A lot of the questions in the middle section were about past projects, gathering information on the company’s breadth and length of experience. Then it got serious with the essay questions, and so had Sierra.

He leaned back in his chair to read while she worked on something on her laptop. Most of the questions were about problems and challenges and how they’d overcome them, with some asking for details on successful renovations as well. She’d exceeded the space given for multiple questions, her precise, left-tilting, scripty print spilling onto the backs of the pages.

“Your content is spot-on,” he said a good twenty minutes later after reading every word.

“Thanks,” Sierra said, sitting up and closing her laptop to give him her full attention. “It sounds like there’s a but.”

“Is there a word limit? Either stated or constrained by the online form?”

“Not stated. I didn’t check the form for limitations. You think I rambled too much?”

“I wouldn’t call it rambling.” He blew out a breath, considering how to say what he wanted to say. “What you wrote is straightforward. The details are good. They show you know your stuff.”

“But? Cole, just say what you’re thinking. You’re not going to hurt my feelings.”

“What’s missing is the marketing.”

Her brows dipped. “It’s not supposed to be marketing. Just facts.”

“Marketing is facts presented in a different way,” he said. “You know this.”

Though she’d hired Kennedy, who freelanced as a marketing consultant in addition to being part owner of Sugar Babies bakery on Hale Street, Sierra was still closely involved in all the promotional work. Kennedy helped her set budgets and choose which media to focus her time and money on and guided her in overall branding, but the nitty-gritty of the content still fell on Sierra, who regularly garnered input from Cole. It was a team effort, and they were the experts on their business, something that Kennedy wasn’t.

Cole had zero formal training in marketing, but he’d read books on it from the first time Sierra had asked for his assistance. That’s how he operated—need to know something? Read a book. There was always a book out there that could teach you what you needed to learn, and he was a fan of knowing what he talked about, whatever the topic.

“It’s an application, not an ad,” Sierra said, running her hands over her face, which told him she was trying to understand his point instead of arguing outright.

“You can present the facts while highlighting your strengths. You want to win, right?”

“You know the answer to that.” Her voice teemed with frustration.

“Let me take this home. I’ll take a stab at it.”

“You want to rewrite them?”