Kincaid clapped her hands together, a sunny look on her face. “What a fantastic morning. Rebecca’s baking a bun with the hot chef. And Taryn is playing hide the sausage with the hot trainer.”
“Girl,” Taryn said on a laugh. “You are relentless.”
“Am I supposed to apologize for that?” Kincaid asked. “I am invested in knowing what is making my friends so happy. Some would call that being an excellent friend.”
Taryn smirked. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with then. Yes. I spent the weekend at Sh…Lucas’s place. It…did not suck.”
All three of her friends grinned simultaneously. Three damn Cheshire cats.
“The whole weekend,” Liv teased. “Nice.”
“It was,” Taryn confirmed and looked to Kincaid. “Happy? Can we get to work now?”
Kincaid let out a little celebratory squee as they walked toward the doors. “Yes. I’m happy. My matchmaking streak continues!”
Liv gave her a look. “I met Finn in high school. You did not match us.”
“And I met Wes during a robbery,” Rebecca said. “You had nothing to do with that.”
“And technically, you didn’t even introduce me to Lucas. I met him the night before the zombie race,” Taryn pointed out.
Kincaid shrugged. “Details. I laid the foundation.”
Taryn shook her head with amusement as she fell into step beside Kincaid. “And who’s going to find a match for you, oh Wise One?”
Kincaid’s lip curled. “Sugar, there ain’t no match for me. I’m like really expensive, extra-potent liquor. Best in small doses.”
She said it like a joke, but Taryn caught the flash of truth in her friend’s eyes, and it took her aback when she realized Kincaid actually believed that. Despite her unending interest in the love lives of her friends, she didn’t have the same hope for herself? Best in small doses. Kincaid dated around and was a shameless flirt but never got involved in anything serious. Maybe this explained why. She thought she was too much for one guy long term.
Taryn reached out and squeezed her friend’s hand. “You’re worth getting drunk on, girlie. Don’t let anyone make you believe any different.”
Kincaid gave Taryn’s hand a squeeze back but didn’t say anything else, the signal clear. She wasn’t going to talk about it.
Once they got settled at the table and had their breakfast, all talk of their personal lives ended and they dove into the work. For the next few hours, the four of them went over the game plan for the fund-raiser. In between his sessions, Shaw helped them design a beginner-level course that would still be interesting to watch. Despite his initial protest about getting involved, he was engaged and seemed excited when they landed on the final course structure. Rivers joined in, too, offering his engineering expertise to shift around some of the components and sketch out the course.
“I think this is gonna work,” Taryn said finally, her eyes skimming over Rivers’s sketches. “I would’ve loved to do something like this when I was in high school. Plus, it should be fun for families and classmates to watch.” Her mind was clicking through all the possibilities and potential. “Hopefully, we get a lot of interest. We have an outside chance of hitting our funding goal in one day if we can do this right.”
“And the money will go to the school program?” Rivers asked, standing behind Kincaid’s chair. Somehow she’d talked him into rubbing her shoulders. The woman was a sorceress. Even gay men couldn’t resist a request.
“Not directly,” Taryn explained. “The program is going to require a lot of money. This event will give us the seed funds to create a video campaign that we can use to promote the cause and, hopefully, garner public support and attract big donors. We’ll make a short video that can easily be run as a commercial and shared on social media. We might even be able to get the documentary producer to include it with his film. We’ll also have a longer version for people who want to get more in-depth information about the program and why it’s important.”
“Yeah, we’ll need something catchy for the short one,” Rebecca said. “Attention spans are short these days. Maybe we could put a song in the background. Something people will remember. I can check on the legalities of doing that.”
“Or Taryn could sing something,” Shaw said from behind her. “She’s got an amazing voice.”
“What?” Taryn turned, shooting him a look. “No, that’s not…”
“No, that’s a great idea,” Kincaid said, leaning forward on her forearms, her business face on. “That would add a personal element to it. The only way people are going to give us money is if we effectively tug their heartstrings and make them feel something. Like what you said about dry statistics, Taryn. We need to put faces on the issue for people. A survivor singing a poignant song could be really memorable. We’d need to find the right song for you to cover.”
“Or she could write one,” Shaw suggested.
“Wait, you write songs, too?” Liv asked, turning her way. “That’s amazing. How did we not know this about you?”
“Because I don’t anymore,” Taryn said, her tone clipped. “I think we’re getting off track here…”
“But what if you tried?” Liv continued. “I mean, I know that’s a lot to ask, but it could be amazing.”
“My songwriting is not amazing. I haven’t done it since I was seventeen.”