Chapter Sixteen #2
It had been almost a week since she’d seen or spoken to him, and she was losing her mind.
She missed him, and no amount of yoga classes or silent pep talks could ease the yearning.
She couldn’t stop thinking about how quiet everyone other than Dare had been in the meeting with her parents the day Crew had first shown up on the ranch.
Dare’s ire had come out with fangs and claws.
She knew how hard it must be for Crew to face them on a daily basis, and she hated knowing he had nobody on his side when he was trying so hard to do the right thing.
“Any questions so far, or can we move on to contracts?” Carly asked, jerking Birdie from her thoughts.
Shoot. She had no idea what she’d missed, but they’d set aside a couple of hours most days to work together, so she’d get there. “No. I think we can move on.”
An hour later, as Carly went into the intricacies of negotiating contracts with vendors, Birdie’s thoughts were still ping-ponging between Crew and accounting, which, oddly enough, was stirring her creative juices.
She’d already come up with an idea for Emotional Write-Off Bonbons for people who are pining for what they can’t have, with cute names for the bonbons like Unreciprocated Assets, Deferred Desires, and Emotional Overdraft.
“Remember,” Carly said, “when you’re negotiating contracts, especially for larger orders and new vendors, you want to think about terms. Net thirty days is standard, but if you’re able to pay net ten, you’ll get a better discount. Two percent is the usual discount, and that two percent adds up.”
Birdie nodded, the motion now automatic as she jotted down, Terms: Net 10 if we can pay fast, 2%. Her handwriting was getting messier as her attention frayed.
“And this is one of the most important things you’ll need to remember in order to keep the shop afloat,” Carly said, oblivious to Birdie’s plight.
“Profit and cash are not the same thing. You can’t look at the money in the bank or the revenue line on the ledger and think you’re good and go out and spend a bunch of money. ”
“I absolutely will not make that mistake,” Birdie said, as she wrote, Cash vs profit!! Keeping that promise would be easy. She never used the company money for anything.
Quinn came through the doors. “Hi.” Her gaze flicked to Birdie’s notes, and she arched a brow, looking like a sexy schoolteacher in an ivory blouse and short black skirt, with her hair twisted up in a knot and her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. “Need a lifeline?”
“No. I think I’m okay,” Birdie said, having no idea why it was so important that they thought she could handle this on her own, when they both knew finance was like a foreign language to her.
“Really? You’re keeping up?” Quinn asked with surprise.
“Trying,” she said honestly.
“Wow, that’s great,” Quinn said. “I’m happy to help if you run into trouble.”
“Thanks,” Birdie called after her as she headed back into the shop. She returned her attention to the screen, only for her thoughts to drift back to Friday night and how tightly Crew had held her as they’d said goodbye, like he didn’t want to leave as much as she hadn’t wanted him to.
She heard the bells chime over the doors of the shop, and Zev’s voice rang out. Carly must have heard it, too, because she looked up, her face brightening seconds before he pushed through the doors. Zev was shaggy haired, scruffy jawed, and grinning like Carly was the best treasure he’d ever found.
“There’s my gorgeous wife and her fellow girl boss.” He crossed the kitchen in three long strides.
“You’re early,” Carly said.
“Couldn’t help myself.” Zev slid an arm around her waist and leaned in for a kiss.
Seeing them now, it was hard to believe they’d spent a decade apart after tragically losing one of their best friends. They’d fought hard to find a future together, and Birdie was happy for them. She’d give anything to be able to have that open, unquestioned affection with Crew.
“How’s it going, Bird?” Zev asked. “Ready to conquer the world?”
“She’s doing great,” Carly chimed in.
“She’s lying,” Birdie said. “I’m nodding my way to financial ruin.”
Carly nudged her. “You are not. You’re doing fine.”
“Not really, but I’ll get there,” Birdie said more confidently than she felt.
“Zevy, we need another half hour or so,” Carly said.
“No, we don’t,” Birdie exclaimed. “You have plenty of time to beat this stuff into my noggin before you take off for the sunny Caribbean.”
“Are you sure?” Zev asked.
“Definitely,” Birdie said. “Get her out of here before my head explodes and numbers pop out all over the kitchen.”
Carly laughed. “Okay. We’ll pick this back up tomorrow.”
“Great. Can’t wait,” Birdie said as convincingly as she could.
After they left, Birdie tucked her notebook into her bag, wishing she could see Crew.
She couldn’t even talk to Quinn or Carly about it.
She hadn’t told them she’d gotten together with him again or that she’d barely thought of anything but him since.
She didn’t want to be told she was doing the wrong thing.
She felt guilty enough on her own.
Loyalty had been drilled into her for as long as she could remember, the same way believing everyone deserves a second chance had.
She wanted to be loyal to Dare and Billie, but now that she’d gotten to know Crew and understood everything that had led up to the accident, there was no doubt in her mind that he deserved the second chance her parents were giving him.
Just as he deserved the loyalty her heart had already handed over.
She was in an impossible position, and she knew from the tone of Crew’s voice Friday night when they were lying in bed, and again when they’d finally said good night, that it was just as hard for him.
This was the suckiest position she’d ever been in, and she was sick of thinking about how much she hated not seeing him and even more tired of trying to trick herself into believing she didn’t want to.
Quinn was closing tonight, and Birdie had planned to take an extra yoga class, but that wasn’t set in stone. It was just a drop-in class to keep her mind off Crew. Maybe it was time she stopped by the ranch for dinner.
She grabbed her coat, toying with the idea as she put it on, her pulse quickening.
It’s only dinner. It’s not like I’ll walk in and kiss him, no matter how much I want to. That would just make things worse for him around my family.
I’ll just stare at him like a middle schooler with a crush, silently pining for my Viking.
That sounded a little pathetic, but she didn’t care. It was no less pathetic than futilely spending her time trying to ignore the fact that she wanted to see him.
Woman up, Whiskey. You’re not being pathetic. You’re being proactive.
Even if covertly.
She grabbed her jacket and bag, heading out before she could change her mind.