Page 82 of Bad Love

Kendall’s brows draw together. “Okay. We’ll figure this out ourselves. Let’s go over these budgetcategories."

Her confidence is contagious, and I’m grateful as she motions me over. I set up shop next to her, our hips brushing, my bare side touching herarm.

“Um.Logan?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you could put a shirton?”

I turn toward her, thrilled to see the flush crawling up her throat. “Your ‘professional’ thoughts getting in theway?”

“Do you want to bankrupt yourbrewery?”

I pad to my bedroom, letting out a noise of protest on the way. “Thatwas a groan,” I toss over myshoulder.

When I’m back in a tight, white T-shirt—I didn’t want to let her completely off the hook—we go over some more numbers, and I ask herquestions.

“The numbers don’t have to drive everything. But they should be part of the same story as your products and your marketing strategy. I like to start with the ideas, then back in the numbers afterward. Run a sensitivity analysis, which sounds complicated, but it’s really just a few different scenarios to see what’s possible with a limited budget or a bigger one. Like you might have if sales start slow versus grow fast. Or in your case, if your marginschange.”

“Makessense.”

I like starting with the ideas because staring at these numbers does to my creativity what a photo of Margaret Thatcher does to my hard-on.

"You need something for your ideas." She fishes in her bag and produces a notebook that says “YOU CAN DO ANYTHING” on thefront.

I take it, turn it over to look at the blue cover with a ribbon of gold running through it. "Forme?"

"Yes. For all your great ideas. Of which I know from experience you havemany."

I grin, my heart kicking in a way that’s way out of line given the ten-dollar notebook she’s handed me. "I do have some ideas, but they’re half-baked. I'll keep youposted."

Her brows shoot up. "Has anyone told you you're atease?"

"Has anyone told you you’re thebest?”

Her face flushes with pleasure. "Lately it doesn't feel like it. I've been trying to sell tickets for this talent show, and I’m barely halfway there. Nadine wants me to move two hundred, so I’ve been emailing like crazy, plus finding new parent groups I can reach out to. The thing is there aren’t that manyparents.”

"So, tell her to fuckoff."

Kendall rolls her eyes. "Her head wouldexplode."

"Collateraldamage."

"In what? My war on perfectmoms?"

"Your quest for personalawesomeness."

Her smile hits me squarely in the chest. “I can’t. I know it’s prideful, but I need to winthis.”

I turn that over. “Prideful. That’s not a word you hear thatoften.”

“Pride’s asin.”

“So are a lot of things, if you believe all that. Lust’s another. How’d you square withthat?”

“My faith is more fluid than that. I believe in God. But I also believe in the principles more than the words. I don’t need to read scripture every week to find myself—or to find Him. I try to be the kind of person I want to be. And on the days I’m not, I think about how I can bebetter.”

That makes so much damn sense I envy her. Another sin, I guess, but I’ve stopped counting or caring. “What can I do tohelp?”

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