The Dating Intervention: Book 1 in the Intervention Series (37 page)

She marched over to the window and took Summer’s hand to help her inside, muttering, “Delaney, I can’t believe you let her climb the fire escape. You guys are crazy.”
 

“She’s pregnant, not on her deathbed,” Delaney said. Then she regained her senses and said, “Why aren’t you heading to the interview?”
 

“I was.” Her eyes darted around the room. “I was just peeing first. And anyway, it’s not for another half-hour.”
 

“You’re lying,” Delaney said, jabbing a finger at Josie from her spot on the fire escape landing.
 

Without answering, Josie slammed the window, forcing Delaney to withdraw her arm.
She just shut me out here!
Delaney stared at Josie from the fire escape outside. Her mouth dropped open in surprise. She closed it. It dropped open again. Like a fish.

“Open this window, Josie,” she yelled. “Open it right now!”
 

Josie gave her an evil glare, then stalked out of the classroom, Summer bustling along in her wake. Thirty seconds later, Delaney heard them emerge into the parking lot below.
 

“You have to do this, Josie. Get back in there.”
 

“You can’t make me.”
 

“Seriously? You sound like one of my boys.”
 

“I’m not one of your boys, Summer.”

At this, Delaney sensed danger. She clambered down the fire escape as fast as she could to a cacophony of clanks, bangs and groans from the metal. She hoped it didn’t collapse.
 

Josie continued, “I’m your friend. And maybe this hasn’t occurred to you, but you don’t have to mother me. I’m perfectly fine without your interference.”
 

“No you’re not,” Delaney said, rushing up to them. “You’re not fine. Get in there, now. Do the damned interview and get it over with. We’ll be waiting outside.”
 

She grabbed Josie’s arm and marched her toward the front of the building, between the carved stone pillars that had seen a hundred years’ worth of principals come and go.
 

“Stop giving up on yourself. Get in there.”
 

“Fine!” Josie shrieked, jerking her arm loose and then smoothing her suit. “Fine.”
 

She stalked into the building, the heels of her expensive alligator leather shoes clicking loudly on the original wood floors.
 

“That was close,” Summer said from behind Delaney.

“Really close,” Delaney said.
 

Summer held up a hand for a high-five. “Success,” she breathed.
 

“Success,” Delaney echoed, slapping Summer’s hand. “We did it.”

“Do you think we should blockade the doors?” Summer said. Delaney smiled.

The first time the romance of the rodeo dance stole Delaney’s heart, she was sixteen. She’d heard the music from the Mack’s Grocery parking lot when she stopped to buy milk on her way home from a babysitting job. Curiosity got the better of her, and she was standing outside the fence in a matter of seconds, leaving the milk to sweat on the roof of her car.
 

On the high school football field, cowboys in Wranglers twirled their skirt-clad, cowboy-booted women on the temporary dance floor, which was surrounded by bales of hay and covered by a red-and-white-striped awning. String lights illuminated the entire space and a band played from a stage up front.
 

Now, almost twenty years later, she’d attended the dance every year, without fail. This year, The Sweets’ appearance delivered a new, special shiver of excitement. Summer and The Sweets were setting up and Josie and Delaney stood in line at the beer counter behind a group of scantily clad young women out looking for horsemen.
 

“So the interview went well?” Delaney lifted her cowboy hat to smooth her hair.

“Don’t talk to me about it,” Josie said.
 

“Is that a yes?”
 

“It went fine, okay? Can we not talk about it?” Josie turned away and made a big show of watching Summer assemble her microphone stand.

“Geez. Fine,” Delaney said. “I’ve never gotten in trouble for being a supportive friend before.”
 

“Yes, you have. Remember that time, junior year, when I forgot my maxi pads at home and you tried to give me one in the locker room? In front of everyone? I was so embarrassed I just about blew you up.”
 

“That’s right. Amazing what being a good friend does for me.”
 

“It was fine. Thanks for asking,” Josie said and they moved up to the beer counter.
 

“I’ll get two beers,” Delaney told the server, who had leather for skin and corn kernels for teeth.
 

Beer slopped over the sides of the plastic cups as the woman slid them across the counter and Delaney and Josie each took one, sipping foam as they made their way to a vacant hay bale and sat down.
 

“Jake coming tonight?” Josie said.

“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him in a few days.” Delaney heard the edge in her voice and took a deep breath to smooth it out.
 

“Hm,” Josie said.
 

“What does that mean?”
 

“Nothing.”
 

“It means something,” Delaney said.
 

“Don’t pick a fight with me, Dee. I just said, ‘Hm.’ Let it go.”
 

“Whatever.”
 

Summer hopped off the stage and came jogging over. “Stop scowling, you two. We haven’t even started playing yet and you’re already scowling. You’re putting off bad vibes.”
 

“Sorry,” Josie said. “Delaney’s picking a fight with me.”
 

“Shut up, Josie.” Delaney elbowed her, nearly spilling her beer.

Summer rolled her eyes. “Just do me a favor and at least look like you want to be here. I’m nervous.”
 

She jogged off.
 

“Stop jogging,” Josie called after her. “You’re jostling that baby.”
 

Summer did a sound check. Delaney sipped her beer. Josie sipped hers. The line to get into the dance grew longer, which meant the rodeo performance, in the arena a few blocks over, had ended. A sea of cowboy hats in every color and material – black, tan, brown, pink and white in felt, leather, straw, sequins – filled the space under the tent.
 

Finally, The Sweets started to play, leading off with a fast, beat-heavy dancing song that made Delaney wish even harder that Jake would show up and dance with her. She wanted to check her phone, but she forced herself to leave it in her pocket. She didn’t want Josie to know how desperately she wanted to see Jake, or that she’d even noticed he hadn’t yet materialized.
 

Couples and groups of women flocked to the dance floor, spinning and jumping wildly to the beat.
 

“They sound good,” Delaney yelled to Josie.

Josie nodded. “Want to dance?”
 

She had that gleam in her eye, and Delaney remembered the first time she’d joined Josie on a dance floor. Homecoming, freshman year. Delaney had still been awkward, shy, pimply. And Josie had been exotic, smooth and filled with women’s wisdom, even at the age of fifteen. She dragged Delaney onto the floor and patiently taught her some choreographed routine that had Delaney shaking her hips and stomping her feet. It had been so much fun, and for the first time, Delaney felt somewhat confident in the dark, sultry confines of the school gym.
 

Of course, Josie still had it. They danced, holding hands, song after song. They moved close to the stage whenever they could, to give Summer a thumbs-up. When The Sweets finally took a break, Delaney and Josie ran up to the stage.
 

“So? How do we sound?” Summer asked as they embraced.

“How do you think you sound? Look at these people!”
 

Hundreds of people were still hanging out on the dance floor, waiting for the band to start up again. A group of girls chatted nearby. A couple continued to dance, singing the chorus of The Sweets’ last song. Summer looked around, took it all in.
 

Someone found a CD to fill the silence and blasted old-fashioned, twangy country music into the crowd. People covered their ears and scooted off the floor. In the melee, a crowd of rowdy guys jostled each other and one of them spilled his beer on Delaney. She looked down at her feet to see if it had gotten on her boots and bent down to wipe it off as best as she could.
 

When she glanced up at Josie and Summer, she noticed something in their body language had changed. They were looking toward the beer counter. Their heads were close together as if they were whispering. She turned around, hoping to see whatever they were looking at, but the crowd shifted, obscuring her vision.
 

“What?” she mouthed at the girls, lifting her hands.
 

***

Both Summer and Josie looked startled. Summer attempted to cover up her surprise by plastering a maniacal smile on her face and Josie shook her head, raising her eyebrows as if to say, “It’s nothing.”
 

Delaney knew something was up. Without waiting for an explanation, she turned around again and powered her way through the crowd and up to the beer counter.

She immediately wished she hadn’t.
 

There, ordering a drink, was Jake Rhoades. Snug-fitting jeans, a t-shirt that showed off the muscles in his back, a look on his face like he’d just won the lottery … and his arm around the shoulders of a tiny, equally-muscled woman, whose long, glossy hair and long, slender legs made her look like a gazelle supermodel in a shampoo ad.

Brittany.

It was the girl from all the FriendZoo pictures, in all her dazzling real-life glory.

It took Delaney no more than a half-second to take in the scene and then she fled. She ran back to the dance floor, where Summer and Josie stood perfectly still, a stark contrast to the movement that swirled around them. Rather than revealing the sick feeling churning in her stomach, Delaney grabbed their hands and started dancing.
 

“It’s fine!” she told them. “No big deal!”
 

Despite that proclamation, she spent the rest of their time at the rodeo dance trying to catch a glimpse of Jake and Ms. Gazelle of the Shiny Hair. At one point she saw them cozied up on a hay bale, both of them cracking up like they’d never heard anything funnier. Later, on her fourth trip to the bathroom in a half hour, she saw Jake tug gently, affectionately, on the end of the girl’s hair. There was definitely an intimacy there, she thought, her stomach knotting.

She knew it shouldn’t bother her. After all, they’d never agreed to be exclusive. They had only been on a few dates. And they were both adults, both with healthy appetites for social …
interactions
. It was only natural he’d kept dating other people. And he’d known this particular girl before he met Delaney. She had the proof on FriendZoo.

He’d even tried to warn her, hadn’t he? Hell, she thought, she’d be dating other people if Summer and Josie hadn’t put the kaput on that.
 

This is why I always have a backup. If I had one right now, I’d be calling him.
 

A different, cruel voice in the back of her mind sneered:
Yeah, you’d be calling him, heading to his house and regretting it the next morning.
 

***

When Delaney got home, she realized she wouldn’t be calling anyone. Her phone was missing. As a little girl, she lost things all the time. Her favorite stuffed llama, Salazar, disappeared regularly.
 

“Where’s the last place you saw it?” her mom would say.
 

Together, they’d walk through what Delaney had done since waking up, coming home, or eating dinner, retracing her steps until they found Salazar. He was usually someplace obvious, like stuffed between the couch cushions or on one of the kitchen bar stools.

Once, though, he’d been in the refrigerator. Delaney had gotten herself a glass of milk and left him on the bottom shelf. When she’d gotten him out, his huge plastic eyes were cold against her cheeks.
 

Unfortunately, she thought now, her travels, even during this single evening, had taken her all over town. Most likely, her expensive phone was drowning in an outhouse at the rodeo dance. Distracted after seeing Jake with that Ms. Gazelle of the Shiny Hair, she’d put it in the back pocket of her jeans after checking again to see if he’d sent her a message. And then, the worst folly of all, she’d gone to the bathroom. She couldn’t remember whether she’d taken it out of her pocket before entering the outhouse. How many times had she heard of this happening?
 

Weary, she went about her evening chores: making the coffee, feeding Pixie, watering her plants. She noticed the fern Camille had given her was starting to droop. She changed into her pajamas and brushed her teeth. She didn’t even bother to stop herself from wondering what Jake was doing right now.

Was he with Ms. Gazelle of the Shiny Hair? Were they just getting back to his place for a nightcap? Were they dancing to quiet jazz music in his living room? Was he kissing her, just as he’d kissed Delaney? Speaking of kissing, why had he made out with her only the one time? Why hadn’t he tried harder to get her in bed?
 

Actually, speaking of that, she was offended. Why
hadn’t
he? Had she talked too much? Or giggled too much? Had she spent an entire evening with a toilet seat cover hanging out the back of her pants? Or was this about Jake? Maybe he had a fear of commitment. Maybe he was gay. Maybe he liked bartenders but not veterinarians.

In the middle of brushing her bottom molars, she froze.
 

What was happening here? Things had been going along fine. Great, actually. She hadn’t been questioning Jake’s motives or lack thereof. She’d been content. More than content. For the first time in a long time, Delaney Collins had been smitten, over the moon, head over heels. Until. Until Jake had taken that phone call in The Sand Witch and dashed away from their lunch date without so much as a backward glance.