Counting on You (Amarillo Sour, #1)

by Laura Chapman

  “I hope not, but probably.”

  “What will happen if they’re still there when you launch?”

  “We’ll fix them.” He gulped the sweet, sour drink, giving himself a few minutes to enjoy the relief it gave his throat. “It’s not ideal, but that’s how apps work. There’s always something that needs fixing or updating.”

  “That sounds frustrating.”

  “It can be,” he agreed. “But it’s like solving a puzzle, and I like solving puzzles.”

  He caught himself entranced by that grin of hers that seemed to tease her lips a few seconds before spreading. It was like her face and brain were in a struggle to see whether humor or dignity would win out.

  Shaking his head, he cleared his throat. “Hopefully, the next glitches won’t make a difference in how people are matched. Customers will forgive us for slow service and error messages. Being set up with someone who clearly doesn’t fit their wants . . .”

  “You can only do so much. People can’t hold you responsible if their dates don’t turn out to be soulmates.”

  “True but—”

  “People are still people.” Her shoulders slumped. “They might look perfect on paper. Driven. Goal-oriented. Similar interests. That doesn’t mean they won’t cheat on you when you’re not paying attention. That they won’t try to make you feel like it was your fault, then turn around and spread rumors about you to everyone. That they won’t . . .”

  She trailed off, and her lips clamped shut. So that was how it had gone. Of course, Ian had known there’d been gossip. She’d revealed as much. He hadn’t realized the extent of it. His grip tightened on his cup. It was a pity her ex wasn’t local. The guy deserved a good smackdown. Not that Ian could give one, not physically at least. But he could hold his own in a verbal brawl.

  Haleigh feigned a sudden interest in the espresso machine. She’d revealed more than she’d intended. She hadn’t planned to go there and probably didn’t want to talk about it anymore. A gentleman would let it go. He’d pretend he hadn’t heard. But something inside Ian wouldn’t let him.

  “That’s what happened? The guy cheated.”

  “I never confirmed it for certain, but I could tell.” She sighed and met his gaze, her eyes filled with such sadness. It struck him in the chest, weighing heavy on his heart. “I know I might seem like a nervous, anxious person in general. But . . .”

  There was a reason she hadn’t dated. It went beyond awkwardness or anxiety. She’d been burned by love before. The wound had gone deep enough she’d needed the time to heal. And, maybe, once she’d healed, she’d grown comfortable on her own. It was easier to be alone than to make a connection. That’s how it seemed to him. And, he understood it.

  “I get it.” He wanted to reach out, to pull her into his arms for a hug. She looked like she could use one. But it also seemed like she might break if he touched her. “People suck sometimes.”

  “Yeah, well . . . Now you know my sad little story.”

  He had a feeling there was more to it, but he’d leave it at that. For now.

  “What do you have planned for your Sunday?”

  “How do you know I have a plan?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Hi, I’m Ian. Have we met? Aren’t you the person who spent hours researching first date tips?”

  She let out a giggle, returning the air of comfort that had stood between them earlier. “That’s fair. I do have a plan.”

  “What’s on the schedule, then? Grading a pile of papers? Writing the world’s hardest test?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Scheduling a couple of second dates from this first batch of men?”

  “None of the above.” She took another tiny bite of her cookie. “I actually have to meet up with the Girls Who Code. Their regular sponsor is out on maternity leave, and I have a lot of catching up to do. It’s like learning a new language.”

  “Code is another language.” One he spoke almost as fluently and instinctively as English.

  “Right? Well, I need to figure it out and fast, because they’re ready to start their first new project of the semester.”

  “I forgot you’re sponsoring the Girls Who Code.” It was a great organization. One his company kept talking about getting involved with, but no one ever seemed to put the talk into action. An idea popped into his head. A good one. Maybe. Depending on how she took it. “You know, I’m a guy who codes.”

  “You are.”

  “And they’re the Girls Who Code.”

  “I’m with you.”

  She obviously wasn’t making the connection. “I could probably help you out.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Because you’re a guy?”

  “What? No.” This wasn’t going as smoothly as he’d like. She’d gone from stressed to pissed in under a minute. That had to be a personal record for him. “Because I can code.”

  The frown eased from her brow, and she seemed to reconsider his offer. Thoroughly. If he’d given her a math problem to solve, he’d bet she’d have an answer for him faster than she was taking now.

  “Okay,” she said at last. “Thanks.”

  He hadn’t expected her to throw him a parade, but he’d hoped for a little more enthusiasm. Instead, she was still looking at him like she expected him to say “psych” at any minute.

  “It’ll be fun. Besides”—he shrugged—“you’re doing me a big favor. It’s the least I can do.”

  “You’re already doing enough.”

  He didn’t argue, but only because he didn’t want it to turn into a full-fledged fight. Her reservation might not make sense to him. Then again, she’d just told him she had plenty of reasons to be untrusting of men.

  ***

  She hadn’t expected him to show.

  Even though Ian promised he’d be at the coffee shop by four o’clock Sunday afternoon to meet with the Girls Who Code, she figured he’d cancel. It wouldn’t be much of a stretch for him to come up with a good excuse. The guy was weeks away from releasing one of the most anticipated apps of the year. She’d read all about it in the Wall Street Journal, The New York Times, and BuzzFeed after Googling him and Link Digital the other night.

  She’d known LD was a big deal. She just hadn’t realized it was such a big deal.

  Still, despite the fact that he was about to launch what the Journal called a “major game-changer on the Silicon Prairie and Beyond” and BuzzFeed said was “the best thing to happen to dating since the telephone,” he arrived right on time.

  It was a good thing, too. She’d be lost without him.

  At the other end of the tables the eight of them had pushed together in the back of the shop, Ian scanned whatever the girls were showing him.

  “This looks good,” he said. “You’ve built a solid architecture.”

  “Even the CMS?”

  “There might be some ways to streamline that part, but it will get you through the initial build.”

  The fourteen-year-old girl beamed at him. And if Haleigh wasn’t mistaken, behind that pride there was a healthy layer of teenybopper crush. When she’d introduced him to the group, they’d gasped and murmured amongst themselves like she’d told them Chris Pine was on the schedule. Apparently, they were on top of their start-up news.

  “What about the photos and graphics?” another girl asked.

  He stroked the stubble on his chin. He’d skipped a shave this morning, and the hair darkening his chin was oddly appealing. “You might run into some issues if you add more. There’s always a risk when you creep above the two G range.”

  “Should we get a new host?”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “Wait.” Another girl leaned in. “Couldn’t we contract someone else to host the images?”

  “You could. There’s always a cost when you have some assets hosted elsewhere. We’ll bargain shop when we get there.”

  They might as well be speaking Greek. For all she knew, they were speaking Greek. She didn’t know the root origin for coding. After the first ten minutes,
she’d given up trying to look up everything in her copy of Coding for Dummies. There was no point. By the time she found one term, there were another five.

  Instead, she scribbled down each word or phrase she didn’t understand. She’d decipher them later.

  Again, thank goodness for Ian. If she’d been left on her own, the girls would’ve been frustrated. They’d probably still be in brainstorming mode an hour into their meeting instead of presenting bits of code for him to review. They were amazing.

  He was amazing. She knew twenty-five-year teachers who didn’t show as much patience as he was. Granted, he was working with half a dozen young women who were excited to learn rather than trying to force a reluctant student to learn the Pythagorean theorem. Still, she was impressed.

  Catching her stare, he flashed her a grin. Her cheeks warmed, but she kept his gaze. He mouthed, “Doing okay?” Or it might have been another one of the Greek words, but she went with her first instinct. She nodded, and he winked.

  If possible, her cheeks burned even hotter. Good grief. She was in danger of turning into a fangirl just like the rest of the crew.

  They did another coding session followed by another round of reviews. Every few minutes, Ian would look up to check in. It had probably become a habit. The man had spent three nights guiding her through date after date. He probably expected her to break out into nervous giggles or kick the table leg at any moment.

  Or maybe he understood she was lost, and he wanted to let her know it was okay.

  That was probably giving the guy too much credit. Then again, she hadn’t given him enough by assuming he’d be an impatient genius who couldn’t work on the same level as her girls. Maybe she should give him the benefit of the doubt. He certainly seemed to deserve it.

  By the time the first of the parents arrived for pickup, Ian and the girls had solidified the website’s basic architecture. Whatever that meant.

  Wiping the cookie crumbs from her fingers, she stood. “Good work today, girls. Don’t forget to thank Mr. Henning for giving us his time this afternoon.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Henning,” they sang in chorus.

  Now it was his turn to flush bright red. Sparing her a glance, his eyes narrowed, then he turned his attention back to the girls, lifting a shoulder in his typical shrug.

  “Thanks for letting me crash your coding party.”

  That earned him another murmur of ooh-ing and aah-ing.

  “Keep up the good work. In a few more years, I’ll be offering you jobs.” His brow furrowed, and he frowned. “Actually, that might not be such a good idea. You’ll put me out of work in under six months. Guaranteed.”

  If he hadn’t already secured his status as a teen idol to the Girls Who Code, he would have now.

  The girls filed out one by one, pretty much ignoring Haleigh on their way. Such was the life of a teacher. You weren’t appreciated until a grade was on the line.

  Left on their own, Haleigh arched an eyebrow. “I’m sorry. I should have asked you to bring headshots and left time for a signing.”

  “Shut up.” He shook his head, but that only gave her a better glimpse of his pink ears. “They’re a good bunch. And their idea? Brilliant.”

  Now that was something she understood and could agree on. The girls were building a website and app to help students find the colleges that best met an individual’s personal needs and academic goals. As an added bonus, it would do a scholarship search, which would help students find some of the lesser-known, often overlooked sources for funding.

  It was a guidance counselor’s dream. In a way, it was kind of like XO On Demand. Only instead of making romantic matches, they were academic.

  “They are. And, hand to Bible, I swear I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here.”

  “You would have managed.”

  “Managed, but not thrived the way you all did today. It almost makes me wish I knew how to code.”

  “I could teach you.”

  “I said almost.” She scrunched up her nose. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

  “Oh, come on.” He nudged her lightly in the ribs. “It could be fun. The teacher becomes the student.”

  “Not gonna happen.”

  “I’ll give you a sneak peek of the XO On Demand premiere account.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “We haven’t even shown that to the board yet.”

  “Hmm . . .”

  “It’s a good deal. I could get fired for showing it to an outsider. We’re not even planning to release it until six months after the initial launch.”

  “Confidential, insider information for a product NPR’s tech analyst expects will make the competition obsolete in one year.” She tapped her lip, pretending to consider. “Still a hard no.”

  “Oh, man. Why not?”

  “Too many numbers.”

  “Says the math teacher.”

  “Math teacher, not mathematician.” Carrying an armload of empty mugs and plates, she deposited them in the busing tub. “I can guarantee you’ll never walk into my classroom late at night and see a board completely covered in numbers and figures. That’s just something you see in the movies.”

  He reached her side and dumped the remaining empty containers in the bucket. “Are you saying the wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling boards are a creation of Hollywood?”

  “Probably.”

  “I think the professors at Cal-Tech and MIT would beg to differ.”

  She shrugged. “Probably.”

  “So, you’re saying it can be done?”

  “Just not in my classroom.” She folded her arms across his chest. “At least not after the students have copied down their notes and I erase it.”

  “Ha.”

  “What can I say? I like to keep things tidy.”

  “No surprise to me, Teach. You definitely give off the anal-retentive vibe.”

  “Poor Matt Damon. He’d never get a chance to go to college from an unsolved problem on my board.”

  Ian snorted and checked the time on his Apple Watch. “What do you have going on tonight?”

  “Not a lot.” She slung her purse over shoulder, and they moved toward the door. “I’ll probably go over tomorrow’s lesson plan and watch some Netflix.”

  “Gonna eat?”

  “Of course.”

  “Want to grab something with me?”

  She froze at the door and gaped at him. “Does Amarillo Sour have a secret dinner menu for its regulars?”

  He squinted. “What? Why would you ask that?”

  “I’ve never seen you go anywhere besides the bar. I kind of assumed you lived there.”

  “You just watched me eat a muffin and a cookie at a coffee shop.”

  “Touché.” Which then begged the question, how could he still be hungry? “I could eat.”

  “Great. Want to consolidate cars or meet—” He broke off as his watch and phone buzzed. “Sorry.” Scrolling through the messages, he let out a heavy sigh. “It’s the office. The founders have called a last-minute meeting for the morning, and they want me to report on . . .” He let out a humorless laugh. “Sorry,” he said again. “I know I just invited you to dinner, but—”

  “You have to go. I get it.”

  “I’m s—”

  “It’s okay,” she assured him. “You’ve been generous enough with your time.”

  “It was fun for me.” His lips twitched. “And good for me to see the competition before they come after my job.”

  “You’ve been generous. Not just with the girls, though that was great.” There was something she had to say. Something she hadn’t even considered saying until now, which set a fresh wave of guilt over her. “Thank you for babysitting me on these dates.”

  “I’m not babysitting. It’s research; information for me to pass on to—”

  “Information I could have given you in an exit survey. What you’re doing is babysitting a freaked-out grown woman who is too scared to go out on her own.” She hesitated a moment, then going wit
h her gut, threw her arms around his neck and gave him a quick squeeze. “Thanks for your help.”

  His warm breath came out in a surprised gust, tickling her ear and sending a delightful shiver down her spine. She stepped back before he could hug her back. Before he could push her away.

  “Good luck with your meeting,” she said, hurriedly. “I’ll see you later?”

  He stared at her, like he was trying to figure out if she’d completely lost her mind. But after a moment, he nodded. “Yeah. I’ll see you later.”

  Cheeks burning yet again, she practically ran to her car. She didn’t let out her breath until she turned out of the parking lot. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she caught his form standing where she’d left him, staring after. He probably thought she was nuts. He wouldn’t be the first person.

  Her breath hitched, and that old familiar weight fell on her chest. Great. Just great. She was no better than her students. Except she was worse. Not only had she developed a crush on Ian Henning, but she’d made it weird by hugging him.

  That wasn’t all she’d wanted to do. It wasn’t the first time she’d wanted to kiss him. But it had been the first time she’d wanted to ask him to forget the rest of this grand experiment and be her date to the reunion for real. It wouldn’t do either of them much good for her to have thoughts like that. They were each a means to an end for each other. She’d do well to remember that.

  Chapter Nine

  A week later—and fast approaching the goal of a dozen meetups—Ian was pleased to report that Haleigh had the first-date routine down well. As he’d always suspected, her bad first date with Patrick had more to do with nerves than stupidity or a lack of social skills. Once she got over being terrified, she was fun to be around.

  Since she’d shown such improvement, this evening Ian claimed a seat at the bar farther away. He was still close enough if she needed anything, but there was enough distance for privacy. It was a necessary step. They’d spent a lot of time together the past couple of weeks—more if he factored in the hours of texting in between. He knew she was a lot more capable than she believed.