The Dating Intervention: Book 1 in the Intervention Series Page 6

  Pixie jumped onto Delaney’s lap and curled up. For a few moments, Delaney browsed the job listings in and around Juniper. Veterinary assistant, landscaper, laboratory technician … then she realized the search was premature, since she couldn’t apply to any of them without a resume. Fortunately, the website had tons of resources dedicated to helping her create one.

  Instead of listing your jobs and education, list your accomplishments, one page suggested. For example, ‘Landed a $400,000 marketing contract,’ or ‘Completed a $100,000 project under budget.’

  “Ha!” Delaney said to the computer. “Mixed four hundred thousand drinks in one night after the annual rodeo dance.”

  She picked up the phone. This wasn’t looking good, but Summer would know what to do.

  “You’re never up this early,” Summer said when she finally answered. “Everything okay?” Before Delaney could respond, Summer yelled, “Luke! Put that sword down and get a shirt on! Then find some clean underwear.” She spoke into the phone again. “Sorry. Getting ready to go to the Farmer’s Market.”

  “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have bothered you this early. Want to call me back?”

  “I’ll call you back after I load the kids in the car, but is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. It’s just this job hunt thing. It’s lame.”

  “You’re sitting on the computer right now, aren’t you? Hold on.” Again, she spoke loudly, away from the phone: “Sarah. You have three minutes to finish your hair.” She returned. “Sorry. Every morning, D. She’s not even a pre-teen yet and she has to style her hair every single morning. No ponytails for this girl.”

  “Is she too old for a sticker chart?” Delaney asked.

  “Ha. Yes. Was I like that?”

  “No. You are a free spirit,” Delaney said. “I can’t remember a time when your style was anything other than long, beautiful blond hair parted down the middle. Or the famous ponytail.”

  “Anyway, sorry,” Summer said. “You need to put on something professional and go pound the pavement. Go to some places, ask if they’re hiring, pick up an application.”

  “If they were hiring, wouldn’t they post it on this website?”

  “No, not always. Hold on.”

  Summer covered the mouthpiece of her phone, and Delaney heard muffled shouting.

  “Sorry. Now Luke is walking around in a shirt, socks and shoes – nothing else – claiming he’s going to town naked from the waist down. We have to load the car in three minutes.”

  Delaney couldn’t imagine having to wrangle all those kids, every single day. She could barely get herself ready in the morning. Just thinking about getting four kids ready made her want to commit to lifelong abstinence. Well, not really.

  “Don’t you have a suit?” Summer’s voice cut into her thoughts. “You bought that suit when you were job hunting before, right?”

  “It’s ten years old. It’s ugly. And it’s in the garbage.”

  “Oh. You could wear pants and a nice sweater. Spend today working on your resume, then. And buy some nice paper to print it on. I gotta go. I don’t think Luke has any clean underwear, actually. He might really be going commando today.”

  Crap. Delaney didn’t have a suit, she didn’t have a resume and she didn’t have a printer.

  “I guess it’s time to go shopping,” she said.

  Her phone chirped. It was a text from Summer.

  A suit in the garbage is not an excuse to go shopping. Don’t procrastinate. Work on your resume.

  “How did she know?”

  ***

  It was her first transgression, Delaney thought, but it probably wouldn’t be her last. She was supposed to follow all directions issued by Summer and Josie. But if they wanted her to find a new job, she needed a suit. If they wanted her to print a resume, she needed a printer. Yes, she admitted to herself, she could have spent the morning working on her resume on the computer. But what fun was that? A little retail therapy never hurt anyone. Josie would definitely agree.

  Manic. It was the only word to describe the shopping trip.

  Delaney started at Juniper’s only department store, where Candi, a gray-haired, pink-lipsticked older woman who dotted the i on her nametag with a heart, helped her choose a new suit. Gray with white pinstripes.

  “You know, honey, this is almost exactly like the suit I bought when I started my first job, as the receptionist at a bowling alley. It was 1976.”

  Great. Perfect.

  They moved on to shoes after that (Candi pressed for bright pink patent leather heels but Delaney chose black). Candi decided the outfit wouldn’t be complete without a string of pearls.

  “Good luck with your interviews, honey,” Candi said as Delaney took her bag. “I can just see the potential inside of you! Let me give you a hug!”

  Surprisingly touched by the gesture, Delaney felt tears spring to her eyes as she inhaled Candi’s floral perfume and hugged her back.

  Now, iced tea in hand, she headed to the office supply store. Why stop at a printer and resume paper? I need to be prepared.

  If she was going to get a job, she had to let the Universe know she really wanted one. She had to act like a professional. She had to feel like a professional. She had to be a professional. At least, that’s what Summer would say. She filled her basket with everything she thought she’d need for the job hunt: bright yellow paper clips in fun shapes, a new pencil holder for her desk, colorful stacking file holders and new pens.

  Fully stocked for resume writing and job-hunting, Delaney headed to the grocery store. She spent a long time perusing the frozen foods aisle in search of something that would look homemade for tonight’s dinner but she came up empty. The girls would know.

  Lemon chicken. She could make that, no problem. She’d show Summer and Josie she knew how to cook. It had been a while, but she managed to find the chicken, breadcrumbs, lemons and butter in a half hour. She grabbed some asparagus for a side dish and started feeling a bit smug. What else? Mashed potatoes. The kids would love mashed potatoes.

  Throughout the day, she found herself glancing over her shoulder looking for any sign of Jake Rhoades, his light blue t-shirt or his muscled legs in those jeans. She hoped desperately that she’d get another chance to see him. As she finally headed home, she couldn’t shake a vague feeling of disappointment that she hadn’t.

  She spent the rest of the afternoon getting everything set up and when she was done, she stood back to admire her work.

  “Looks good, right, Pix?”

  The cat, obviously onto Delaney’s real goal – procrastination – stalked out of the room, her tail swishing behind her. Just after four, a knock sounded at her door.

  “Let’s see what you bought today,” Josie shouted from the other side. “Summer tells me you went shopping.”

  Delaney rolled her eyes and opened the door. Josie’s eyes widened when she saw Delaney’s desk.

  “I needed a few things.”

  “Oh my God, you redecorated your entire office area. This does not look like job hunting.”

  “Retail therapy?” When Josie only shook her head, Delaney quickly added, “I have to be prepared. I need a good environment from which to hunt.”

  “Congratulations. Great job. But I don’t think anyone in town is hiring a professional procrastinator.”

  “Are you mad? Seriously? But look at it. It’s beautiful!”

  Josie took in the matching purple stacking files, pencil cup and lamp. She rubbed the petals of a silk flower between her fingers.

  “No, Dee, I’m not mad. But I’m peeved. You’re supposed to be following our rules. Doing what we say. Summer and I want what’s best for you. You obviously aren’t concerned with what’s best for you, but we are. So yes, I’m peeved. Your office space looks very nice. The flowers are lovely, although they aren’t going to help you actually get a new job. So I’m peeved. Now, let’s see your new suit.”

  “It’s about atmosphere,” Delaney said. “It makes me more pro
ductive.”

  Josie tapped her fingers on the desk and Delaney huffed off to her bedroom, muttering, “Be the professional.” While she changed into her suit, she could hear Josie speaking in rapid-fire Spanish to Pixie.

  “Pixie says she’s peeved, too,” Josie reported when Delaney came back out. “But that is a nice suit. We both like it, don’t we, Pix?”

  “Is it okay?”

  “Yes. It’s good. I just said that. I know you want me to gush on and on about it, but I’m peeved. Your assignment for tonight is to write your resume and print off some copies.”

  “I work tonight. After I feed you.”

  “Should have done it today then, huh? Instead of shopping.”

  “You know, you could do it for me tonight. While Paul’s working.”

  “That’s true. But instead, I’m going to watch something horribly cheesy on TV while I grade papers.”

  “You guys are slave drivers.”

  “You bet your ass.”

  ***

  So, maybe the lemon chicken was a little more complicated than Delaney remembered. Pulling it out of the oven to serve it, she noticed it looked more like something she’d scoop out of Pixie’s litter box. Maybe it just needed to sit for a while. She put the baking dish on the counter. Nervous now, she checked the potatoes. She remembered her mom telling her something about the potato falling easily off the fork … she had to shake it a little, but the potato did fall off eventually, landing back in the steaming pot with a plop and splashing her arm with boiling water. She drained them and began to mash them with a fork.

  “Don’t you have a masher?” Josie asked from the dining room table, where she was grading a social studies quiz.

  “No. I meant to buy one today,” Delaney lied, “but they didn’t have any at the store.”

  “Mmm. Okay.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, okay.”

  The door flew open then, and Summer and her kids paraded in. First Sarah, carrying a big library book in front of her, then Nate, dragging his full-to-bursting backpack on the floor behind him, then Luke, with a sword in each hand. Finally, Summer walked in, holding hands with a toddling Hannah.

  “We’re all hungry, Aunt D,” Nate said. “Mom says your cooking had better be good, because she doesn’t want to take us out to eat after this.”

  “Nate!” Sarah said. “You weren’t supposed to tell her!”

  “Yeah, jerk,” Luke said. “You’re supposed to say it’s delicious, no matter what. Remember?”

  Summer shrugged apologetically at Delaney.

  Great. Everybody’s expecting this to be terrible.

  Fortunately, she didn’t disappoint. The chicken was mushy, as she’d anticipated when she took it out of the oven. The asparagus was overdone, limp and squishy and falling apart in strings. The potatoes were lumpy and bland.

  “Aunt Dee, is this your first time cooking, like, ever?” Sarah wanted to know.

  “It’s my first time in a long time. I wanted to show your mom and Aunt J that I can cook. It’s not great, but it’s edible, right?”

  “I hear crickets chirping,” Nate said.

  “Summer? Josie? What do you guys think?”

  “Well …” Summer said slowly. “Josie?”

  “Ay, Summer. It’s bad, Dee. I mean, yes, it’s edible. But it’s bad. If I was at a restaurant I’d send it back. Sorry.”

  Delaney grimaced. “So I need those cooking lessons, huh?”

  “Yes,” chorused her guests. “You do.”

  “All right, all right. Sign me up.”

  Because Delaney cooked and Josie had to get home to her cheesy TV and more paper-grading, Summer volunteered to do dishes if Delaney would sword fight with the boys and watch Hannah.

  They’d all eaten it, Delaney thought as she used her broom to ward off the sword-wielding boys, but she’d barely been able to choke it down herself. Before tonight, she’d expected to feel triumphant when everyone finished eating. Now, she just felt embarrassed.

  Summer and Josie were right. Just like the rest of her life, her cooking skills needed a serious boost.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “A rum and Coke,” the business exec told Delaney as he slid up to the bar. “Actually, might as well make it two.”

  He’d walked into Rowdy’s a few minutes before, wearing dejection like a wet sock, uncomfortable and sticky. Tie untied and dangling limply, collar unbuttoned, head down, he tucked his long legs into the space between his stool and the bar. Delaney’s intuition cringed and brought Jake Rhoades to the forefront of her mind. She wondered what he was up to tonight. Was he relaxing on his couch with a Rolling Rock? Or playing pool over at Fast Jack’s?

  She dropped a couple of ice cubes into a short glass and poured Mister “Make it Two” his first rum and Coke. Messy hair, a stain on his shirt and elbows on the bar: she pegged him not only as a man who’d been wronged, but also as an all-nighter.

  “He’s so your type, Delaney,” Ivy whispered conspiratorially, wiggling her eyebrows. “He’s going to hit on you. Wait and see.”

  That is my type?

  “You think so?” Delaney said.

  “Oh, yeah. Turn on that Big Delaney Charm, and he’s going to turn into a quivering puddle of desire.”

  “Or a quivering puddle of rum and Coke. He asked me to pour him two at once and he just finished his second.”

  Because Delaney had a certain amount of introspection, she was willing to admit it took quite a bit of effort to keep her voice neutral as she kept Mister “Make it Two” saturated with rum and Coke all night. Big Delaney Charm came naturally, after all, and it plowed down intuition like it was a dry cornstalk in mid-winter. By the time midnight ticked by, she lost count of the number of times she had to stop herself from making a witty, clever, or otherwise flirtatious comment to a man who really was turning into a puddle before her eyes.

  ***

  “She’s eyeing that floppy-haired, pinstriped, red-eyed slob,” Summer murmured to Josie.

  The two of them sat in the back corner of Rowdy’s. When they’d first slid onto the tall stools, Benjamin had rushed over, but the greeting died on his lips when they shook their heads frantically and waved him off. He shrugged, then bumbled over to a table where two couples sat, a chessboard set up between them.

  “Do you think he’ll tell her we’re here?” Josie said.

  “Doubt it. He grew up with a bunch of sisters. We’re wearing disguises. He’ll catch the drift.” Summer adjusted the visor of her hat.

  “He recognized us right away. Don’t you think Delaney will see us, too?” To keep busy, Josie began braiding the long blonde wig she’d insisted on wearing.

  “No. She’s locked in on that flop.”

  “Why does she do this, Summer? Why?”

  “I’m thinking that’s a rhetorical question,” Summer said. “But remember in junior high, when we met her? You were the sizzlin’ hot Latin lover type—”

  “And you,” Josie said, “were the beautiful beach babe blonde.”

  Summer nodded. “And Delaney—well, Delaney was always the best friend. The confidant. Guys loved her.”

  “Like a sister,” Josie said.

  “Right,” Summer said. “So you get the double whammy. One, she almost can’t resist a good sob story. Two, she’s lured in as soon as a guy seems to like her like her.”

  For a few moments, Summer and Josie watched Delaney. Her movements were efficient as she mixed drinks, handed out beers, took orders, carried on a conversation with the dud at the bar who downed rum and Cokes like he’d rather be swimming in them.

  “She’s totally in her element,” Summer said.

  Delaney cracked a joke to a college kid who ordered a six-pack of beers and the friends who were crowded behind him jeered and elbowed him.

  “I know,” Josie said. “She’s really good. Why doesn’t that confidence translate to the rest of her life?”

  “I’m telling you. You’re ont
o something. It’s that whole I-like-you-as-a-friend thing from junior high. When the pressure’s off, like when she’s flirting with a college kid in whom she has no interest, she’s fine. But when the pressure’s on—” Summer swiped a hand across her throat.

  Benjamin came back to the table, plunked a vodka cranberry and glass of white on the table.

  “Thanks, Benji,” Josie said. “Do us a favor and don’t tell Delaney we’re here, okay?”

  “Glasses, hats, a wig, for crying out loud? Frantic waving? I got it,” he said. “My lips are sealed.”

  He started to walk away, then suddenly spun around and came back, leaning over their table.

  “You guys might as well be holding up fluorescent We Heart Delaney signs, though. She looks over here once and she’s going to spot you.”

  This time when he walked away, he was shaking his head.

  “We’ve got to stop her,” Josie said.

  “You don’t just want to see how this plays out?”

  Delaney had stopped in front of the longhaired, rubber-jointed man. Again. Now she was bending down, elbows on the bar, eyes level with his.

  “She’s looking very sympathetic,” Summer said. “Look at her nodding. Look at her eyebrows.”

  “She’s already breaking our rules. If we don’t stop her now, when do we?”

  “We agreed we were coming here only to establish a baseline, Josie. Remember?”

  Summer sipped her wine, picked up her napkin and began folding it into a crane.

  “Fine.”

  At Josie’s use of Delaney’s new go-to answer, the girls dissolved into giggles. When they saw Benjamin look sharply at them from across the room, they slapped their hands over their mouths, becoming even more hysterical.

  ***

  Sure enough, after an hour and two more rum and Cokes, Mister “Make it Two,” also known as David, spilled his guts.

  “… and my girlfriend moved to Costa Rica with this surfer guy who looks like Fabio. Right before I was going to propose.”

  His pale gray eyes shone with emotion, his tie lay in a coil on the bar and Delaney almost had to wipe a tear off her own face after listening to his story. She wanted to soothe him. So what if that meant unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way and peeling off those silky black pants?