Counting on You (Amarillo Sour, #1)

by Laura Chapman

  She might. Taylor was every bit as married to the job as him. But tonight he didn’t figure that was the case. Even she observed the sacredness of Friday night happy hour.

  Something had come up, and it probably involved their latest project. As head of the product development team at Link Digital, Ian was nearly a month away from launching their latest mobile app. XO On Demand was expected to revolutionize online dating. At least, that’s what Taylor—the company’s marketing wiz—kept writing in her ad copy.

  He understood the need to sell the product, but he wished it didn’t involve so much hype. It didn’t give them a margin for error. Not when it promised to be the “biggest game-changer since the blind date.”

  “Fine.” He waved his hand. “Let’s talk.”

  “I just got out of a meeting with the founders.”

  That caught his attention. Bryant and Sarah, Link Digital’s founders, were the quintessential start-up types. They were laid-back on the outside in their standard uniform of company T-shirts in every color of the rainbow. The workplace reflected that. The repurposed warehouse that once made candy now held an open floor filled with pods of standing desks and foosball tables.

  But behind the novelty sunglasses were two of the sharpest minds to ever come out of the university’s tech program. They’d earned their first million while living in a dorm room. Ten years later, they ran the LD empire with more than four hundred employees worldwide.

  If they were involved in Taylor’s story, it mattered all the more. He straightened on the stool. “Go on.”

  “We’ve been through the latest beta surveys.” She reached into her oversized bag and removed a tablet. Her fingers flew across the screen, and she flipped it around for him to see. “We’re getting some solid feedback from the initial test group.”

  He scanned through the data and charts. She was right. Since doing their soft launch locally and in the three other cities, they were earning high scores in the surveys.

  “We don’t have any couples buying china or setting dates. Yet.” The set of her jaw, the determination in her eyes suggested he’d do best not to question that it would happen. Someday. “But we have a handful of reports from customers already taking their new XO-created significant others home to meet the parents.”

  “In six weeks?” That seemed fast. He’d never introduced a woman to his parents in under six weeks. Then again . . . he hadn’t made any introductions after six weeks either. “What else?”

  “People are really responding to how the app works. They love that rather than filling out a massive questionnaire, they click on pictures and give pithy short answers while the algorithm does the work. For them, it’s a game. It’s a big step up from swiping left or right on a face.”

  “No one wants to turn dating into the SATs.”

  That had been one of Ian’s ideas. Rather than fill out a complicated bio, he’d wanted to make dating into something more fun. There’d been some psychological reports about how it could remove some of the anxiety from dating, but mostly, he’d wanted to save people time and not make it cumbersome. That had been the order from the founders. Fast and fun dating without losing the quality of matches.

  So far, everything he was hearing was good. Better than good. There had to be something else. Otherwise, Taylor could’ve saved this till Monday.

  He had to ask. “Any complaints?”

  “Just the odd operating system compatibility issue here or there. A little operator error. But overall no. The app seems to be just about ready for launch.”

  Ian released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. This report wasn’t just good—it was glowing. He was about ready to buy the bar a round of shots to celebrate.

  But . . .

  “What’s the problem?” When Taylor looked like she might try to dance around the subject again, he shook his head. “Not that I don’t appreciate the stellar report card, but what gives? Why are you here?”

  Seemingly out of tools for procrastination, she took a deep gulp of her drink followed by an even deeper breath.

  “While the founders are thrilled by the early responses—and they are,” she assured him, “they’re looking for something more substantial.”

  “Something more substantial than the questions we asked on the survey?”

  She nodded.

  He swore under his breath. “Are they going to make us do another round of surveys with short answer and essay questions? People are using the app because they don’t want to write a novel.”

  “I know that. And so do they.”

  “The survey questions were fine last week and the week before. What’s changed?”

  Her perfectly sculpted brow twitched. Just enough to tell him something had changed. There was no getting around it. She was going to have to tell him everything.

  “We both know you want something.” He folded his arms across his chest. “You might as well get it over with and tell me.”

  “Okay.” She glanced over her shoulder. “This isn’t public knowledge. It’s not even supposed to be my knowledge.” She pulled a face. “I may have overheard this, which is all the more reason it has to stay between us. Hearsay is inadmissible in court. If you tell anyone, I’ll turn on you fast.”

  “Fine.” He crossed his heart. “My lips are sealed. Spill.”

  “Again, this is just what I overheard—”

  “Come on!”

  “But it sounds like your app has caught the attention of some people.” She met his gaze directly. “Important people. With money.”

  “Investors. They’ve found investors.”

  “Prospective investors. Ones who are interested in the product, but just need a little something more before they write us a check. A story.”

  “A story more substantial than a questionnaire.”

  It made perfect sense. LD had grown exponentially in the past decade. That cost money. A lot of money. Between acquiring competing companies and hiring a staff that could outnumber plenty of the small towns in Nebraska, they were operating in the red most of the time.

  They weren’t in financial trouble by any means. But they needed a better cash flow if they wanted to maintain their growth. Hire new employees. Expand their offices.

  And hopefully give Ian and Taylor the new titles they’d been promised, just as soon as they had another investment. If they wanted to become VP of product development and sales and marketing respectively, they’d better figure out how to woo this money.

  “Any ideas?”

  “Well, since you asked . . .” Taylor pulled up another page on her tablet. “I’ve narrowed down the list of respondents to just the top tier. I’m thinking maybe we could call them tomorrow and let them know we’d love to hear and share their story.”

  “You want to cold-call beta testers?” The idea made him squirm. He wouldn’t say it was below his pay grade, but it wasn’t near the top on his list of ways to spend a Saturday. “Wouldn’t it be easier just to find someone we know and have them try out the app and tell us what they think? In a compelling way.”

  “That won’t work. There’s not enough time. And whoever we pick might not end up happy or with any kind of a story worth telling.” She wiggled the screen. “This way we can guarantee a satisfied customer.”

  “But will they give us a good enough story?”

  “We’ll know within a couple of hours.”

  She made sense, maybe too much sense. The only thing holding him back from jumping right on board was how much he didn’t want to make those calls. Besides being a drag, it would mean the treadmill he’d ordered over a month ago would have to spend yet another weekend in the box.

  Then again, it could be the key to new business cards and a title even his father would find impressive. That beat out everything every day.

  “When should we start?”

  “I’m thinking we meet at eight to go over our plan.” She slipped the tablet back into her bag. “Then we’ll call the East Coast testers f
irst.”

  “Got it.”

  “Fantastic.” Beaming, she finished the last of her drink and jumped off her stool. “Don’t overdo it tonight. I need you bright-eyed and ready to work in the morning.”

  “Yes, Mom.” He frowned into his beer for show. Inside, he was bursting.

  For almost a year, he’d been waiting for this opportunity. When his father asked why—with his experience and their family connections—he stayed at a start-up when he could work for a Fortune 500 company, this was the reason. So he could be a leader, an innovator. Someone who saw his ideas become reality.

  It was almost within his reach.

  His treadmill might have to wait. But maybe if he went home now, he could spend a couple of hours looking over the ideas he’d been compiling since the promotion talk started. It wasn’t exactly getting ahead of himself. He just liked to be prepared.

  Reaching for his wallet, he was about to settle his tab when the bartender leaned toward him.

  “Oh. My. God,” Sidney whispered, a smile playing on her lips. “Check out who just strolled in. And with another first date.”

  “There’s no way he brought another girl here.” Ian turned and watched one of the bar’s regulars lead a woman through the room.

  With the only two empty seats in the whole room right next to him, Ian was moments away from having a front-row ticket to Patrick’s latest crash and burn. The poor guy’s dating routine had become almost legendary.

  “I don’t get why he brings his dates here.” Sidney rolled her eyes. “One of you has to tell him there are better places.”

  “We’ve tried.” He’d even given Patrick a short-list of restaurants and activities better than coming to a dive bar.

  “You’d think a real estate agent would understand the importance of location, location, location.”

  “We like it here.”

  She waved him off and studied the date. “This one’s pretty. And put together. She’ll hate it here. Where does he find these women?”

  Ian didn’t get a chance to respond, because the subjects of their hushed conversations had made it to their seats. Patrick waved. His date, who took the seat closest to him, gave a thin-lipped grin, before settling into her seat.

  Patrick should’ve helped her onto the stool. Ian would give that pointer the next time he saw him. Otherwise, it appeared to be going okay. At least she wasn’t complaining about the floor being sticky or that the bar didn’t have a food menu. Then again, they’d been here less than a minute.

  Ian thought about his list and treadmill at home. Maybe they could wait. It was Friday night. He deserved a little entertainment.

  Patrick ordered a gin and tonic, and she asked for a glass of wine. A white, any variation would do. She wasn’t picky. That might work in Patrick’s favor. If he could stop checking his phone. He was always on that thing looking for updates on his listings. Maybe that had more to do with his dating record than the bar.

  Once they had their drinks, Patrick gave her his attention.

  “So . . . Haleigh.”

  “It’s actually pronounced ‘Hay-lee.’”

  He frowned. “What did I say?”

  “You said ‘Hal-ee.’ A lot of people do. I guess they’re confused by the spelling.”

  Pulling out his phone again, Patrick presumably reread her name on the text message that had served as their introduction. “Hal-ee.”

  “Hay-lee.”

  “Hail-ee.”

  She opened her mouth to speak but paused. “You know, what? Don’t worry about it.”

  Ian winced. Poor Patrick. Another first and last date done-in-one for the books. Butchering a woman’s name repeatedly wasn’t going to get him a second date. Props to the guy for still trying after countless strikeouts. The other regulars should chip in to get him coaching.

  Actually, that was an idea. An app that could walk a person through the torture of a first date filled with dos and don’ts, all customized to each person’s unique crutches. While there were undoubtedly an endless supply of articles on how to have a successful first date out there, none could be specialized enough to know a person’s specific faults.

  He narrowly stopped himself from sending a text to his intern asking her to start research. No, he wasn’t going to bother her on Friday night. Besides, first things first. He needed to launch XO On Demand to get people to meet. Then he could get into helping them through the dating.

  “Dexter tells me you’re just getting back on the dating market after a bit of a dry spell.”

  “Come on, man,” Ian muttered under his breath. Was Patrick trying to make this the shortest date ever? Whatever this Dexter guy had said, it wasn’t cool to throw it in her face.

  If the blonde was fazed, she didn’t let on. “That’s right.”

  “Any specific reason why now?”

  “Well . . .” She hesitated a moment before launching into a mile-a-minute explanation.

  Even though it was none of his business, Ian leaned in to listen.

  “I haven’t been on a date in a while,” she said.

  “It’s been a few months for me, too.”

  “That’s still doing better than me.” She shook her head. “I haven’t been on a first date since high school. That’s when I met my last boyfriend. Of course, he dumped me in college. It was . . . bad. I haven’t seen him since, but our classmates think I’m pining for him because I’m single. And he isn’t helping the situation, but I’m over him. I swear. I just don’t date. Except I need a date now. One I can take to the reunion so I can get my classmates to shut up and get over themselves.”

  Her words rambled together at high speed. It was tempting to ask her to slow down and repeat what she’d said.

  Poor Patrick gaped in dumbfounded silence. Ian couldn’t blame him. The whole thing had been hard to follow, and . . . it was kind of intense.

  Patrick might not have much game when it came to dating, but this woman didn’t even seem to know what they were playing. Ian was hardly an expert on how to make a relationship work, but didn’t everyone know you weren’t supposed to bring up exes on a first date?

  Recovering, Patrick moved the conversation onto something a little safer—TV.

  As they discussed their favorite shows, Ian couldn’t help studying the woman more closely. With wavy golden locks that grazed the tops of her lean shoulders, she held herself with more confidence than her words carried. Dressed in a simple, but elegant, black knee-length dress, she was maybe a little formal for the neighborhood bar. Still, she didn’t look out of place. She was . . . pretty. No, striking. Her straight nose and high cheekbones were memorable, and her shy smile . . . Well, it made it hard to believe she had trouble finding dates.

  And she wouldn’t be getting one now. She and Patrick were both just way too awkward to make it work. He wondered if there was anyone who could help her chill out. He hoped so, for her sake. She didn’t have much time. She needed help.

  She needed XO On Demand.

  Wouldn’t that be something? A woman with no dating prowess uses the app to find a date on a deadline. Who wouldn’t want to hear that story?

  Wait . . . who wouldn’t want that story?

  What if Ian could talk this woman into trying out the app? What if it worked and she found someone to take to her reunion? Forget Taylor’s plan to cold-call people. No one could beat this. Not with this kind of drama and a ticking clock.

  It would be the ultimate success story. One that would impress even the stodgiest investor.

  She would need a little help. Telling her whole story right off the bat had been too much. She should also talk more slowly. Some of that probably had to be jitters or rustiness from being out of practice. They could work past that.

  He just needed a few minutes to talk to her. It might not be an easy sell, but he wouldn’t find another opportunity like this again. It was worth a shot.

  Chapter Three

  This could be going better.

  Haleigh mig
ht be out of practice, but even she knew a first date wasn’t supposed to be this bad. She’d started out well enough. She’d shook his hand and actually formed a complete sentence.

  It had gone downhill quickly. She’d made the rather crucial mistake of telling him way too much of her backstory. In her defense, she hadn’t expected him to call her out on being out of practice. She’d have to give Dexter the glaring of a lifetime the next time she saw him.

  After her bout of verbal dysentery, she tried to rally, taking her cues from Patrick.

  “Do you watch any TV?” Patrick asked.

  “Some. I usually have something on in the background while I’m grading.”

  “What’s your go-to?”

  “Oh . . . I like Doctor Who or Torchwood. Shows like that.”

  “I never really understood the appeal of British TV. Not even The Office before they rebooted it here in the US.” Patrick shook his head. “Plus, I’m not really into nerd culture. Oh . . .” He had the good grace to wince. “Sorry.”

  Biting her tongue, she forced a blank expression. “What do you watch?”

  “Sports mostly. Do you like baseball?”

  “It’s okay.” Then, in an effort to be more amenable, she added, “I’ve been to a few games with my parents.”

  “Cool.” He cleared his throat. “What do you do for fun?”

  “I try to work out every day. But that’s not exactly for fun.”

  “Then why do you do it?”

  “Why do most people exercise?” She shrugged. “It’s good for you.”

  “I sometimes go for bike rides. Some friends and I take rides out to breweries, but that’s more about the experience than the exercise.” His phone buzzed, and a picture of a house popped up on screen. “Sorry. A client wants to look at another house tomorrow. Do you own?”

  Something about the way he said it sounded more like the preamble to a sales pitch than idle curiosity. Then again, maybe she was just looking for faults in him.

  “I do. I bought it a couple years ago.”

  “What neighborhood?”

  She told him, and he nodded enthusiastically. “That’s a real up-and-coming part of town. If you’ve put a little work into it, you should be able to flip it for a healthy profit in another year or two.”