The Dating Intervention: Book 1 in the Intervention Series (20 page)

“Make Josie’s next one a double, would you, please?” she asked sweetly.
 

“Sure thing, D,” he said, and his black cowboy hat bobbed.
 

“How’s your sister?”
 

“She’s good, thanks. Excited to graduate in a couple of months. Applying to college. You know, the usual. Doesn’t want to end up bartending ’til she’s thirty. Oops. Sorry, D. I wasn’t referring to you.”
 

But it was true. Delaney Collins, professional bartender, apparently couldn’t get a real job to save her life. She really had gotten stuck working at Rowdy’s ’til she was thirty (a few years past that, but who was counting?). When she came out of the restroom, she said to Benjamin, “You know, I’m going to switch to vodka cran, like Josie. Make mine a double, too.”
 

***

It was a good thing The Teeter Totter wasn’t their normal hangout, Delaney thought as she carried their drinks to the booth they’d snagged in the back of the sweltering bar. It was dark, loud and sweaty. Multi-colored lights flashed continuously. If those things weren’t enough to put a person into overwhelm, the place was constantly packed with college kids celebrating the weekend, starting Thursday night and finishing strong Sunday night. As it went in college, the girls wore tight, ripped jeans with swatches of fabric for tops and the guys ogled them unapologetically. If Delaney and her friends met here every week, they’d probably die from overstimulation. The regulars were just starting to flow in and Delaney could feel the hormones radiating off them.

“Ready to dance, Josie?”

“Oh, yeah.”
 

Throbbing music pulsed down deep into Delaney’s bones. She drained her drink.
 

“Let’s do this.”
 

The three of them, hands linked, made their way to the dance floor. They weaved through the mass of gyrating bodies until they reached the center and threw their arms in the air.
 

It wasn’t until the next morning, when the ping of Delaney’s phone broke through the sleepy fog and hammered at her piercing headache that Delaney realized she’d had too much to drink.
 

Way too much to drink.

The Friday morning light scorched Delaney’s dry eyes. Her phone chirped again, the sound so loud she cringed. What time was it? She had no idea, but she knew it was earlier than her usual wake-up time. Lying on her back, she read her new messages.
 

Summer:
What were you up to last night?
 

Josie:
We’ve been on your FindLove profile.
 

Uh oh.
Delaney rolled over and propped herself up on her elbows. She responded:
What are you talking about?
 

Summer:
Log on.

Josie:
Why can’t you just follow directions?

Summer:
Are we not being clear? Do you understand that you’re not supposed to do anything without our permission? That includes going onto your profile and berating people, seducing people, and winking at people. Or nudging them. Or whatever it’s called.

What had she done? The clock on her nightstand showed it was eleven, quite a bit later than she’d thought. Delaney staggered, nearly tripping over Pixie. The coffeepot had turned itself off a while ago, so she heated a cup of coffee in the microwave and turned on her computer.
 

“Shit,” she muttered when she saw all the activity on her FindLove.com profile page.
 

Apparently she’d given Jesse the Rancher a piece of her mind about the bloody hog talk during lunch. She’d laid into the Craig the Kindergarten Teacher about the club and balls jokes. Mitchell, the waiter, had heard all about how romantic she thought it was that he’d taken her up to the water tower. And the message she’d written to Jake … she read only the first few words (“You are so dreamy!”) before clicking out of it. She was mortified to see that none of them had responded. She considered writing fresh messages, notes of apology.

But as the coffee started to hit her veins, she remembered she had an interview at noon.
 

“Shit,” she muttered again. “Shit.”
 

She quickly texted the girls:
I have an interview at noon. Talk later. Remember, you love me. Wasn’t that Rule 8?
 

No response.
 

***

At exactly noon, Delaney swung her car into the parking lot of the Double R Veterinary Clinic. The tires screeched as she turned into a spot, and she jumped out even as she was putting it in park. The heel of her boot snapped off as she slammed her door.
 

“Great.”
 

Should she try to make it look like both her boots still had heels? Or should she limp in? She tried the former first, and thought she did a pretty good job, until the receptionist asked, “Are you okay?”
 

“My heel broke off.” She held it up as if to explain, then shrugged. Then she wondered why she hadn’t left it in the car.

She and the receptionist grimaced at each other and the girl looked sympathetic. Glancing at the clock behind the receptionist’s head, Delaney noticed it was a minute after noon.
 

“Oh, you’re fine,” the girl said. “Delaney, right? Doctor Rick’s running a bit behind. She’ll just be a minute.”
 

Instead of the usual pet prescription posters showing bloodsucking parasites and dogs’ internal organs, paintings of horses warmed the waiting room walls. Instinct would have had Delaney strolling around the room, scoping things out, but the broken heel made her plant herself on the wooden bench.
 

Because she had time, she did a quick check: her dark jeans were clean, her sweater was buttoned, and her hair (still wet and in a bun) seemed to be in place.
 

The door behind the receptionist’s desk opened and a tall, slender woman with a long blond braid and hazel eyes poked her head out.
 

“Ms. Collins? Sorry I’m a bit late. Come on back. Mind if I eat while we talk?”
 

They sat at a small dining table in the break room. Doctor Rick pulled a salad and a root beer out of the mini fridge. Delaney saw, with some disdain, that her resume sat on the table, too. The “current employment” section was highlighted.
 

Shit.

“So, you’re working over at Rowdy’s, huh?”
 

“Yes.”
 

Why did she have to start with that?
 

Delaney was tempted to add something like, “But it’s only temporary,” or, “I did finish vet school,” but for once, she waited for the next question.

“What do I order? What’s my signature drink?” Doctor Rick asked, her mouth full of salad.
 

Delaney glanced around the room. More horse paintings, sturdy wooden furniture, everything neat and tidy. She checked the doctor’s shoes. Expensive, but well-worn boots.
 

“Newcastle. On tap if they have it. Otherwise, in a bottle with a cold glass.”
 

“You’re good.”
 

“Yeah. I am. It’s sort of like a specialty.”
 

Doctor Rick wiped her mouth with a napkin.
 

“Why aren’t you a vet?”
 

“I don’t know. I guess I just wasn’t ready to commit when I graduated.”
 

“Are you ready now?”
 

“Yeah,” Delaney said. “Yeah, I am.”
 

“Okay. Well, Ms. Collins, I’ll give you a call.”
 

***

It was worse than she’d anticipated. Not only were Josie and Summer not speaking to her (or texting with her, or anything else), but Delaney had also effectively ended things (not nicely) with Jesse the Rancher and Craig the Kindergarten teacher, and made a fool of herself with both Mitchell and Jake.
 

She wanted to feel hopeful about that last job interview. Instead, she felt the now-familiar sense of dread in her stomach. She sat in front of the computer, her alternately scathing and desperate words black on the screen like a fly on a clean window. She could see them but try as she might, she couldn’t get them to disappear.
 

Jesse had been so nice, so well-mannered. Why did she have to say anything at all to him? She could have just let it go. But no. She’d ranted:
especially while I was eating a ham (also known as pig) sandwich and trying to avert my eyes from the drops of fresh pig blood on your boots. Have a little sensitivity!
Apparently, she tried to soften the blow by complimenting his manners:
Thank you for showing me that great manners still exist, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to see you again. I’m not cut out to be a rancher’s wife.
As if he’d even want to see
her
again.
 

Her comments to Craig had been even more scathing. Obviously she told him he acted juvenile,
like a sixth grader who just discovered what his parts are for and can’t wait to use them
, and she wasn’t interested in spending any more time with his balls and club, period.
It doesn’t make it any better that you apologized and said you were nervous. I was nervous too. Nervous that I’d run into someone I know, and they’d think I was actually enjoying your stupid sense of humor
.
 

To Mitchell, she’d written,
maybe on our next date we can spend a little longer on top of the water tower. ;)
 

Naturally, in the long, flowery, poetic message to Jake, she told him,
From the moment I first saw you, I wanted to take off your shirt and run my hands over the muscles in your back while kissing you passionately.
 

“Oh, God,” she moaned. “Who talks like that?”
 

Reading through her outgoing messages was bad enough. It would only get worse when she read their responses. Knowing she had to face the fire at some point, she bolstered herself and started with Craig. She didn’t want to see him again, anyway.
 

It’s fine. You’re an uptight, prissy, washed up bartender, and I’m sure I can find someone who appreciates me just the way I am
.
 

Says who?
Delaney thought, even as the first part of his message burned and she was tempted to text Summer, Josie and her mom to ask if they thought she was uptight and prissy, too.
 

Jesse’s message:
I’m sorry for having offended you, Miss Delaney. I should have known it was bad manners to discuss a butcher on a first date. But you’re right – I don’t think we’re quite right for each other. I wish you luck.
 

That wasn’t so bad. In fact, he was so imperturbable that she felt even worse about last night’s message.
 

Mitchell hadn’t responded at all. Delaney felt foolish. He was thinking one of two things, if she had to guess: one, that she was an insane, horny, forward hussy, or two, that he was getting in her pants the next time they saw each other. Or both. That was always a possibility.

Then there was Jake. She saw the first two words of his message:
Wow, Delaney
, but couldn’t bring herself to open it right away. Out of all of them, he had the most potential. It would be just like her to go and mess it up before they even got started.
 

Her finger hovered over the button of her mouse for a long moment before she finally clicked.

Well, since we didn’t quite get to that
, Jake wrote in response to her smut,
I’m hoping we can go there the next time, although I didn’t originally peg you as a girl who’d get down and dirty on the first couple of dates. I’m excited to hear that I may have been wrong about you. From the first moment I saw you, I wanted to … oh, never mind. I’ll just show you. Did I see you coming out of the Teeter Totter last night?
 

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”
 

She couldn’t decide whether to be over-the-top excited about Jake’s response, or put off by his excitement over her being a girl who’d get down and dirty on the first couple of dates.
Don’t lie to yourself, Collins. You’re excited. Really excited.

Should she respond to any of them? Probably not. Best to let sleeping dogs lie.
 

Her cell phone pinged.
 

Summer:
How’d your interview go?
 

Delaney:
Good. I got it.

Summer:
You got the job?
 

Delaney:
No, I got the message that I should stay off the computer. The vet said she’ll call me.
 

Summer:
Good. I’ll tell Josie. Now do us all a favor and stay off the damn computer.
 

That was it. Not sure what to do with herself, she decided to mope for a while. She sat on the couch and picked up a magazine. Pixie wandered in, jumped onto her lap.

“At least
you
still love me,” Delaney said.
 

The cat meowed, jumped down.

“Or you’re just hungry.”
 

As she fed Pixie, she thought about Summer and Josie. What right did they have to be mad at her? She didn’t have to like every guy they chose for her, did she? She shouldn’t have to endure an hour’s worth of conversation about hog butchering, or an entire mini golf course’s worth of middle school jokes, should she?
 

No, not at all.
Summer and Josie could be mad at her if they wanted to, but she was holding her ground on this one.
 

A tiny voice from somewhere in the far recesses of her reasonable mind whispered that she was only rationalizing because she felt guilty for being so mean to Jesse and Craig, and stupid for drooling all over Mitchell and Jake. She told it to shut up.
 

***

Delaney spent the rest of her Friday sulking, accompanied by a box of chocolates and her all-time favorite movie, “Bridget Jones’ Diary.” At work, she sneaked swigs from the wine bottles when no one was looking.