Page 101 of Bad Love

The way he drags his sunglasses down his nose to look at me has me wondering if I’ve stepped into an alternate universe. If I haven’t, I should’ve worn something fancier than capri pants and a crisp white T-shirt I never wear when Rory’s around and cooking—and spills—could happen at anymoment.

My gaze roves the curvy lines of the car. "Tell me you borrowedthis."

"Don't make me lie to you, Peach." He flashes me a grin. “Kendall, this isMonty.”

There's another person in the car, and I’m momentarily thrown. The guy’s bigger than Logan, dressed in a button-down shirt, hair and beard trimmed, and sleeves rolled up to reveal tattoos that reach his wrists on bothsides.

The guy nods at me from the back seat, lifting his sunglasses to show sharp blue eyes. “Nice to meetyou.”

This is Logan’s bestfriend.

The one who runs Hunter’sCross.

“You too.” I smile, but I’m grounded in the uncomfortable reality that I'm about to spend time in Logan'sworld.

Maybe Logan knows it too, because after he helps me put my bag in the back with a quick kiss that steals my breath and I shift into the passenger seat, Logan opens with, "We need you to settlesomething."

"Okay."

"Marvel orDC?"

I blink. "Are you joking? Marvel.Avengers: Endgamewill stand the test oftime."

"Good. That was to prove you had soundjudgment."

I shake my head as the car peelsaway.

"The real test is this,” Logan says. “Master-created recipes or customer-created?"

I turn it over. "Customer. People love things they makethemselves."

"Thankyou."

I turn back toward the one who seems to have lost whatever argument I’ve settled. "Sorry,Monty."

"It's fine. Women always go withHunter."

"Smart people always go with Hunter,” Logan corrects, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “But I was thinking about our financials. The fruit beers have really exploded. We're up twenty percent last quarter on those. But that’s not the bigplay.

“Customers like experimentation, trying new things. They want to be satisfied. Their way. We should do personalbrews."

"You mean for weddings and shit? There are home breweries for that," Monty says. "Corner-store DIYshops."

"Yeah, but ours will come with insights from Freddy, the Einstein of the beer stein. We could have a contest to find one new recipe every year, judged by customers. They vote up the brews they want made,” Logan says without pausing forbreath.

"There's a scaling problem," Montyinterrupts.

"Not if we do it right. The unpopular ones fade fast. People get engaged with the best ones. They tell their friends. Hell, we could partner with restaurants. If your beer was available at a Michelin-star restaurant in Midtown, you'd shout it from therooftops."

Watching them go back and forth is like watching tennis, only the whiplash is between Logan and the rearviewmirror.

It's fascinating. I love seeing the conversation, being in the middle ofit.

"And how would we get our beer into Michelin-star restaurants?" Montydrawls.

"Working onit."

"That's what you were asking Rory about last week," I blurt, and the guys turn to me as if remembering I'm stillthere.

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