Page 5 of Bad Love

“Do you have a meeting in here?” I askRena.

She gives me a strange look. “Yes. And so do you.” The coffee freezes halfway to my lips. “Daisy sent an email twenty minutesago.”

I whip out my phone and scroll to my email. I try to keep things under control, but despite doing my best to organize, things happen in real-time aroundhere.

Rena shoves down my phone. “Don’t bother. All I know is Daisy wants us here, it’s a VIP client, and she’s running late and wants us to meethim.”

Since there’s nothing to prepare, I grab the spray bottle hanging discreetly on the hook under the table and go to spritz the green wall full of ferns andsucculents.

"You haven't asked me to go to goat yoga the last two weeks," Renanotes.

Despite having a busy life, I believe it’s important to carve out a tiny slice of time to myself. Even small investments in self-care mean we have more to contribute to those around us. In my case, my son and my colleagues. And in marketing, staying open and creative despite life’s challenges iskey.

That’s why I try to regularly cross activities off the sheet of paper with a mountain imprint and “My Adventures” written on it that lives tucked inside mynotebook.

Lately, I haven’t been crossing off much, thanks to my ever-growing load of clients, several of whom don’t understand why I can’t answer their emails at midnight or turn around concepts Sundaymorning.

"My advice?” Rena goes on before I can respond. “Forget the yoga and geocaching and salsa classes and focus on something important. Your to-do list should have one item:Kendall.”

I blush and snort at the same time, a kneejerk response I can’t control. Lots of women in their twenties might be up for casual sex, and power to them. That’s not me. Not only because I have a son who’s old enough to make his own French toast, but because being physically intimate with someone is not something I’ll takelightly.

Not thistime.

I’ve made my share of mistakes. The kind you can’t takeback.

I’m grateful for what I have. That includes a beautiful, healthy son, a challenging job that keeps a roof over our heads, and that at twenty-six, my hair’s still bright red instead of graying at the roots like my mom’s did at myage.

Am I lonely sometimes?Sure.

But that’s not a reason to throw myself at some smug, gorgeous New York guy who’s as careless as he is confident. Who’ll be gone as fast as he showed up—but not fast enough to avoid leaving a dent in my life orRory’s.

I bend to spritz the last of the plants—a little guy in the bottom corner that looks as though he hasn’t been watered inforever.

“I’m serious,” Rena goes on. “You need a man. Someone hot who’ll give it to you good enough you can forget your life for a few minutes. Big and strong and with scruff that gives you rug burn on yourthighs."

My body twitches at her description, but I shake my head. "No way. I’m not spreading my legs for some careless player, no matter how good-lookinghe—"

"Am Iinterrupting?"

The low voice has me whirling toward thedoor.

The man in the doorway looks like a hot lumberjack who decided to pledge a frat. He’s built broadly, with shoulders that could probably carry anything I’ve ever owned. His fitted T-shirt is somehow too small and the perfect size at once, hugging his muscled chest in that not-tacky way only expensive T-shirts can manage. Dark jeans worship his lean hips, his stronglegs.

His face is even better. The jaw under model scruff is square enough you could grate cheese on the edge. His light brown hair stands up as if some woman just finished running her fingers throughit.

His arms are tan. Hishands…

He has beautiful hands. Big and perfectlyshaped.

Eyes and smiles can lie, but hands? They tell you how a person interacts with theworld.

I'm sure the rear view is terrible because God wouldn’t have allowed any one person to have that muchattractiveness.

My gaze drags up to find knowing eyes the color of dark chocolate, as if he’s caught me checking him out. Or maybe he heard us talking about my lack of sexlife.

No. He can't have been standing there thatlong.

But there's no time to consider because on his heels is ourboss.

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