Page 61 of Crazy In Love
“And you got it.”
“I did,” she said as a long silence stretched between us.
“All right, well, I wanted to talk to you about your new business.”
“Okay. There’s not much to discuss, unless you’re calling to say my business cards need to be improved,” she said. “Or that I need to market more, which I can’t do at the moment because I spent a huge chunk of my savings on the first ad I ran in theRosewood River Review, which amounted to no clients.” She groaned.
“You paid for the ad in the newspaper that your family owns?”
“Yes, Bridger. The Taylors are all about tough love. So if you’re calling to give me advice on marketing, the well is dry. I don’t have a budget for it. That was probably not a wise way to start a business, but I didn’t expect it to be such a struggle to get clients.”
“You live in a small town, Emilia. You’re not in the city.” I reached for my beer and took a long pull.
“Did you seriously call to tell me what I already know? I’m more than aware that the failure rate is high. I know I don’t live in the city and that this is going to be a lot of work. But I have a plan, and I have to trust that. There are plenty of people that live in Rosewood River who need a designer. They just don’t know it yet.”
“Tell me your plan.” Why the fuck did I care what Emilia Taylor’s business plan was? She was right—the failure rate was much higher than the success rate, especially for someone running another business who had no capital.
“Why?”
“Emilia. I run a very successful business. Let me hear it, and I will give you free advice.”
She chuckled, and it sounded like she’d just taken a sip of something, and then I heard a glass clinking against a surface, so she’d obviously set it back down. “Free advice that I didn’t ask for.”
“All right. Your loss. Good night.”
“Don’t be a baby,” she chuckled. Had anyone ever spoken to me like this? “I was just kidding. I’ll tell you my plan.”
“The clock is ticking.”
She laughed once again, and I finished off my beer and leaned back against the couch. “My plan is to get my first client, and then advertise the photos all over my website. I’m hoping that local homeowners start updating their homes, and I’ve already met with a few contractors here and given them my business cards. I’m going to send mailers to out-of-town property owners who are buying up the homes here to rent out, and as a local designer, I can do the work on their properties without them even being here.”
“That’s not a bad plan. You can target homeowners here as well as the investors using their homes for rentals.”
“Yes. It’ll take time, but I’m willing to put in the work.”
“I see. And what about the flower shop?”
“I have a plan for that, too. I think Beatrice would be open to running it when the time comes, if we paid her well enough. And if my salary was removed, we could increase her pay to make it worth her while.”
“Now you’re thinking like a businesswoman.”
“Thank you,” she said. “And if you tell my parents my plan, I will intentionally crash my car into your driveway and hit more than one car next time.”
Interesting that she couldn’t share her plan with the people she was closest to.
“I’m not really the type of guy who gossips. I can barely tolerate basic conversation,” I admitted.
“Yet here you are chatting with me.”
“Here I am chatting with you, Emilia,” I said. “Which brings me to the reason I called.”
“I can’t wait to hear it,” she said with a laugh. “Are you planning new ways to torture me?”
“Possibly,” I said dryly. “I have a proposition for you.”
“I’m not sleeping with you, if that’s what the snow tires were about.” There was no humor in her voice.
“Well, I hadn’t even considered it, but once again, there you go with the filthy thoughts.” I had considered it. Many fucking times over the last few weeks.
