Page 20 of Bad Boy Husband

SADIE

T he last couple of days had been a complete blur. Jameson hadn’t come back to the townhouse or taken me out for dinner, texting that he’d gotten caught up in meetings and still had shit to take care of .

I didn’t know if my brother had been part of that shit or if Sterling being away had meant Jameson had become the head honcho, but for now, I couldn’t afford to focus on any of that. I was finally back at work.

Standing in the yard at the shelter, I glanced at Winkle, a seriously old Whippet who kept getting passed up for adoption. Worry gnawed at my gut.

Summer was flying by. Soon, the temperatures would start dropping again. It killed me that the old man was facing another cold winter in a kennel at the shelter. I sighed, glancing at the volunteers giggling around the reception desk.

They were mostly young college girls with a soft spot for puppies, and they rarely moved away from the playpens.

I was in the section of the garden that we used for our sickest, neediest dogs when they were outside to soak up some sunshine.

It was where I thrived, but not many of our volunteers ever came over here.

Apparently, it was too depressing. Part of me understood it.

The puppies racing around the playpens were adorable and I loved the kittens too, but dogs like the ugly, decrepit Winkle needed the most love.

I wished one of the volunteers would make a post about him, potentially helping us to find a forever home where he would be adored for the time he had left.

With that thought in mind, I scooped him up into my arms and went to stand beside Lisa. She was also watching our latest group of volunteers losing their absolute wits, giggling like tween-aged fangirls meeting their favorite boyband member.

“What’s going on with them?” I asked when I reached her, gently cradling the lazy old man to my chest. “What’s all the fuss about?”

Lisa inclined her chin toward the entrance, where Joan was helping Jameson sign in. My heart tripped over itself, stammering as my breath caught in my lungs. Oh right, nothing to see here. Just my would-be fiancé paying me a surprise visit.

I wasn’t surprised that they were reacting to him that way. Jameson was something of a local celebrity and, frankly, just a downright stunning man. The tabloids loved him and so did a certain, gossip-fueled sect of the public.

Joan finished signing him in and waved for him to follow her to the back kennels, where Lisa and I were standing. She looked confused as she frowned at the volunteers, but I sighed, waving them over and stepping out from around the corner where I’d been watching.

The volunteers were all googly-eyed about him, nudging each other and giggling even more as he passed them, but his eyes were firmly planted on me. Looking sharp, he wore fitted dark blue jeans with a black Henley, his sunglasses hooked into his collar.

His hair was as artfully tousled as always and that infuriating, yet undeniably sexy smirk was on his lips.

Jameson had a presence about him that never failed to impress me, but here, between the rundown walls of the shelter and under the stained ceiling, he somehow seemed larger than life.

Like an actual A-lister had just walked in here.

On the other hand, in this town, the bad boy Westwood heir was probably more famous than any actor. He kept smirking until he lowered his gaze to the animal in my arms.

“What the fuck is that?” he asked, blinking like he was mildly apprehensive before he seemed to notice Lisa for the first time. “Hi, I’m Jameson.”

“Lisa.” Her eyelashes fluttered and my usually unflappable friend and coworker seemed very much flapped as she held a trembling hand out toward him. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

I could practically see the stars in her eyes and I groaned, clearing my throat to draw his attention back to me before he made her faint with all the charm oozing out of him. “Is visiting me at work going to be a regular thing from now on?”

“Maybe. Why do you ask?”

I arched both my eyebrows at him. “I don’t know. Maybe because you’re distracting the volunteers more than a whole new litter of puppies. I might need some warning next time so I can plan to hose the place down after your visit. One more swoony sigh and someone’s going to trip over a cat carrier.”

Jameson’s mouth curved into a wicked, amused grin. “Jealous?”

“Of what? Your fan club?” I rolled my eyes. “Please. I get enough drool from Hooch. I just wasn’t planning on getting as much of it from the volunteers.”

He chuckled, hazel eyes sparkling like this was the best thing that had happened to him all day. “Fair point. That dog produces drool like it’s his job and he’s in line for a promotion.”

“ Our dog,” I reminded him sweetly.

He sighed. “Sure, but for the record, I only came here to see you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, glancing down at Winkle to hide the stupid grin threatening to break free on my face. “Tell that to them before they collectively swoon into the mop bucket.”

“Hey, at least that should bring them crashing back down to earth,” he teased, not immodest, just aware of the way people reacted to him. “On a more serious note, I came because I wanted to see what you actually do for a living. Do you have time for a tour?”

“Of course.” My heart did a weird, jumping leap type of thing. “Maybe I can convince you to make another donation.”

He laughed, but his eyes were already sweeping across the hallways and resting on some of the kennels. “It’s not impossible, actually. I’m already surprised, to say the least. It’s a lot bigger than I thought.”

“Yeah, and this is just the shelter,” I explained. “The clinic is next door, though we do have an entrance into it from the back.”

“That’s cool.” He followed me when I started walking, sticking close enough to my side to hear what I said about the place, but far enough away that I could tell he was really taking it all in. “You still haven’t told me what that thing is that you’re holding.”

I tightened my grip on poor old Winkle protectively. “It’s not a thing . It’s a dog. A Whippet. Sadly, he’s very old for his breed. Outlived his owner. She passed two years ago and he’s been at the shelter ever since, but unfortunately, he’s not thriving in this environment.”

Jameson didn’t comment, but when I glanced at him, he seemed to be waiting for me to continue, so I did. “He’s bowlegged, cross eyed, and a bit mangy. I’m treating the mange aspect, but the rest of it is just who he is. No one has even looked at him for adoption.”

“I bet.” He came up beside me and pointedly looked down at Winkle. “I’m honestly not even sure that’s really a dog.”

I laughed. “We’ve had much uglier here, but yep. That’s the problem. It’s highly unlikely someone is going to give him a home. His previous owner adored him, but not even her kids would take him in after she passed.”

“That’s surprisingly fucking sad.” Jameson raked a hand through his hair. The way he was looking at the place changed as I introduced him to more of the animals and told him their stories.

By the time we made it out to the yard again and I set Winkle down, Jameson didn’t even flinch when he got his first proper look at the old man. “What about Hooch? Did he come from the shelter too?”

“Yep. He’s purebred, but he was the runt of his litter.”

“No way.” Jameson scoffed down laughter. “There’s no way Hooch was the runt.”

“Trust me,” I said, barely holding back laughter of my own at the surprised, pinched look on his face. “He had four brothers, all of whom were at least a third larger than him.”

“What’s his history?” he asked, surprising me when he moved over to my favorite bench in the old-timers’ part of the yard and sat down like he was totally happy to be here. “I’m assuming he’s got a tragic story as well?”

“The worst.” I raked my fingers through my ponytail and sat down beside him, swallowing past the bitter lump in my throat that still appeared at the mere thought of what Hooch and his brothers had gone through.

“Hooch was born into a human family who bred dogs for fighting. They lived a couple hours outside the city on a farm or something. I don’t even know how long it went on before the ring was finally busted, but a few of the animals ended up here. ”

“Fuck.”

“Yep.” I sighed and looked out at our neediest residents, all of them either way past their prime or sick and weak.

They were all shapes, sizes, and colors, yet they all had one thing in common—they needed a heck of a lot of love.

“It was awful. Hooch was brought here with the rest of his litter. As the runt, he’d gotten pretty beat up.

He was also really sick, so I said I’d foster him to give him the extra care he needed.

One thing led to another and we fell in love, I guess. ”

Jameson nodded slowly, completely silent. He scanned the yard for a long moment. “Wow. I’m not surprised you took him in. I’m pretty sure I would’ve done the same thing myself in that situation.”

“You think?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. The only thing that really surprises me is that you only have one dog. With all these stories, I would have bet on you bringing home another one every other week.”

I smiled. “I would if I could, but I didn’t have enough space for more than one. Until now.”

His eyes widened like he regretted asking the question.

Then he changed the topic by pulling a file out of the bag that had been slung around his body.

“This is a copy of our prenup. I took the liberty of having the lawyers draw up a draft. If there’s anything you’re not happy with, just say the word and I’ll have it changed. ”

He paused for a beat, a flash of vulnerability in those eyes before he added, “Everything in there is only my opening offer. I think it’s solid. Fair. But if you don’t agree, I’m open to negotiation.”

I stared back at him, wondering what he was talking about.

An opening offer wasn’t what I’d been expecting.

In fact, I hadn’t been expecting anything at all.

I was getting five million dollars from my GamGam’s estate.

That had been the whole point of agreeing to this arrangement. Not whatever he was offering.

“Just look it over?” he suggested quietly, obviously misunderstanding my silence. “I’m serious. If you don’t agree, we’ll talk. I want this to be totally fair.”

Swallowing hard, I nodded and flipped open the folder. My jaw nearly snapped off when I read through the draft. Just for marrying him, he was awarding me full access to his accounts, but that wasn’t nearly everything.

He was also setting me up with a high-yield investment account worth five million to match my inheritance, bringing me up to ten million in total. For every year we were married, he was also going to be adding the numerical value of the number of years we’d made it to my account.

That meant I would be getting one million for the first year, two million for the second, and so on. Nerves and disbelief swept through me, both of them equally as strong as the other.

As for what happened if we split up, well, the terms he was offering would take care of me for life, but it was what was already in motion that made my heart quake. Just for signing on the dotted line, my foundation would receive a million dollars.

The very same foundation that still serviced this shelter and was its main donor. For at least the last year, I’d been more stressed about what would happen to this place once my money ran out than I had been about myself.

“Why?” I looked over at him, finding him watching me intently with a mixture of hope and worry in his eyes. “Why would you promise anything at all to the foundation when you don’t even owe anything to me ?”

“I understand what it’s like to have passions people don’t understand,” he said. “At least yours is meaningful.”

My brow furrowed. “What’s your passion?”

I hadn’t thought Jameson Westwood had the necessary blood vessels in his face to allow him to blush, but he turned beet red as he shook his head. “Yeah, I’m not telling you that.”

“What?” Laughter rang out of me and I leaned closer as I watched his jaw clench. “You can’t be serious. What is it?”

“Nope.”

I sighed. “Fine. It’s not like I don’t have the rest of my life to try to drag it out of you.

If you agree, that is. I have exactly nineteen dollars to offer you in exchange for all of this.

I’m bringing literally nothing to the table until I get my inheritance, and even that doesn’t seem like much compared to what you’re offering. ”

He shrugged. “I saw a food truck down the street. Buy me tacos for dinner and we’ll call it even.”

With Winkle curling into a ball at my feet, I held his gaze and my pulse spiked. “Are you sure you really want to do this?”

“Yeah, we should,” he said without hesitating for so much as a second. “It’s the easy way out for both of us, Sades. I know it’s not ideal, but it sure beats the alternative.”

It didn’t feel like the easy way out to me, especially not when his gaze slipped from my eyes to my lips and back again, but I took the pen and signed my name.

Just like that, I was officially engaged to be married to Jameson Westwood.

Signed, sealed, and, as I handed the paperwork back over, delivered. God help me, I’m going to be Mrs. Westwood soon. How freaking crazy is that?