The Dating Intervention: Book 1 in the Intervention Series

by Hilary Dartt

  “You’re quiet tonight,” Ivy said, pouring two glasses of red for the couple who’d obviously opted for romance.

  Delaney shrugged and slid a couple of beers across the bar to two college guys who’d just come in. She’d been deep in thought for the past twenty-four hours, since Happy Hour with Summer and Josie.

  Deep in thought about Jake Rhoades – what did he do on Friday nights, why hadn’t she ever seen him at Rowdy’s and why hadn’t she asked for his number before this nonsense with Summer and Josie? – and deep in thought about The Dating Intervention.

  Dread had clung, sticky like honey, since she’d walked into Rowdy’s at six. Dread about the rules the girls had imposed, dread about all the time she was going to spend with herself during the next six weeks and dread about quitting this job.

  She’d done a lot of soul-searching during that time. Making a huge effort to be objective, she examined her life from the girls’ point of view.

  She was thirty-four, eternally single (even when she was dating at least three guys at a time) and working at a bar. She ate takeout, alone (or with her cat) every night. The most she did in the kitchen was brew coffee and throw together a PB and J. Maybe she really should be doing more with her life.

  A couple of girls came in and ordered vodka tonics. Delaney squeezed a bit of lime juice into each, slid them across the bar and watched as the girls walked onto the dance floor, drinks in hand.

  Ivy had become a good friend, but she was only twenty-two. Benjamin – who always delivered their drinks during Happy Hour – was barely twenty-one. And it was true that the men she met at Rowdy’s weren’t that great. Wasn’t it time to face the facts?

  Mark Cortez. Steamy, dreamy, totally sexy. They’d met when he’d come into Rowdy’s and asked her to explain the horse photo to him. After the initial flirtation, he spent that entire evening staring sadly into his whiskey on the rocks. He’d been depressed and clingy, lifting a hand every time she passed his spot at the bar. She’d slept with him that very night, reveling in his hunger for her, all while her intuition screamed at her that he was too needy. She’d ignored it because she liked being needed. Now she realized he’d just been lonely. Yes, he was a passionate lover. And he said he’d like to marry her. But she suspected it wasn’t her he’d wanted. It was the idea of someone to be with. Chemistry had kept them together for several months, but that was it. He’d grown to care about her, but she never felt like he was all that interested. She’d felt the same way: the sex was great, the company was good, but she didn’t really care to hear about Mark’s day at work, or his mother in Guatemala. Didn’t they both deserve more than that?

  Zachary. Brainy and adorable in his wire-rimmed glasses. They met during his first – and last – visit to Rowdy’s. He brought his brother, Eli, into the bar when Eli came from California to watch Zachary’s first poetry reading. Zachary kept telling Delaney Rowdy’s wasn’t his type of hangout. She’d been inspired to convince him it could be. To prove intellectuals could work at country western bars, she engaged in a deep, if halting, conversation every time she returned to their table to deliver their pineapple juice and Malibu rum (and what man drinks that girly shit, anyway?). Finally, he’d asked her to come home with him, challenged her to a game of chess. And again, her intuition whispered that he wasn’t quite right for her. It told her, in a bossy voice, that she was sticking around only because she liked the challenge of proving she was up to his level. And she suspected he stuck around because he felt intellectually superior. Not a good foundation for a long-lasting, healthy relationship.

  Finally, Xander walked in alone one night, in the mood for a cold one after a long day of kayaking. She was attracted to his adventurous side and quick wit.

  “Want an adventure?” she asked coyly and he followed her back to the storeroom where they had a quickie.

  That was one of about five times they’d had sex during the six months they adventure-dated. They never talked about much of anything, but enjoyed rock climbing, kayaking and hiking together. It was fun, but there was no passion. And her intuition told her she wanted passion. She ignored it for months.

  Summer and Josie were right. She needed a big change. In fact, she needed a few big changes. And Summer and Josie would probably choose people for her that she wouldn’t choose for herself.

  If nothing else, it would be an experience. What could it hurt?

  Then Jake Rhodes walked into Rowdy’s.

  Well, The Dating Intervention could hurt my autonomy.

  ***

  The setting sun outlined Jake’s unmistakably divine muscular figure in the doorway. Delaney’s mouth dropped open. Her breathing hitched. Her heart stopped. At least for a brief second. Was this the Universe’s doing? Maybe Summer and Josie were right about serendipity.

  “Thank you, Universe,” she whispered as he walked in.

  She wished as hard as she could for dating autonomy. If it were up to her, she’d be running him down this very minute, dragging him to the back room, stripping off his clothes and having her way with him. She pictured herself raking her fingers through his hair, wrapping her legs around his waist and riding him, fast and hard.

  Jake’s eyes focused on her from the moment he walked through the door until he was standing in front of her. By the time he strode up, she was practically panting and could taste coppery adrenaline at the back of her throat.

  “Delaney Collins,” he said. He looked at her as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  She thought she might drool when he leaned his elbows on the bar, showing off his sculpted, tan forearms and his rugged hands.

  “A cold beer,” she said, dragging her eyes up to meet his. “Rolling Rock.”

  “That’ll do it. How’d you know?”

  “It’s my specialty,” she said.

  “You’re good, Delaney Collins,” he drawled.

  “I am.”

  She set the beer in front of him and noticed with a great amount of relief that Ivy was taking his friends’ orders, which meant she could focus on Jake.

  “Jake Rhoades. What are you doing at Rowdy’s?”

  “Oh, you know. The usual. Hanging out, having a beer.”

  “I’ve never seen you in here before, have I?”

  “A few times. My buddies are in from Nevada and they wanted to see a real cowboy bar. So I brought them here, saw you at the bar and came right up.”

  “Oh, that’s nice.”

  That’s nice? That’s all you can think of? No wonder Summer and Josie want to take over your love life!

  “How long are they here?”

  “Just through the weekend. How long are you here?”

  “Just through closing.”

  She saw his eyes flick down to her mouth and back up to her eyes. She pictured herself leaning into him, taking his face in her hands and kissing him like crazy across the bar. A surge of heat ran down her body and settled deep in her belly. Her intuition liked that idea.

  “Well, it’s good to see you, Delaney. Real good.”

  Drinks in hand, Jake Rhoades and his friends walked away to find a table. Benjamin served them for the rest of the night.

  Why didn’t I ask for his number? she thought wildly when she saw them walking out the door just before one a.m. Why?

  Oh. Right. She’d surrendered control of all matters of her love life to Summer and Josie. If they didn’t come up with something as downright mouthwatering as Jake Rhoades, they were in trouble.

  And so was she.

  CHAPTER SIX

  When the alarm buzzed at seven a.m. Delaney shut it off and pulled the covers up to her chin. Her cat, Pixie, dove off the bed and slinked under the dresser. She glared out at Delaney, blinking her big green eyes.

  “Don’t hate me, Pix. I haven’t been awake this early on a Saturday in I don’t know how long. I want to hide, too. But it’s a big day. Or something. I’m writing a resume. And we’re having people over for dinner.”

  Delaney rubbed her ha
nds over her face, then dragged herself out of bed and to the kitchen where she set the coffee to brew while she showered.

  Last night after work, motivation and enthusiasm – and maybe a little two a.m. craziness – had her setting out her black suit. Now, it hung ominously from the frame of her closet door, the ten-year-old ghost of her one and only job-hunting experience.

  As she stepped under the shower’s steaming spray, she thought about that dismal time in her life.

  Fresh out of college and full of ambition, confidence and swagger at having finished her biology degree, Delaney Collins, twenty-four, had moved to Phoenix to look for a young person’s job in the big city. What else was there to do? Summer would soon give birth to her second child, Josie was student teaching at Juniper Elementary and jobs were scarce in Juniper – especially jobs related to biology.

  The suit was an investment, she told herself then. Looking professional would help her launch a stellar career. Needless to say, it didn’t pay off. She went to interview after interview wearing that damn suit, sometimes with a white shirt underneath, sometimes a red one, sometimes purple.

  From her hair to her earrings, her shoes to her handbag, Delaney tried every combination she could think of to maximize the appearance of professionalism and hire-ability.

  But nothing panned out, she thought now as she scrubbed her hair. She applied at a biotechnical company, an environmental testing firm, a commercial corn farm.

  With every, “I’m sorry, we’re just not hiring right now,” Delaney felt her confidence shrivel just a little more.

  Thinking about it now, all these years later, still caused a sick, nauseated feeling to roll into her stomach. Present-day Delaney pitied Delaney of the past for trying so hard only to achieve lackluster results.

  What was wrong with her? Why didn’t anyone want her? Was she destined to be jobless forever?

  She dreaded running into the people who turned her down. She saw the corn farmer in the movie theater parking lot and ducked down behind a big truck to hide from him. Unfortunately, the truck belonged to him, and he came around the driver’s side to see her crouched there.

  “Uh, just found this penny!” she said to him, straightening up. “My lucky day.”

  Then things got worse (if that was even possible).

  ***

  Delaney discovered her fiancé, Matt, had a handful of other girlfriends on the side, one of whom he’d proposed to. Now that she was thinking about it, she remembered a little voice in her head (was it her intuition again?) warning her something was going on in the weeks leading up to their breakup. Of course, she ignored it because she didn’t want it to be true.

  They went hiking on one of Phoenix’s most popular mountain trails and when they reached the peak, they stopped to take a picture.

  The sunset looks so beautiful, she thought at the time. Maybe we can use this photo for our Save the Date cards.

  Her body still flooded with the heat of embarrassment and anger at the memory. Matt pulled out his cell phone, supposedly to check the time. Then he took his camera out of his pocket. They posed, arms around each other’s waists, turning their backs to the city below, spread out like a blanket in the sparkling twilight. Romantic. Picturesque. He held the camera out in front of them. Just before he snapped the picture, his phone made a sound. Matt jumped, startled.

  He put the camera back in his pocket and took his phone back out.

  “Just gotta check the time,” he said.

  Didn’t you just do that? Delaney thought. She remained quiet, but peered over his shoulder. Before he could hide the screen, Delaney read the entire text, which was from someone named Mandy: Hey honey, what do you want to do for dinner?

  Delaney caught the guilty look on Matt’s face before he cleared his throat and put the phone away.

  “Smile,” he said then, squeezing her waist.

  A million thoughts clicked into place as Matt pressed the camera’s button.

  He can never meet up with you on Saturdays.

  He won’t help choose the wedding location or date.

  He’s been going to the bathroom every time his phone makes a noise.

  He’s suddenly very in-demand, with “meetings” five times each week.

  Infuriated, Delaney couldn’t quite wait until the shutter opened and closed before starting to shriek at him, demanding to know who Mandy was and why he was having dinner with her when he was supposed to be going to a special banquet for his dad’s company. A late spring breeze, which would typically feel warm and relaxing but now only agitated her, picked up Delaney’s hair and sent it flying around her face. The camera captured everything: Delaney’s wild hair and her evil, madwoman expression as she yelled at Matt.

  When she finished, Matt, always so matter-of-fact, said, “You’ve got to understand. It’s like having a second-string quarterback. You’ve always got to have a backup. I mean, what if something goes wrong?”

  Staring into her eyes, imploring her to comprehend, he’d put his hands on her shoulders and continued, “You’re my first string, Delaney.”

  She refused to speak to him all the way down the mountain and all the way home. As soon as she was alone in her house, she burst into tears. She took Matt’s two-carat sparkler off her finger with the intention of flushing it down the toilet, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to drop it in the bowl.

  Instead, she spent the entire evening on the couch, twirling the ring around, watching it twinkle through her tears. She felt betrayed, of course. Matt made her believe he truly cared about her. He braided her hair when it was windy. He painted her toenails. He held her hand at the sweetest times, like when they were waiting in line to buy movie tickets or when they walked to their table at a restaurant.

  All along, he’d likely been doing those same things with someone else. How could he? More than betrayed, though, she felt stupid. She actually took his affection at face value.

  Once he gave her the ring, she started planning a wedding. A wedding, for goodness’ sake. Of course, he gave her full control, telling her to choose the venue, the flowers, the silverware.

  And she did. They would celebrate their lifelong commitment under a quaint gazebo surrounded by a lush rose garden in downtown Juniper. She would hold a bouquet of red roses, and they’d feast on his favorites, rosemary salmon and oysters.

  And the silverware. It was beautiful, with swirly designs on the handles.

  For weeks, she imagined the feeling of standing in that gazebo, the scent of roses surrounding her as she looked into the eyes of the man she planned to spend the rest of her life with. The garden would be shady and cool. Summer would dab at her eyes with a tissue and Josie would try to pretend she wasn’t emotional. Delaney’s parents would sit in the front row, beaming.

  How could she have been so stupid? Why hadn’t she paid attention to all the signs?

  The day after The Discovery, Delaney had to face the impossible task of telling her parents and her friends the wedding was off. Camille called the photographer, the florist and the caterer.

  In her traumatized state, Delaney decided Matt had shown uncharacteristic wisdom. She promised her bruised ego that from then on, she would implement a back-up system of her own.

  ***

  Fiancé-less, jobless and licking her wounds, Delaney moved back to her parents’ house in Juniper. It was within walking distance of downtown and she spent more time than necessary at Rowdy’s (and argued with Summer and Josie that seven evenings per week was, in fact, necessary). One evening, the owner, Bill, approached her.

  “Miss Delaney,” he said, “You spend enough time here, you might as well get up behind that bar and make some tips. Consider tonight a trial run.”

  Tending bar was supposed to be temporary. That’s what she told herself, anyway. She applied to vet school at Juniper’s Western University and got in, selling Matt’s ring and remaining at Rowdy’s to support herself and eventually buy a house.

  Now, she’d been out of vet
school for a couple of years (okay, more than a couple) and she was still at Rowdy’s, while meanwhile, her Doctor of Veterinary Medicine degree gathered dust on the wall of her home office. Not that she minded. Not really.

  Honesty, Delaney.

  Okay, she did mind.

  What kind of a loser spends tens of thousands of dollars on vet school and then ends up working at a bar, perpetually single, for the rest of her thirties?

  Exhausted after reliving what was inarguably the most miserable time of her life, through this new lens of honesty, Delaney got out of the shower and dried off. Pixie, recovered from her shock at the sound of the alarm, wandered casually into the bathroom and perched on the edge of the bathtub. She batted at the drops coming out of the faucet, then licked the moisture off her paw.

  Delaney’s inner debate lasted no more than half a second: instead of slipping into the suit, she pulled on some sweat pants. She didn’t need to wear a suit to research online. In fact, she thought, she didn’t need this stupid suit at all. It was ugly when she bought it, with its pleats and big plastic buttons. And it was ugly now – and out of style, more than likely. She yanked the suit down, balled it up and carried it over to the trashcan, which she slammed shut on top of it.

  “There,” she said to the cat. “That’s better.”

  A few minutes later, coffee poured and a bagel toasted, she sat down at the computer to search local job listings. The job hunt had changed significantly in the past ten years. She really could research and apply without leaving her house. Which meant everyone else could, too. How on Earth was she supposed to stand out from anybody on these cattle calls?