Excerpt

Chapter 1

“You’re here to make sure I don’t get drunk. Remember that. I’ve got freshman algebra lectures to write.” Celine Murphy considered her glass of sauvignon blanc. If she had another three or four, she might actually feel better, but she knew that feeling wouldn’t last. And she really did have those freshman algebra lectures waiting.
She was totally, thoroughly furious. And to make things worse, the person responsible for making her furious wasn’t nearby where she could yell at him. Or possibly do something beyond yelling.
Bonnie Buchman, her best friend and the person who was supposed to keep her sober, raised an eyebrow as she considered Celine’s glass. Bonnie was wearing vintage, as usual. This particular dress was bright pink with a head-spinning design in green and black. It probably came from one of the thrift stores on South Congress where Bonnie did most of her shopping. Celine wondered idly if she should consider changing up her own style a little. Your style isn’t the problem here.
Bonnie sighed. “Okay, I’ll remember the algebra lectures, although even if you get drunk tonight, you could still write them tomorrow. Are you ready to tell me exactly what Peter did to cause this meltdown?”
Celine shoved the wine bottle in her direction. “Pour yourself a glass first. I’m not going to be the only one swilling liquor right now.”
Bonnie poured a moderate amount of sauvignon blanc into the glass in front of her. The fact they were both being moderate in their wine consumption only annoyed Celine more. This was Saturday night, dammit. She really wanted to knock back a few martinis, but the sauvignon blanc was all she had on hand. And she definitely didn’t feel like going out. Not when she was in this kind of mood. She’d probably end up clocking some bartender.
Bonnie took a quick sip. “Okay, I’ve indulged. Tell me what happened with Peter.”
“Peter.” Celine grimaced. Even his name tasted sour right now. How could she ever have let herself get involved with someone named Peter Kent Ellington? His name sounded like a pompous jerk, which was just what he was.
“He told me he’s going back to his girlfriend in Connecticut,” she said, careful not to spit out the word Connecticut, although she wanted to. “He’s decided he isn’t cut out for Texas. Or me either, apparently. He did say he was sorry. In his text.”
Bonnie put down her glass, frowning. “He texted you he was leaving?”
“Yep.” Celine swallowed more sauvignon blanc. “Real class.”
“And you’re upset that the insensitive jerk did you a favor and left?”
Celine gritted her teeth. “Of course, I’m upset about it. I mean, not about losing him or anything. But I wasted three months dating that ignoramus. I even pretended to like Succession, for God’s sake, when I despised that whole family.” Celine set her glass on the table to avoid swallowing more until she’d had a chance to calm down. Didn’t it figure that Peter Kent Ellington would love a show about plutocrats without a conscience figuring out how to gut one another? Didn’t that just fit his profile to a T?
“So it’s the time-wasting aspect that’s upsetting you?” Bonnie asked carefully. “Not any lingering feelings for Peter?”
Celine sighed. “I did have feelings for him, at least at first. Honestly, I did. He was very good looking. And he had a lot of style. Walking into a restaurant with him was always an experience—people looked at him, at the two of us. And he was…interesting in bed. Not great, mind you. But interesting.” Of course interesting wasn’t always what she wanted when it came to sex, particularly after being awakened for phone sex at two in the morning a few times because Peter had been watching something spicy.
“But these so-called ‘feelings’ didn’t include love, right?” Bonnie picked up her glass again.
Celine took another swallow of wine. She knew Bonnie was right. She hadn’t loved Peter Kent Ellington. Not one little bit. Fortunately for her. “No,” she said, putting her glass carefully down on the table. “They did not.”
“Good to know. If you’d fallen in love with that pompous ass, I’d have been seriously worried about you.” Bonnie glanced around the kitchen. “Do you have any chips or popcorn or something like that? I’m famished.”
Celine waved a hand toward the pantry. “Sure. Grab something. I could use some munchies myself.” Soaking up the alcohol was probably a good idea.
Bonnie returned with a jumbo bag of tortilla chips and a bowl of salsa. “Continue.”
“Okay, it’s not that I loved him. It’s just that…” Celine picked up a tortilla chip to chew while she ordered her thoughts.
Bonnie leaned back in her chair. Waiting.
“It’s just that he’s another one.” Celine sighed and reached for her glass again.
“Another one what?”
“Another man who seemed great and turned out to be a loser,” she said in a rush. “Why do I keep doing this time after time? I keep getting paired up with men who end up being absolutely Mr. Wrong. What is my problem anyway?” She took a breath because she felt perilously close to a sob. This was not a crying matter, except for tears of exasperation.
Bonnie dipped a chip into the salsa, frowning. “Come on, Celine. It’s not your problem, it’s theirs. And you know that at some level. You haven’t completely lost your mind. You’ve just had a run of bad luck.”
“But I chose them, Bonnie. Out of all the options I had—and I had several—I chose them. That means I do have a problem. My powers of selection must be seriously compromised.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “You want proof? Let’s review my last three boyfriends, shall we? Peter is a gold-plated jerk. And before Peter, there was Cliff.”
“I liked Cliff,” Bonne mused. “For a geologist, he was okay.”
Celine nodded, selecting another chip. “He was very okay. I liked him, too. And I thought we had something good going on. Right up until he told me he was leaving for Antarctica. For two years.”
Bonnie frowned, studying the wine in her glass. “You can’t really blame him for that, honey. That job in Antarctica represented major professional advancement. I mean if somebody offered you a couple of years at CERN, would you turn it down? Even if it meant leaving your current main squeeze so that you could go off to hobnob with the crème de la crème of European mathematicians?”
“CERN is headquartered in Switzerland. Planes fly in and out regularly. If I took off for CERN, my ‘main squeeze’ could visit. Hell, if I had a main squeeze, he’d probably love to visit Switzerland. However, there was no freakin’ way I could have headed off to Antarctica for a few days, even if I’d wanted to.” Celine slumped in her chair. “Besides, Cliff told me he didn’t expect me to wait for him when he left. I figured that was pretty close to a breakup. I mean, he was as good as telling me to date other people.”
“Which you did,” Bonnie pointed out.
“Yeah. Peter. See how well that turned out. And before Cliff there was Reg.”
“Well, yeah. Reg was a total dud.” Bonnie gave her a dry smile. “But as I recall, you kicked him out rather than vice versa.”
“Naturally, I kicked him out. He cheated on me with my cousin Carol. He was a sleaze.” Remembering just how sleazy Reg had been called for more wine.
“I assume you also let Carol know just what you thought about that.”
“Oh, yeah. Thanksgiving was really interesting that year.” Celine took a breath. “He was also drop dead gorgeous.”
“Which probably was a factor in the sleaze part of things,” Bonnie said. “Drop dead gorgeous guys can get away with being sleazy easier than the rest of us.” She lifted her arm so that her stack of Bakelite bracelets slid down her wrist with a clack.
“George is good-looking,” Celine said quickly. Bonnie’s significant other was, in fact, a very decent-looking guy, although he was pretty far from drop dead gorgeous.
“George is great looking,” Bonnie corrected. “He’s also not a sleaze. But we’re not talking about my love life.”
“Maybe we should be.” Celine sighed. “You’ve got a terrific boyfriend and you’ve had him for a couple of years, at least. Maybe you should give me lessons. I’ll bet you know how to separate the sheep from the goats.”
Bonnie shook her head. “There’s no secret to it, honey. You just keep your options open and learn to recognize the gold among the clunkers.”
“Maybe that’s my problem. Maybe I’m more drawn to the clunkers.” Celine resisted picking up her wine glass again.
“You’ve just had a run of bad luck. It happens. You need to get back in the saddle.” Bonnie’s lips crept up. “So to speak.”
Celine sighed. “I’ve been thinking…”
“About?”
“Online dating. One of the teaching assistants said MateFind was started by a mathematician.”
“And that’s your reason for choosing a dating service—that the math behind it is good?” Bonnie narrowed her eyes.
“Well, you’re a statistician. Wouldn’t you be more drawn to a service that was statistically valid than one that was just driven by chance?”
“None of the dating sites are driven by chance, kiddo. They’re all built on algorithms.” Bonnie gave her an incredulous look “Which you know very well, Celine.”
She did know that. But at this point the idea of finding someone through chance was sounding pretty good. Anything that didn’t involve her faulty judgment. “I just want something different when it comes to men. Going with my gut hasn’t been working, obviously. I’m willing to turn my choices over to an algorithm if that’s what it takes.”
Bonnie narrowed her eyes. “It’s not such a terrible idea, all in all. Lots of women use online services, and sometimes they end up with great people they wouldn’t have met otherwise.”
“Exactly.” Celine allowed herself another swallow of wine.
“But you realize you’ll still be doing the choosing,” Bonnie went on. “All the algorithm can do is narrow down the list of possibles based on the answers you give on the questionnaire. You’ll have to make the final decision about who you want to contact and who you want to meet.”
“That’s true,” Celine said. “But I’m working on it.”
“Working on what? You can’t change the algorithm.” Bonnie paused. “At least I don’t think you can. You weren’t going to try to hack into the database were you?”
“Definitely not.” Celine blew out a breath. “I’m working on ways of making things a little more hands-off, that’s all. I’ll tell you about it when I get the whole process developed.”
Bonnie shook her head. “Celine, just go with the program. Trust me. You’ll widen your source for possible dates, and that’s a good thing. And if you’re really concerned about your choices, widening the number of guys you look at would take care of it.”
“It’ll certainly take care of some of it,” Celine agreed.
Bonnie paused for a long moment, then sighed. “I’m not going to like whatever it is you come up with, am I?”
Celine took another quick sip of her wine. “Probably not, but you’ll help me anyway.”
Bonnie sighed again. “The really depressing thing is that you’re most likely right. I won’t like it, but I’ll go along with it just to see how it all turns out.”
“That’s my girl.” Celine gave her a glistening smile before she finished the last of her wine.
***
Delaney Boone rested his arms on his keyboard, watching the kid confer with his Artists and Repertoire guy. The A and R rep was supposed to help the kid figure out which numbers would go on his yet-to-be-recorded album. The album that would launch the kid as a major country act. The album that was Delaney’s reason for being in Texas.
Well, one of them, anyway.
Before he’d decided to become a country music star, the kid had been the lead in a very popular TV series, and he’d had a hit movie, too. Delaney hadn’t heard of either of them, but that didn’t mean much. He didn’t watch much TV beyond Austin City Limits and the occasional concert, and he hadn’t been to a movie in years. However, the kid was currently hot stuff among the fans in the most desirable demographic for the kid’s record label. That was the important point.
The kid had decided his status as the Next Big Thing with the fan base gave him the chops to record a country album, and he’d found a record label that agreed with him. Delaney wasn’t nearly as sure about those chops, but nobody had asked his opinion. He was there to play piano and to help the kid make the transition from actor to singer.
On one hand, Delaney had his doubts about the feasibility of that transition. On the other hand, he was being paid an incredible amount of money to accompany the kid as he worked his way through possible songs. It wasn’t what Delaney had been doing when he’d been in Nashville. There he’d been a session musician for various singers and part of Coy Blackburn’s touring band for the past four years. But being a guru for the kid was steady work, and it meant he got to stay in one place for a while. And there was also the money, which was more than decent.
Plus Austin was around a thousand miles away from Lydia. Delaney hated to admit it, but that fact had become a major point in his decision to take the gig. So one bad breakup, and you’re on your way to Austin? Yeah, pretty much.
The kid had an okay voice, a little thin but not unpleasant. He wasn’t tone deaf, and he had a basic sense of rhythm, which meant he wouldn’t mess up the songs too much. But choosing songs for his album had been heavy going.
They were currently working on “Blue Eyes Crying In the Rain,” a song that must have seemed like a simple ballad to the kid. Delaney could have told him it wasn’t. Just because Willie sang it, that didn’t mean the kid was ready to take it on. Particularly not when you considered the way his voice thinned out on the high notes.
Delaney leaned back and let his fingers move across the keys. He modulated into a little blues riff. It fit his mood better than country ballads at the moment. He’d been in Austin for six weeks now, and he’d mainly seen the inside of this studio. He’d managed to grab a couple of beers and a few tacos in his down time, but he hadn’t even had a chance to cruise down Sixth Street yet. Which was screwing up his purpose in being here.
Along with the job, he’d come to Austin to experience a different kind of scene. He loved music—it was his life, and he knew just how lucky he was to have it. But after he’d broken up with Lydia, he was pretty much done with musicians. He figured it was time to try finding someone who wasn’t working on her songwriting career or her chances of opening for whoever was topping the charts.
Plus, of course, he needed to get back out there. Sitting around obsessing over Lydia and her perfidy wasn’t healthy. He should shrug it off and get back in the pool.
Austin could be a brand new start. And it might work out if he could find some time to meet someone other than the people hanging around the kid’s recording studio.
He needed to get away long enough to meet a few girls, but that was another problem. He had no idea where normal, non-musical people hung out around the town. And he had a feeling if he hit the downtown bar scene, he’d end up with musicians again, which he’d sworn to avoid.
You could always go online.
He took another look at the kid and his A and R man. The two still seemed deep in discussion. He pulled out his phone and went to the web browser.
Over the last few days, he’d been reconsidering the whole computer dating thing, enough to have looked at a few of the dating services. Most of them seemed a little too broad in their coverage. He didn’t necessarily want to sift through an endless list of candidates.
But one site had caught his eye, although the name was awful: MateFind. Their About Us page said they were Austin-based, which might mean they’d attract more locals. The people in charge were mathematicians, which he guessed was reassuring. At least they might know something about probability, which could reduce his chances of getting matched with somebody who’d never heard of Hank Williams.
On the other hand, maybe he needed to meet a few women who had no clue about Hank or Waylon or Merle. He’d hold the line on Willie, though. A woman who’d never heard of Willie Nelson was probably too young for him anyway.
He pulled up his half-finished questionnaire and added a few more answers. They didn’t all seem relevant, let alone sane, but what did he know? He was a musician, not a mathematician. Besides, he could always shade the truth a bit on the questions he didn’t like.
He heard voices heading his way and glanced up. The kid was strolling across the rehearsal room, pulling the A and R man behind him.
“You should hear this,” the kid was saying. “It’s really great.” He turned to Delaney. “I want to show him what we’ve been working on. I think it’s ready to go, right?”
Delaney managed not to roll his eyes. Not even close. “We can give it a try.” He modulated down to a lower key. The kid had been having trouble with the high note on “Love is like a dying ember”; he’d give him a running start by pitching it a little lower. He played a quick, improvised introduction and the kid let her rip.
Delaney kept his sighs to himself. He needed to finish filling out that questionnaire, though. Distraction was becoming a much bigger goal for his life.