The Dating Intervention: Book 1 in the Intervention Series

by Hilary Dartt

  Then he told her he simply couldn’t hire someone who’d been tending bar for the past seven years. He hadn’t actually said that. He’d said he couldn’t hire someone with no actual in-office experience after vet school. Feeling sullen and sorry for herself, she yanked off her suit the moment she got in the door of her house. Why did I make myself look like a delinquent?

  She didn’t have to call Summer or Josie to know what they’d say. Summer would say, “You learn something every time, Dee,” and Josie would say, “Suck it up and go to the next one. Somebody’s gotta hire you.”

  For the past few days, she’d spent every spare moment at her computer, scouring the job ads, polishing her resume and applying for open positions. She was surprised at the number of veterinary clinics in Juniper, and even more surprised at how many were hiring.

  In an hour, she’d be rolling up at another interview, at a big box pet store on the opposite side of town. In a renewed effort to be proactive and prepared, she had printed out fifty copies of her resume just this morning. At the time, she thought leaving the past several years blank was a stroke of genius. More like a colossal mistake, she now realized, in more ways than one. She pulled on a pair of clean jeans, sat down at her desk, adjusted her resume to reflect her time at Rowdy’s and printed out a single copy.

  Absolute mayhem greeted her when she arrived at the big box store for her next interview. The clinic was at the back of the store, in a tiny room whose walls were lined with what seemed like hundreds of kennels.

  What is it with vets and flannel shirts? A hulking woman with a huge mop of greasy blond hair approached her. The dogs along the back wall yipped and whined. One of them, a tiny terrier with a bandage over one eye, scratched incessantly at the gate on its kennel.

  The woman put out a massive hand. “Dr. Rosen,” she said. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” Delaney said. “Delaney Collins.”

  Scratch scratch scratch scratch. Yip.

  “So … you’ve spent the past few years working at a bar?”

  “Yeah. Rowdy’s. On Main.”

  “I know it. Met my husband there, actually. Great place. You’ll see my boots on the wall. Top right. ‘Met my future husband.’ I left the bar barefoot that night.” She whooped. “What a hoot!”

  Suddenly seeming to remember why they were there, she said, “But you haven’t actually worked in the field?”

  “Not yet,” Delaney said, trying for charming.

  “Look, you seem nice. But we’re swamped here, as you can see. I’m really looking for someone with more experience, someone who can handle this workload, get through the patients fast.” She slammed a fist on the table. “Hit the ground running! I don’t have the time to bring you up to speed.”

  Delaney had to admit she wasn’t disappointed she hadn’t gotten that particular job. Just the thought of walking into that din every single day gave her the beginnings of a migraine. At the same time, she was disappointed. It stung to think she didn’t look like a good prospect in the eyes of the meaty Doctor Rosen. Summer would say something now about the right position falling into her lap at precisely the right time.

  Someone will hire me, she reminded herself in the confident tone of voice she imagined Josie would use. Someone has to.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Spring fever. Delaney remembered getting it in elementary school. High school, even. Now, Summer’s kids had it. Bad. They practically flew into the car after school and chattered like little birds for several minutes before Delaney was able to get them to sit down and buckle up.

  “Aunt D, Mom says you’re looking for a new boyfriend,” Sarah said from the back seat. “Is that true?”

  “Kind of. I don’t know. Buckle.”

  “What about that guy, that Good Sam guy?” Sarah said.

  “Oh, the Good Samaritan?”

  “Yeah. What was his name?”

  “Jake,” Delaney said.

  “Ooh, Aunt Dee’s blushing!” one of the boys called.

  “Hey. Watch it, Nate,” Delaney said.

  “It was Luke!” Nate said.

  “Watch it, Luke. I’ll leave you at school next week. Now buckle.”

  Thank goodness the drive lasted only ten minutes. Usually Delaney ushered them inside, dropped the keys on the table and chatted with Summer for a few minutes. But today, maybe she’d just dump them in the driveway, throw the keys at the front door and get the heck out of there.

  “So did you?” Sarah said.

  “Yes, Sarah. I went on a date with the Good Sam guy, Jake.”

  “Was it nice?” Sarah said.

  “Did you kiss?” Nate said.

  “Yes, it was nice, and no, we didn’t kiss. I’m scandalized! What do you guys think of me? You never kiss on the first date!”

  “Are you going on another date with him?” Luke said.

  “I hope so.”

  Summer came out to greet them, but for once, she didn’t look happy to see the kids.

  “Nate. Your teacher called today.”

  Nate ducked his head. His shoulders slumped.

  “Did you punch Charlie Wilkes in the face?”

  “Yes,” he mumbled.

  “Why would you do that?”

  Nate shrugged.

  Summer looked at Delaney, who shrugged as well, and bit her lip to keep from smiling at Nate’s body language.

  “Well, you’re going to lose some privileges, big guy,” Summer said. “Unless you come up with a good explanation. Come on. Inside. We’re going to get to the bottom of this.“

  ***

  Rowdy’s dim lights and loud music provided a welcome respite from the job search.

  “Well, at least you’ve had two interviews,” Josie said as Delaney pouted into her drink. “Give me an interview tip.”

  “Don’t wear dark pants to a veterinary clinic.”

  “Shit. You did that? Do Summer and I need to take over your job hunt, too?”

  Josie stirred her vodka cranberry.

  “Can we talk about something else?” Delaney said. She could hear the edgy tone in her voice and tried to lighten it. “My cooking class is super fun. How about that? I’ve cooked spaghetti, pork loin, roasted chicken and steak.”

  “Wow. You just quadrupled your cooking repertoire,” Josie said, winking at Delaney.

  “Geez, Josie,” Summer said.

  “What?! It’s true!”

  Summer rolled her eyes, then turned toward Delaney. “That’s great, Dee. Isn’t it fun? Enjoy it now, before you have kids and it becomes a form of slavery.”

  “Speaking of kids, did you ever find out why Nate punched that kid at school?” Delaney asked.

  “Yeah. For the past week, every time they play kickball at recess, the little asshole pegs Nate in the face with the ball. On purpose.”

  “So he deserved it.” Josie said.

  Delaney winced. The kid did deserve it. She wondered how mad Summer was going to be when she found out Delaney had encouraged Nate to punch the little bully right in the kisser. Charlie Wilkes was the kind of fourth-grader who turned into a Joe Jansen, Delaney’s eighth-grade crush, shaming dorky girls by publicly rejecting their invitations to the movies.

  “I guess.” Summer shrugged. “I mean, I asked him if he talked to him first and he said he did, but the kid kept throwing the ball at him. I can’t really blame him, but I don’t want him going around punching people.”

  Covering her mouth with her hand, Delaney looked down at the table.

  “Delaney, why do you look so guilty?”

  “Who, me?” She took a drink of her beer.

  “Yeah. You.”

  “No reason.”

  “Is there something you want to tell me about my son?”

  “Cat that ate the canary,” Josie said, under her breath.

  Delaney looked from Summer to Josie, and back to Summer. It was now or never. “Okay. All right. I told him to punch the kid. Last time I picked them up. He was upset, practically
crying. I asked him if he used his words! I swear! He said he did! He said the yard duties didn’t do anything about it because they didn’t see it. So I told him, ‘The next time that horrible boy throws the ball at your face, you punch him right in his nasty little mouth.’”

  “Seriously?” Josie asked. She was smiling broadly but glanced quickly at Summer to gauge her reaction.

  “Yeah. Seriously.” Although Delaney heard the indignation in her own voice, she could feel embarrassment on its heels. She cringed.

  “Fine,” Summer said. “You were right. Damn kid deserved a good punch in the face.”

  Delaney shrugged, hoped the relief didn’t come through in her voice. “That’s what I thought.”

  Then she quickly changed the subject. “So Josie. How’s Blair?”

  “Uppity bitch,” Josie said, waving a hand dismissively. “Actually, she’s been out sick the past couple of days. I highly suspect someone put a hunk of rat poison in her coffee when she started flirting with Scott.”

  “Was it you?” Delaney asked, but before Josie had a chance to answer, Summer held up a finger.

  “Great news,” she said. Her eyes were alight with excitement and her voice was breathy.

  “Another girl?” Josie said.

  “Won’t know for a couple more months. Actually, it’s not kid-related. Believe it or not,” she added when they feigned shock.

  Benjamin plunked her water on the table. Summer muttered a distracted, “Thanks” as she continued to dig through her huge purse. Finally, smiling, she announced, “Here it is! The Sweets’ first official CD!”

  Delaney and Josie squealed, leapt off their stools and ran around the table to hug Summer. The men at the next table, stuffy types in expensive suits, drinking expensive beer, went quiet and stared at the women, who were now jumping up and down in excitement.

  “Sorry,” Delaney said. She giggled.

  “A copy for each of you,” Summer said.

  “You designed the cover, right?” Delaney asked.

  “Naturally,” Summer said.

  A rushed conversation followed, Delaney and Josie demanding to know how Summer got this all done in secret and Summer explaining how one of the band members had tutored the recording studio manager’s daughter in exchange for a recording session. She wanted to keep it a secret, Summer said, because she wanted to see the looks on her best friends’ faces when she handed them the finished product.

  “Phew!” she said when she finished. “That was just as thrilling as I’d hoped. You know, I think I was meant to be a rock star. I had so much fun recording that CD. You guys have to promise to give me feedback once you listen to it.”

  Delaney smiled at Summer’s faraway expression.

  That faraway look transformed into one of focus, and Delaney braced herself. “Now,” Summer said, “let’s talk about our other pet project. D, you have a couple – actually, three – more date requests on your profile. Josie and I have talked, and we agree that you should chat with two of them, but not go on dates with any new guys, just yet. We want to explore Mitchell and Jake, first.”

  “Do I have to chat with them? Isn’t that just leading them on?”

  Summer took a long drink of her water and Josie answered. “No, not really. Online dating is all about getting to know people without taking the risk of actually going on a date. This will just keep your options open. No cybersex.”

  “I admit, I’m feeling a little … dry.”

  “A dry spell is a good thing,” Summer said. “You don’t end up knocked up.”

  “And when you get married, he’s going to want it all the time,” Josie said.

  “Only at the beginning,” Summer muttered.

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing, Josie,” Delaney said.

  “It’s not. It’s just a fact.”

  “Ah, those were the days,” Summer said.

  “Hey, at least you guys get to do it,” Delaney said. “I’m about ready to burst. Especially after Jake Rhoades The Dreamy incinerated my panties during cooking class last night.”

  She shivered remembering the way he looked, standing there on the sidewalk.

  “Just because you’re not doing it with every guy you meet,” Josie shot.

  “Ouch,” Summer and Delaney said at the same time.

  “Geez, Josie,” Delaney added.

  “Sorry. I’m sorry. It came out a little meaner than I meant it to. But it’s true.”

  “It is true,” Delaney said. “I like sex. Is that a crime?”

  “No, it’s not,” Summer said. “Josie’s just feeling grumpy.”

  “True,” Josie said.

  “Have you been working out?” Summer asked. “You know, scientific studies have proven exercise reduces stress.”

  “I worked out with you guys.”

  “That was one time,” Summer said.

  “Maybe we need to make you our pet project,” Delaney said.

  Instead of answering, Josie dragged out her tablet and signed into Delaney’s FindLove.com account. Summer shoved her bar napkin across the table to Delaney, who read the note she’d scribbled on it: We need to get her drunk and take her dancing. That always works.

  Delaney nodded, crumpled the napkin in her hand and shoved it into her pocket as she stood up.

  “I need to use the restroom,” she announced.

  “Are you going to go text someone about us?” Josie asked without looking up from the tablet. Summer giggled.

  Benjamin was at the register between the bar and the bathroom, which put him in the perfect spot for Delaney to pay him a quick visit.

  “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.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  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?”