The Dating Intervention: Book 1 in the Intervention Series (12 page)

“No, I’m fine. A little queasy, but otherwise fine.”

“Wait. You’re not pregnant, are you? Nausea can be the first sign of pregnancy.”
 

Delaney waved a hand, dismissive. “No, Mom. But thanks for asking.”
 

Camille shrugged one shoulder. “I ran into Summer at the market. She said you were on a date.”
 

“Is there no privacy in this town? Yes, I was on a date. With a rancher. A hog rancher. Jesse.”

“But what about the others?”
 

“What others?”
 

“Those other guys you’ve been seeing? Mark? Zorro?”
 

“Summer didn’t tell you that, too?”
 

“Tell me what?” her mother said.

Delaney took her time answering. It was embarrassing, really, and she’d already moved past it in her mind.
 

After a long silence, she finally said, “Okay. Long story short: all three of the guys I’ve been seeing dumped me last weekend.”

“All in one go?”
 

“All in one go. Yep. Practically.” Delaney threw up a hand. “So, my intrepid friends Summer and Josie have taken over my love life as a result.”
 

“Sorry to say this, honey, but it’s about damn time.”
 

“Come on, Mom.” She paused, waiting for her mother to laugh or otherwise indicate that she was joking. When no indication followed, Delaney said, “Really?”
 

“Yeah, really.”

“What is that even supposed to mean? I was doing fine.”
 

This time, Camille waited to answer. She used her straw to stir her latte. She’d always been so pretty, Delaney thought, and age hadn’t changed that. Fresh off a trip to the California coast, her mom looked happy and relaxed, her skin tan, her long gray hair pulled back in a messy bun. Her fingernails and toenails were painted a blinding shade of pink and the sandals she wore were better suited for walking on a wharf licking ice cream than they were for end-of-winter Juniper.
 

Despite the carefree outfit, though, her green eyes were intense when she finally looked into Delaney’s.
 

“You were doing fine, yes.
Fine
. But isn’t it about time you were doing better than fine? I mean, you’ve always got something going, which is good. You’re good with men. But – and I know you’re going to hate hearing this, just like I would have before I met your dad – it’s about time to stop messing around, Delaney. You aren’t getting any younger. Have you thought about your future? I mean, long-term?”
 

Annoyed, Delaney took a sip of her tea to stop herself from blurting out something retaliatory.
How long have they all been thinking this? And it’s not just Summer and Josie. It’s my mother, too.
 

“How come you never said anything about any of this?”
 

“It’s your life, Delaney. I knew you’d settle down sooner or later. Probably later.” She shrugged. “But eventually.”
 

Time to switch topics
. Delaney hated being scrutinized.
 

“They’re also making me get a new job.”

Camille set her cup down on the table. “You can’t tend bar forever. I mean, one of these days, aren’t you going to want a husband, kids, a dog? I mean, that’s what I always assumed you wanted, after watching you play house when you were little. You’re not going to want to be out all night, spending time with guys like David … what was it? Steadbaker? Oh, Steadman, that was it. Or, are you?”
 

Delaney rolled her eyes. Nope, nothing was sacred. Nothing. Summer had spilled the beans about David Steadman too.
 

“I know you love Dad,” Delaney said, “but you guys got married when you were like, twenty. I just don’t want to miss out on all the fun you’re supposed to have once you’re an adult.”
 

“Oh, I think you’ve gotten plenty of fun in, sweetheart. For the past several years, you’ve been dating two or three men at the same time, consistently. You’ve tasted all the flavors. It’s time to pick your favorite.”
 

“Wow.”
 

“Stop pouting. You’re so worried about missing out on the fun that you’re actually missing out on creating a real life for yourself. You know, I never got to do the things you’re doing. I didn’t go to college, or have my own place, or hang out with my friends for Happy Hour every week. But I don’t regret one minute of it. What I did have and still do, is a
home
. Your dad is my home. And that’s something special. Don’t miss out on the important stuff because you’re so worried about missing out on the rest of it, honey. That’s all I’m saying.”
 

“But –”
 

“Don’t ‘but,’ me. You know I’ve always told you to follow your heart. And I think, deep down, you want for yourself what your friends want for you: a steady relationship with a great guy, a good job that actually challenges you. But you’re afraid to go after something that’s actually important to you. Take a good, hard look at what you really want and then ask yourself why you haven’t pursued it. It’s time for a reality check.” Camille paused and picked her purse up off the floor. “I gotta get going, honey. I’ve got to get to the store. I promised your father a roast for dinner tonight and it needs to go in the oven early.”
 

“You didn’t even tell me about your trip.”
 

Her mother’s eyes went dreamy. “Sweetheart, it’s the beach. What is there to tell? Gorgeous sunsets, drinks on the porch every night, an ocean view from the bedroom. Lots of hot sex with your father –”
 

“Stop there. I think I get the picture.”
 

Smiling, Camille stood, stretched and picked up her cup.

“Honey, Summer and Josie care about you. They have a good idea of what’s right for you. Trust them. Give this a chance. Follow The Rules.”
 

***

See? I can follow The Rules
.
 

Delaney pulled on the soft blue sweater and clean jeans the girls had instructed her to wear on the second date.
Right down to the nighttime makeup
. Black eyeliner, smudged. Black mascara. Sparkly eye shadow. Lip gloss.

Tonight’s feature: a kindergarten teacher.
 

“A male kindergarten teacher?” Delaney whined when Summer went through the roster. “Isn’t that a little weird?”

She couldn’t tell whether it was her intuition or just plain snobbiness that stirred up her reaction.
 

“You’re being critical already,” Josie pointed out. “There are plenty of nice, normal kindergarten teachers out there, who happen to be male. It’s a noble profession and it means he likes kids. It also means he works nice hours. He won’t be gone all day, every day like my husband is. Trust me.”
 

“Fine.”

“Don’t say, ‘fine,’ like it’s your choice,” Summer said. “This is our next pick for you.”
 

“Fine.”
 

According to the girls, Craig Densmore had suggested Delaney meet him at Mama’s, Juniper’s only upscale Italian restaurant. He was waiting (and twiddling his thumbs) outside when Delaney arrived two minutes early.

Exactly as advertised, she thought: his longish brown hair curled over the back of his sweater’s turtleneck and his big brown eyes were warm when she approached him. She searched her brain for that inner voice, but for now, it was quiet. Maybe it was whispering, “reserve judgment.” She just couldn’t be sure.

“You must be Delaney,” he said. “I’m Craig. Craig Densmore. But I also answer to Mr. Densmore, or Mr. D.”
 

“Can I stick with Craig?”
 

They shook hands. He pumped hers maniacally. She felt their palms stick together.
 

“Yeah.” His voice sounded hoarse. He cleared his throat. “Sorry. I’m a bit nervous.”
 

The admission softened her.
 

“Have you been waiting long?” she asked.
 

“Ah, no. Less than an hour.”
 

“An hour? Am I late?”
 

“What? No! No, not at all.
I
just didn’t want to be late.” He wiped his clammy hands on his khakis.
 

“Oh. Okay.” Poor guy. Delaney resolved to give him a fair chance.
 

As Jesse had, Craig opened the door for Delaney. She made a mental note to put that on the rubric.
 

The dinner conversation was relatively pleasant, she thought, as the server brought them their check. Boring, but pleasant. They discussed jobs, home ownership, hobbies … the usual. He’d become a teacher in part because he was an avid mountain biker and wanted weekends and summers off. He enjoyed kids, but his real passion was photography, which he did on the side. Mountain biking provided him lots of photography opportunities, as long as he didn’t wipe out and mangle his camera. Teaching provided good benefits and regular pay and he liked it just fine. This made him slightly less weird, in Delaney’s opinion. At least he had normal hobbies and an adventurous side. It could be promising.

He ordered lamb. She winced as she watched him chew the delicate meat of the baby sheep, but remembered to stop mentally criticizing him and focused on her own food: spicy spaghetti.

Craig took her up on her offer to split the bill. She couldn’t decide whether she was relieved or disappointed.
 

“How about some mini golf?” Craig asked as they signed their credit card receipts.
 

“Mini golf? Isn’t it a little chilly for that?”
 

“They just opened this new indoor course,” he said. “Over where the roller rink used to be.”
 

“Oh. Um, sure. It’s been years since I played, but it sounds fun. Let me use the restroom real quick.”
 

In the bathroom, still life paintings of bright red flowers hung on bright yellow walls, making the bathroom look dingy even though Delaney couldn’t see any actual dirt. The grout on the floor was absolutely black, though and the toilet and sink looked grimy. She took out her phone, hung her purse on the hook on the back of the door and stood in the middle of the room, trying not to touch anything. She texted the girls:
He wants to mini golf.

Summer:
So go.
 

Josie:
Have fun.
 

Delaney:
Seriously? Isn’t it for kids?

Summer:
He wants to spend more time with you. Quit being a snob.

Josie:
Is he nice?

Delaney:
Yes.

Summer:
Is he talking about butchering?

Delaney:
No.

Josie:
Has he tried to have sex with you?

Delaney:
No.

Summer:
Has he talked about sex?

Delaney:
No.

Josie:
Is he creepy?

Delaney:
No.

Summer:
Has he asked you to look at his feet?
 

Delaney:
No.

Josie:
Haha

Delaney:
Haha. Ha.

Summer:
Are you having fun?

Delaney:
So-so
.

Josie:
Go golfing.

Summer:
But no holes-in-one, ok? Hahaha.

Delaney:
Fine. I’ll go.

Summer:
There she goes with the fine again.
 

Josie:
Seriously, Dee. Stop with the fine.
 

Summer:
Have fun.
 

Josie:
“Fine guys. If you’re going to make me.”

Delaney:
Shut up, Josie.
 

***

Orbit Golf was packed. Teenagers, determined to do well without actually looking like they were trying, milled around in the black light, their teeth glowing every time they spoke. Delaney and Craig stood in the doorway for a few seconds, admiring the fluorescent planets, moons and aliens painted on the walls. The course, which was outlined in multi-colored fluorescent duct tape, looked more complicated than Delaney had expected. She immediately noticed a tiny bridge on Hole Twelve and a tight left turn on Hole Seven.
 

“This looks cool,” she admitted.
 

“You’re goin’ down,” Craig said. “C’mon. Let’s get some balls.”
 

He hurried off. She thought she heard a nervous chuckle. Was he chuckling about getting balls, or chuckling with excitement about golfing?
 

Delaney wanted to shrivel up and hide under the counter when Craig said to the greasy-haired teenage employee, “I’ve already got two balls but I need two more.”
 

In a stage whisper, he added, “Can’t play golf with the two I have.”
 

Is he for real?
She and the kid behind the counter exchanged a quick glance. The kid grabbed a couple of balls and set them down in front of Craig.

Give him the benefit of the doubt
, Delaney reminded herself. She grabbed the blue ball, hoping to prevent him from making jokes about blue balls. “Shall we?”

When they arrived at the first hole and had to wait for a group of kids to finish their turn, Craig stuck his golf club out in front of himself and said, “Check out my club, Delaney. It’s a powerhouse.”
 

She turned away to dissuade him from making further jokes, but he didn’t stop there.
 

“Want to hold my ball?” he asked, holding his glowing red golf ball out in his palm, twirling it suggestively.
 

“I’ve got mine, thanks.”
 

“Ah, you’re just a one-ball kind of girl, huh?”
 

When someone made a wild putt, Craig shouted, “Ball on the loose! You’d better learn now, you young guns! Get your balls under control, fellas!”
 

Every time he made a joke, he turned to Delaney, eyebrows raised, waiting for feedback.