Chapter Two

"Can someone please explain this shit to me?" I shouted into the warehouse of employees. My company's offices resided in an old phone book factory. We ran a tight ship, for the most part, with the exception being everyone's personal workspace. I looked out from my standing desk and saw everyone's attention drawn to me immediately.

"Rip?" James came over in some kind of sprint/walk, his eyes wide. He stood shoulder to shoulder with me and scanned my screen. "Why are you yelling? You never raise your voice."

I didn't.

Guess I couldn't say that any longer.

"Look at this. My plans being sold on the big-chain-warehouse-online-marketplace thing as a DIY fantasy escape? Look at it, James. It's right next to plans for a chicken coop and a damned treehouse. There are five-gallon buckets as you scroll, for the love of the gods."

My assistant stepped back. "Ripley, you signed off on this. You wanted to make your plans and ideas available online for everyday people to turn their yards into oases. I watched you agree to this."

I reached up and slammed my laptop shut. "I know," I said, scrubbing my hand down my face. "I know. It just looks so…generic now. Maybe it's just me. Maybe I need a break."

"A break? I can cut some of your meetings and maybe have you come in late tomorrow afternoon?" He took out his tablet from where he had it nested in his armpit. "Yeah, I can scramble around a few things."

"Your hands are clean," I mentioned, ticking my chin toward him. Taking in the place once more, I realized all of us were in pants and slacks and shirts that belonged on the cover of a golf magazine or an HR poster for casual Fridays.

"My hands are clean. But it sounds like you have a problem with my hands being clean." He snickered a bit but, once his eyes met mine, that smirk was gone.

"Remember the beginning, James?" I asked and closed my eyes. I could almost feel the blaring sun on my skin, the dirt clogged underneath my fingernails, and the soreness of a hard day's work. Now I had meetings and headaches from staring at a screen too long and the feeling that the walls of this warehouse were caving in on me by the second.

"Of course I do. We started cutting yards when we were kids. It was me and you until I quit to go to college."

He had. I'd encouraged it. Now he was my assistant because he had the know-how and gave me no-bullshit advice on my projects.

"Remember our first real job?"

My best friend and assistant snorted. "You mean Grandma Betty's house? Oh my gods, the number of angels she requested was insane. But we did it and we did a good job." James called my grandmother Grandma since he never had one. She took him in as her own.

I missed her and her crazy angels.

"How did it come to this?" I asked and waved my hand around.

"What's going on with you, Rip? This is what you built."

I shook my head. The wheels in my head were turning, clicking and clanking, my thoughts falling into place. "I think it's time for a change, James. A big one. I can't remember the last time I had my hands in the soil or hell, the last time I even broke a sweat. I'm wearing these gray wool pants for the love of all. I'm not me anymore."

James sighed and put his tablet down. "How about a vacation. A long one. A leave of absence. Go to Japan. The Netherlands, Sweden, India. Somewhere to give you back your inspiration."

I shook my head. My decision had already been made. Sometimes in life, you simply wake up and know a radical shift is exactly the cure.

"James, I need more than a vacation, though I appreciate the thought." I let out a long sigh. "I'm going home, actually." I stared at my laptop, gauging whether or not to bring it along. I opted to bring it, in case I changed my mind but did so with a bit of attitude. When I started this company, I had been excited and proud of myself. Now, the desk, the computer, even this warehouse felt like nooses, always around my neck, always tugging me in a direction I didn't want to go any longer.

I needed to be outside again.

Not selling my designs online with immediate inbox delivery.

"You're scaring me, Ripley."

I nodded. "If we're not changing, we're not living, James," I replied and walked out of the office. I got several stares, but something inside me realized it might be the last time they would see me. And the last time I might see this warehouse.

The more I thought it over, the deeper the conviction burrowed.

I would give over the reins to James and get back to the dirt and after that, tackle the other gnawing issue in my life—finding a mate. My panther cried out for someone to belong to. Wolves didn't like to exist alone, but I hadn't had time to look for a mate. Hell, I'd only been on a handful of dates.

I had work to do now that I'd left my job. First call when I got home would be to my lawyer and my accountant.

This was the best decision I'd ever made.