Page 25 of Starting Over with Her Billionaire Boss

“You could stop by,” she suggested. Kinsley’s attempt to finish his thought was cute, but not quite what he’d been hinting at.

He smiled, not wanting to correct her. He had full intentions to bring her along. She would enjoy the property and, if luck was in his favor, he might be able to convince her to sell her home.

“But until then, we have some other work to get done,” he said as he exited his vehicle and led Kinsley inside.

The sharp tang of disinfectant clung to the air, mingling with the faint aroma of freshly baked bread. The worn linoleum beneath his feet squeaked, its faded patterns a testament to decades of wear. Voices echoed down the halls—some hushed with gratitude, others hurried with purpose—all of them a symphony of community and resilience. He could almost feel the warmth of his father’s pride beside him, as if his firm hand would grasp Daegan’s shoulder at any moment. This place was more than a shelter—it was a living piece of his father’s legacy.

Daegan stole a glance at Kinsley in time to catch her taking it all in.

“Mr. Westerhouse!” a familiar voice shouted from across the room.

Daegan turned to find Patti waving at him. After all these years, Patti was still in charge of the shelter and all the outreach programs that ran through it. Daegan lifted a hand as a brief ‘hello’ and whispered, “This way,” to Kinsley. Grabbing her hand, he led her through the crowded room.

A jolt of awareness burned through him with every step. He wasn’t linking fingers with her, yet just taking her hand in his was waking up something dormant within him. Why had he grabbed her hand, instead of just expecting her to follow him?

Kinsley lightly squeezed his hand, bringing his thoughts back around. Swiftly, he continued through the busy room toward Patti.

“A new face today!” Patti exclaimed, shining her pearly whites which Daegan had grown fond of in the last decade.

“This is my new personal assistant, Kinsley. Kinsley, this is Patti DeVeau, director of the shelter.” Daegan let go of Kinsley’s hand, though not before Patti took notice.

“Oh, a personal assistant?” her gazed shifted from Daegan to Kinsley. “Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, dear, and I hope you’re ready to hustle.”

“Pleasure to meet you, as well.” Kinsley smiled back.

“Today I need you two to help put together some care packages of food. Families will be coming by to pick them up today and tomorrow.” Patti directed her gaze toward Kinsley. “We have been trying to crack down on food insecurity within the community, especially for families with children. You’ll find a list of the different items that go in the bags, and how many of the bags for each household and—” she cut herself off. “Well, I think you can figure it out.” She flashed another smile. “Just head right on down the hall and it’s the first door on the right.”

“Thanks, Patti,” Daegan said. As they turned to walk down the narrow hallway, Daegan placed his hand on the small of Kinsley’s back. The touch was casual, but the warmth that spread through his fingertips wasn’t. She glanced back at him, her expression unreadable, but something in her gaze lingered longer than before. For just a second, it made his heart stumble.

The aroma of freshly baked bread greeted them warmly as they walked in. Boxes upon boxes of donations were set up on tables with yet more tables empty—a place to put the empty bags that needed filling. The room itself was larger than one might think. Its outdated salmon-pink walls and faded linoleum floors likely dated back to the 70s. Large, bright floor lamps provided a bit of an inconsistent lighting across the room, assisting the dim overhead globes. He really needed to get that milk glass replaced, or see someone about the wattage.

“Why don’t you set some bags out on the empty tables, Kins, and I’ll look for the packaging sheet from Patti,” Daegansuggested, walking toward the tables with the donations. After a very brief search, he came across the instructions left by Patti. The first set of donations were for fifty bags with a focus on vegetables, fruits, canned goods, and bread.

“Why did you bring me along?” Kinsley asked as she began setting out bags.

“It’s a slow day at work and I figured we both could use a few hours out of the office,” he lied. In truth, he wanted her to see the state of the town—the struggle, the boarded-up businesses. Maybe she’d understand the bigger picture beyond her single home if she saw firsthand what was at stake.

“Like our coffee walk?”

“That was different,” he said. “That was a necessity.”

Out of the corner of his eye he caught her looking his way. But instead of annoyance, there was a sly smile on her face. However she felt about him, she was at least happy to help out those in need.

As he reached for another can of green beans, he couldn’t help but watch her work. He’d been avoiding doing so all week, and the distance had left him hollow. Her focused, delicate fingers deftly tied off a bag, her face framed by the soft glow of the outdated lamps. The words he needed to say were right there, heavy and leaden, but the sound of her laughing softly as she worked brought them to a screeching halt. This house wasn’t just a property. It was her home, her anchor. How could he ask her to give that up?

He couldn’t do it—not yet. But he also couldn’t forget about it. His father’s legacy and the future of the entire town hinged on its success. But Kinsley was becoming important, too, and that terrified him more than any deal ever could.

Mr. Westerhouse seemed sodistant even as he worked just a few steps away. Unaffected by what happened between them just days ago, or by a last-minute trip across the country. And, possibly most shocking to Kinsley, unaffected by the way he had gently touched her, as if it was an everyday occurrence.This was the longest time she’d spent in a room alone with him since that awful visit to her home, when he’d confirmed her worst suspicions.

But the lingering warmth of his hand on hers still sent a shiver down hers. This wasn’t part of the plan—to feel anything for him, to see this side of him. But here she was, unable to let go of the memory of his touch.

Perhaps she was over-analyzing, reading too much into it. She had a tendency to do that at times. Yet she couldn’t shake off this feeling, or the confusion it stirred within her.

As the afternoon progressed, a new side of Mr. Westerhouse began to emerge. His kind generosity was blatantly obvious. In the office, he was different, more reserved. But here, amongst people with giving hearts, his compassion for others shined through. He wasn’t entirely the arrogant, out-of-touch billionaire she had originally assumed him to be. The man had turned her biggest turnoff into a major turn-on.

Even the car ride back to the office felt different. He was cracking jokes, talking excitedly about how he would see Kinsley in just a few short hours for their late-night flight across the country. Instead of explaining what work they would be traveling for, he brought up different goals he had for helping around the community.I should be excited,Kinsley thought toherself as she listened. But she wasn’t sure what to make of any of it.

It would be so much easier if her boss was an asshole. Sure, he had his moments, but the version of Mr. Westerhouse she saw today was authentic. The way he smiled, the kindness he had shown—it was chipping away at her excuses for keeping him at arm’s length. Just a few days ago, he was trying to buy her home; what on earth was she thinking smiling back? There was no room for him in her life beyond being her boss. Even a friendship would be stilted at best.

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