The Dating Intervention: Book 1 in the Intervention Series Page 8

  3. Find a new job. A good job. A job that actually challenges you.

  4. Withhold all criticism of all men we select for you. Period.

  5. Do not access your online dating profile without one or both of us present.

  6. Do not, under any circumstances, date anyone we haven’t selected for you.

  7. Adhere to the 3-drink limit (that’s 3 drinks per date, not 3 per hour).

  8. No sex. At all. Really. We mean it.

  9. Remember, we love you.

  Summer, who’d been reading over Delaney’s shoulder, took the paper, got a pen out of her purse and added:

  10. Follow directions. Or risk being shamed by Summer. Publicly.

  Delaney flipped to the second page, which was labeled “Appendix 1: Decision-Making Flow Chart.”

  The first question: “Are you attracted to him?” led to “Are you attracted to him because he’s a loser?” for a “yes” answer and “Could you be?” for a “no.” There were questions like, “Are you having fun so far?” and “Have you seen his bare feet?”

  “Seriously? ‘Have you seen his bare feet?’ What does that have to do with anything?”

  “It’s an intimacy thing,” her friends chorused.

  “Now. Any questions?” Josie asked in a sweet voice that contrasted her lethal expression.

  “What if I totally hate the guys you pick for me?”

  “Would we do that to you?” Josie said.

  “What if they hate me?”

  “Ah, there’s the real issue,” Summer said.

  “Stop using your mommy powers on me,” Delaney snapped.

  “Just sign,” Josie said, pointing at the bottom of the paper.

  Delaney signed, and couldn’t say why she felt like she was signing her life away. Selling her soul. She cleared her throat.

  “Now. I have some rules of my own,” she said. “And I used my brand new printer to print them out.”

  Summer and Josie exchanged a glance. Josie shrugged. Delaney pulled her own sheet of paper out of her purse, unfolded it and smoothed it on the table.

  “Summer, you have to agree to start looking for gigs for your band.”

  When Summer started to interject, Delaney held up a hand. “I know what you’re going to say. You need to help Derek find a job, you’re going to have to take on more design clients to supplement the income, you’re pregnant and will be in the bathroom or at the doctor all the time, you have to take the kids to school, et cetera. Copy that. But you know what you’d say to me?”

  Josie joined Delaney, in a mocking tone: “If you want something, you have to take the steps to get it.”

  Despite herself, Summer smiled. Delaney pointed to the X she’d made on her paper.

  “Fine,” Summer said. She signed. “I’ll do it. We can’t expect you to do all the work.”

  “Josie,” Delaney said. “You have to start exercising. You’ve been saying for months that you’re overweight, you’re tired of being overweight, blah, blah, blah. I think your curves are sexy as hell. But frankly, I’m sick of hearing it. Hit the gym, sister.”

  “Ouch,” Josie said.

  “It’s just because I love you,” Delaney said. “And because I love you, I’ll join the gym with you.”

  “Me too,” Summer chimed in. “If I’m going to get up on a stage, I’ve got to be in shape. I can at least do a little cardio and some light weights.”

  “Deal?” Delaney asked.

  Josie signed her paper.

  “Deal,” she said. “I need a week to get mentally prepared. And to get my wardrobe situated.”

  “Oh, of course,” Summer said. “Josie Garcia the Fashionable must ensure she is properly outfitted. Don’t you have any sweats?”

  “I’m not showing up to the gym, or anywhere else, in sweats,” Delaney said in a high-pitched voice with a Spanish accent.

  “Don’t mock me,” Josie growled. “Seriously. I’m not. Give me a week. Next Thursday, we’ll meet at the gym instead of Rowdy’s. Then we’ll come over here to celebrate. I’ll get a light beer or some crap. A skinny something-or-other.”

  “Fine,” Delaney said.

  “Now. Enough business,” Josie said. “I can’t take this personal development shit much longer. Who wants another drink before I kill you at pool?”

  ***

  Nerves made Delaney five minutes early. She hated being early. She stopped outside The Sand Witch and squinted down at her watch. She found herself tapping a toe – a nervous habit she hated – so she took a deep breath and forced herself to sit on the edge of a planter box full of snapdragons. Four minutes. The girls had instructed her to show up two minutes early, which she found acceptable. She spent plenty of time showering and putting on the outfit Summer and Josie chose for her: a light green sweater to match her eyes and dark skinny jeans with boots. She spent more time than usual applying her makeup. But it still wasn’t time to leave. After a few minutes of pacing the living room, anxiety won, forcing her to start walking.

  The slightly warmer weather had brought people out into the sunlight and Delaney found herself looking into cars and shop windows for Jake Rhoades. Every time she saw a faded blue t-shirt, she felt a tiny spike of adrenaline. Then she reminded herself that it had been a few days since she’d seen him and he probably wasn’t wearing that same shirt. And if he was, he probably smelled pretty ripe.

  “Get a grip,” she muttered to herself.

  She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the deli’s window, realized she was scowling and made a conscious effort to relax her facial muscles.

  The Sand Witch’s Friday afternoon crowd, packed into tiny tables and rickety chairs, gave her a bout of claustrophobia. Should she keep waiting outside? Should she go in and fight for a table? Josie’s flow chart wouldn’t work, yet. It applied only after she’d met the guy. Should she text Josie or Summer and ask what to do?

  “They’re probably parked across the street,” she said aloud.

  She spun around to check, but she didn’t spot them or their cars. She resolved to stop talking to herself and stood back up to pace.

  “He’s very much looking forward to meeting you,” Summer had said the night before, winking. “And he’ll be wearing a white Stetson.”

  “Seriously? What does that say about a guy?”

  “He’s a real-life rancher, D. It says he has rough hands,” Josie answered. “Which, I don’t think I have to remind you, you like.”

  That was true, anyway. But a white Stetson? Summer and Josie selected the rancher first thing. He was tall, strapping, handsome and most importantly, responded right away when they’d messaged him about a date this weekend. Delaney couldn’t decide whether a fast – no, immediate – response time was good or not. And a white Stetson?

  A white Stetson. It was coming up the street now, on the head of a very tall, broad-shouldered cowboy. Instinct kicked in and Delaney ran through her mental checklist. Would she sleep with him? Oh, yeah. Would she like to look at him? For sure. Would she like to look at him naked? More than likely. The answers to the other questions – Would they be able to carry on a conversation? and Would he make her laugh? were yet to be determined.

  “Delaney,” he said.

  It wasn’t a question. He spoke with confidence, ease and a drawl. She liked it and apparently, so did that inner voice. So much so that she felt her face splitting into a natural smile, one she didn’t have to force.

  “Jesse,” she answered. An embarrassed heat blossomed on her cheeks.

  He put out his hand and she resisted examining it for callouses. She put hers out, too, and when he took it, grasping it rather than shaking it, she was pleased to find it was large, warm and yes, rough. One point for Jesse. Eye contact, she noted. Two points. Josie’s rubric probably said something about that. His eyes were brown with flecks of green. Nice.

  “Shall we?”

  He motioned to the door and at her nod, opened it.

  “Crowded, isn’t it?” His whisper in her
ear sent a shiver down to her core.

  “Yeah. I noticed that when I walked up,” she said. “Fridays are usually pretty busy.”

  “What do you say we grab our sandwiches to go and find a picnic spot?” he said.

  “Great idea.” Romantic. Another point for Jesse.

  She noticed with interest that he opened the door, held it for her and took off his hat when he entered. He paid for her lunch, which made her slightly uncomfortable even though she liked it. But Josie had predicted this: Jesse, she’d said, grew up in a culture where manners were instilled at an early age. She saw it in her students every day.

  “Good, old-fashioned manners, D,” she’d said. “I can guarantee you, neither Zachary the Brilliant or Xander the Adventurous had them. But Mark Cortez the Steamy did and Jesse the Rancher will. You let him pay. You let him hold the door for you. You say thank you. Be a lady. He’s not going to appreciate the feminist crap Zachary probably thrived on. Which was only because he’s cheap and weak-minded.”

  At that, Summer had kicked Josie under the table. Josie had shrugged. “Someone’s gotta say it.”

  Jesse the Rancher took Delaney’s sandwich box so he could carry it for her, then rushed ahead of her to open the door with a foot. She thanked him but thought the move was awkward and ridiculous. Then she remembered Rule Number Four – withhold criticism.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  The Stetson (which he’d had to put back on to carry sandwiches and open the door) nodded.

  “I know a place,” Jesse said. “And it should be just warm enough. Would you mind holding our sandwiches? I have a blanket in the truck.”

  Although it was caked with mud – he probably lived miles out a dusty country road, Delaney thought – the truck seemed pretty nice. Jesse returned with a thick blanket he’d retrieved from the bed.

  “Might be a little hairy, but it’s better than nothin’,” he said. “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  Spring Creek ran merrily through downtown, winding its way between buildings and under quaint bridges. It sang this afternoon, thanks to the recent storm, and sparkled, too, thanks to the sun. Jesse led the way to a little bank behind the music store and he spread the blanket, which, Delaney noticed, was hairy. Very hairy.

  “Sorry ’bout that,” Jesse said. “One of my mares was in labor the other night in the snow. Wouldn’t come into the barn. So I kept her covered with this.”

  “It’s fine,” Delaney said. “Better than sitting in the mud.”

  When she’d worried about making small talk, Summer had told her to start by asking questions about him. How his day was going, what he had planned for the weekend, what happened during the spring in the ranching business, why he wore a white Stetson, even on trips into town. Okay, Summer hadn’t said anything about that last one. Delaney reprimanded herself for being critical again. He was a perfectly nice guy. So what if he had dirt caked under his fingernails and was, at the moment, removing a huge wad of chewing tobacco from his lower lip? They sat side by side on the blanket, their feet pointing towards the creek and their backs against a warm granite boulder.

  “How’s your day going?” she asked, unwrapping her sandwich.

  He nodded and she was relieved to read enthusiasm in the gesture. “Great,” he said. “Great. We butchered a hog this morning – enough meat to get us through ’til fall. But I made a mess out of my boots.”

  Lifting his right foot, he angled his boot so she could see a swirl of blood on the heel.

  “Got ’em mostly cleaned up, though. Messy business.”

  Why did I order ham and cheese? Delaney did her best to swallow the bite she’d taken. Why couldn’t I have ordered a veggie sandwich?

  “Ever been to a butcherin’?”

  The man was oblivious. He might have good manners, but he had no regard for proper mealtime conversation. Delaney shook her head.

  “Messy business,” he repeated, then a third time, drawing out “messy”: “Meeessssssy business.”

  He took another huge bite.

  Desperate Delaney blurted out, “Have you ever been on a hot air balloon?”

  The Stetson bobbed.

  “Long time ago. My parents took me and my older brother to celebrate our first hog sale with 4-H. You know, kids raise livestock and sell it. We’d each raised a pig – their names were Lucy and Ricky Ricardo. You know, like the ‘I Love Lucy’? Anyway, you ever done that? Raised a hog?”

  Again, Delaney shook her head.

  “I’ve seen ‘I Love Lucy,’ though,” she said.

  “So you get ’em when they’re these itty bitty piglets. And you feed ’em, care for ’em, clean their pen for months. When you’re a kid, it feels like forever. I got attached. Of course.”

  He chuckled then.

  “I bawled my eyes out when it was time to sell Lucy. I knew somebody was going to butcher her, even though my big brother, James, he tried to tell me she was going to live at an amusement park for pigs. Come on, right? Anyway, I was so upset. Inconsolable. So after we sold them, my parents took us to the hot air balloon park just north of Phoenix, you know it?”

  “Yep,” Delaney said.

  “It was fun. Real fun. But I was still heartbroken about Lucy.”

  “Do you think you’ll let your kids raise livestock for 4-H?” she asked.

  “Oh, yeah. For sure. I mean, I don’t have any kids yet – you know that from my profile – but I think it’s important for kids to be self-sufficient. To know exactly where their food comes from. To appreciate that a single hog can feed a whole family for months.”

  “Do you live with your whole family?”

  “Yeah, well, we all live on the property, you know. It’s big. Fifty acres. I have my own house, my brother has his own house and my parents have theirs. So we all have our space. But when we butcher, like this morning, we share. Share the work and share the meat.”

  He licked a glob of mayo off his thumb. Still queasy, Delaney took a deep breath as she wrapped the rest of her meal in the deli paper. Can this man not stop talking about meat? She didn’t need Josie’s rubric to know she didn’t want to sit through another meal hearing about bloody boots and butchering.

  Again, she tried for a subject change: “Do you and your brother get along well?”

  “Oh, yeah. We do. We have a lot of fun. We’re always playing practical jokes on each other. This morning, when we were butchering, he took the hog’s ears and –”

  “Wait,” Delaney interrupted. “Wait. You can tell me this one later. I don’t think I can stomach anymore.”

  Jesse guffawed, the sound as big as he was. He slapped his thigh, wiped his eyes, took a deep breath.

  “I’m real sorry, Delaney. I should have thought about that.”

  He stopped talking about hogs then and dug into his sandwich, still chuckling.

  ***

  The girls instructed Delaney that her date could last no longer than three hours. So precisely at one minute after the three-hour mark, her phone chirped. Delaney was sitting in the square, watching a couple of kids throw coins into the fountain. The little boy, who looked to be about two, was throwing a tantrum because he wanted to throw another coin. When his dad had said he didn’t have any more, the little boy tried to climb into the fountain to get the one he’d just tossed.

  So, how was it?

  The text was from Summer and she’d copied Josie on it. Delaney replied to both of them: Bloody.

  Summer: What?

  Delaney: All he talked about was butchering a hog.

  Josie: But was he nice? Did he have good manners? He was probably nervous.

  Delaney: Yes and yes. He didn’t seem nervous. Just regular conversation in the life of a rancher, I think.

  Josie: So what’s the problem?

  Delaney: Not very romantic.

  Summer: Reality check: Life’s not always romantic.

  Delaney: I know it’s not. Believe me. I know.

  Josie: Did you fill out the
rubric?

  Delaney: I don’t need to. I’m not sitting through another meal with Jesse the Rancher.

  Summer: Josie, we knew she was going to be tough to tame.

  Delaney: I can still see what you’re texting, Summer.

  Josie: We’re up to it. This is a test of patience for both of us.

  Summer: You have another date tonight, Dee. Are you ready?

  Delaney: I need a new outfit. This one’s covered in horse hair.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Well, don’t you look fancy!”

  Camille Collins’ voice rang out through Umbrella Coffee, embarrassing Delaney and sending a rush of pleasure through her at the same time.

  “Oh, mom,” Delaney said. “It’s just a regular outfit.”

  As she always did when she came into Umbrella Coffee, Delaney immediately felt calmer. The paintings on the walls showed rainy scenes, each of them including at least one umbrella. A rainbow of open umbrellas hung from the ceiling.

  “Did you have a date? With which guy? Mark? Or was it that other – Zorro, is that it?”

  Delaney had forgotten that she was going to have to explain the whole failed-fail-proof-dating-system situation to her mom, disappointing yet another of the important people in her life. Maybe she could avoid it. She made a big show of setting her purse on the empty chair next to her, checking her phone and then putting her phone away and zipping her purse before making eye contact again.

  “So, how was the beach, Mom?”

  “Oh, it was wonderful. Just wonderful. You know, a bit chilly, but not a bit of fog. Clear as – well, clear as a summer’s day. Only, it’s late winter.”

  They settled into a pair of cushy lounge chairs in the corner, Camille sipping an iced latte and Delaney, images of a bloody pig still fresh in her mind, able to stomach only a cup of tea.

  “So tell me why you’re looking so nice today.”

  “What, I can’t look nice to meet my mother for coffee?”

  “There’s more to it. Although you’re looking a bit green around the gills. Are you sick?”