Rescued (Navy SEALS Romance Book 1) by Rachel Hanna Read Free Book Online Page B

kids into the fantasy world of the game, taught them to use the new limb when they weren't concentrating on it and feeling frustrated or embarrassed.
    The company was a start up, depending on grants and donations, which made Taylor grind her teeth since the tech giant people called The Devil routinely made enough money to finance this entire project and pay the volunteers.
    Then again, perhaps the tech giant did good works elsewhere.
    Maybe Taylor could do some good works here.
    That led her to checking out volunteer opportunities in her community and drowning under the weight of them. Just about anything she might find herself interested in had some kind of component that lent itself to volunteerism. She could work with injured, abused, neglected, abandoned or sick children, and work with physical therapy, play therapy, horse therapy, cat, dog, pig, cow, cockatiel therapy. She could do arts, stage plays, teach singing (no, really she couldn't) and almost anything else she could dream of to help children who needed it. She could join community gardening projects and with her brown thumb, give the existing volunteers plenty to volunteer doing. There were enough choices out there.
    But she kept going back to the first one she'd seen when she wasn't even thinking about volunteering, just thinking she needed to find meaning in her life before something threatened that life again.
    The tech tie-in to physical therapy appealed. The others were good works no different than knowing nursing homes would love to have her read there and the food banks would always welcome donations, not just at Christmas.
    This, though. This combined what she'd trained in with something she had an interest in because her sister was a physical therapist. Not that she wanted to go play in her sister's sandbox, but at least it would be a miniature bridge should they ever want to communicate again. As sisters.
    She filed away the idea, finished living through her Sunday and went back to work at Boring World on Monday, running promptly into Jason.

    " S ome weekend ."
    "Your idea of a good time?" Taylor asked Jason. The break room was as low tech as the company was supposed to be high tech. Everything in it was worn, soft, tired and probably out of order. It was restful after all the screen time and client time in the rest of Boring World.
    "Yes, I'm planning not get caught in a tidal wave this coming weekend. Care to join?"
    Even as Taylor was smirking at him he said, "Is that politically incorrect?"
    "Only if there's been one recently, I think. Besides, when have you ever cared?"
    "True." He pounced into a chair, looking like a tan and sandy cat leaping to curl up, put his chin on his hand and said, "So! The pilot ."
    Taylor groaned. "Not going there," she singsonged.
    "I saw him kiss you." He looked like an imp, watching her, grinning.
    "Not talking about it."
    Jason cocked his head in the other direction. "Saw you kiss him back."
    Taylor was momentarily speechless. "Did not."
    A huge smile overtook Jason's face as her stutter proved him right. "So did," he said, and flitted out of the break room.

    D id I ?
    Doesn't matter. He didn't ask for anything. Not a phone number, not an email.
    …but you could. Twenty-first century and all.
    Don't even know how to reach him.
    Of course not. Because SEArch & Rescue isn't a clue. Or the beach-house-come-office.
    …shut up.

    " I 'm looking for some information on the volunteer program with tech and children." Taylor paced through her lunch hour, hovering behind Boring World, the slat-roofed gazebo picnic tables area employees never, ever used. Still didn't – she had privacy back here.
    "Ooh, good," said the girl's voice on the phone. "What can I tell you?"
    Good question. She'd called to find out more because she always did but other than when they wanted to schedule her and whether or not there was training involved, there wasn't anything else. So she asked those questions – was there training required? How