigh moving his broad shoulders, he dragged a stack of boxes next to her and motioned for Miguel to sit, and then he hovered over her left shoulder, his chest so close it brushed her back when he breathed.
“You’ve got twenty minutes, little witch,” Damian’s voice grumbled. “And as a recap, I agreed to listen to your idea, not to implement it.”
Wearing a smirk, Rose turned until their mouths were one pucker away from touching. Her gaze bounced from his lips to his gray eyes, catching him doing the same. “I’m not concerned. Once you hear my plan, you’ll be kicking yourself for not listening to me sooner … and I’m gracious enough to maybe not tell you I told you so.”
“Clock’s ticking, little witch…”
With a slight roll of her eyes, she shifted her attention back to the computer and brought up her presentation. “If my understanding was right, your objection to fundraising was—”
“Begging rich people to save us,” Damian finished.
“Right … and while direct fundraising would be the quickest way to raise funds, it’s not the only way. Not by a long shot. I researched for hours, and I admit, I almost threw in the towel, but then I came across this.”