Jennifer Lohmann - Dating By Numbers

“Do you need a fresh cup of coffee?” Marsie asked.

Beck nodded. “And tissues.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” It broke Marsie’s heart to see her friend curl up on the couch again, protecting herself from the grizzly bears of the world.

She got them both another cup of coffee and stuck a box of tissues under her arm. Beck drank about half her cup of coffee as soon as Marsie handed it to her.

“Thank you,” Beck said.

“It’s what friends are for.” The only sounds in the living room were the ticktock of the clock and the slurping of hot coffee until Marsie asked, “Why didn’t you say anything about this earlier?”

“You were starting online dating again and so into it with your research and your beta testing. I didn’t want to sound like a downer by complaining about my marriage.”

“I’m your friend. I want to hear about your downers.”

Beck’s head fell against the back of the couch. “God, now I’m failing at being a friend, too.” Her tone was light and she had a slight smile on her face, but Marsie could tell that her friend believed the nonsense she was spouting.

“You’re not failing at being a friend, but I hope you feel like you can talk to me. No matter what, we’re here for each other.”

Beck set her now empty cup on the coffee table and leaned against Marsie. “Always.”

* * *

BACK AT WORK on Monday, Marsie checked the clock on her computer. She was supposed to meet with the vice president in charge of research in twenty minutes. She’d prepare for the meeting, but she didn’t know what it was about, other than a new grant application. All her emails had been either replied to or sorted into the appropriate folders and...

And she was coming up with excuses to justify checking her online dating profile. She’d spent all of Sunday with Beck, goofing off and talking about everything under the sun that didn’t have a penis attached to it. Late Sunday afternoon a notification had shown up on her phone that there was a message. Marsie had ignored it.

But now that little icon at the top of her phone was calling her name.

Marsie spun around in her chair, away from her computer. Checking her profile on her work computer was a mistake she would only make once. She dug her phone out of her purse and set it on her desk. Then she took a deep breath and tapped the app.

“Are you looking at what I think you’re looking at?” Jason’s voice asked from her doorway.

“What?” She exhaled all her frustration and embarrassment into the word, inwardly cursing the universe. “Do you have a tap into my computer?”

He raised one finger and one eyebrow. “If I did, I’d have to have a tap on your phone, too.” He smiled, all charm and ease. “How’s online dating going?”

“Fine.” That was close to the actual truth of, I don’t know. Or, I’m afraid to look.

No. She swallowed her sigh. I don’t know would have been a true enough answer. She hadn’t wanted to do this alone, and Beck wasn’t able to go along for the ride right now.

“You don’t have a very good poker face,” he said, an amused smile dancing on his face.

“No, but I’m hard to beat online,” she retorted, pleased that she had clearly caught him off guard with her answer.

“You really play poker online?”

“Played,” she corrected. “The heydays of online poker winning are over, but it’s just a math game. And I’m good at math.”

He nodded, clearly still reeling from the shock of imagining her playing online poker but also, just as clearly, impressed. “So why economics instead of math?”

“My dad’s influence. I had this idea to follow in his footsteps.” Follow in his footsteps. Win his approval. Same thing.

“And, are you?”

She gave her head a slight shake. “Not really. I mean, I’m an economist too, but my mom’s influence means I’m here, studying health and the economy rather than making more money somewhere else managing a hedge fund.”

The firm’s wide-ranging studies and analysis into everything, including pharmaceuticals, economic policy and the environment, were aimed at improving social conditions around the world. A lofty goal that her mom approved of and father scoffed at.

As an adult, Marsie didn’t often think of that, the constant push and pull and tug from her parents. Baby boomers, both of them. They’d had this idea that love was enough to bring together their two disparate views on the world. And, if you counted that they’d made a baby who used a conservative-leaning social science to try to make the world a better place, they had brought their views of the world together perfectly.

If you considered “bring together” to mean stay married, that hadn’t happened. They’d gotten divorced when Marsie was two. Her dad had stayed in California. Her mom had run off, child in tow, to start an organic farm in Wyoming of all places. If her mom had decided to start a ranch, at least that would have made sense. But her mom didn’t believe in sense. She believed in signs and dreams and hopes.

Hopes didn’t grow enough vegetables to make money. They’d always had food to eat, and child support meant Marsie always had clothes, but she hadn’t just been the smart girl in a tiny school—she’d been the poor smart girl.

“Right. Better for me that you’re here and not at some hedge fund somewhere. You are one of the people who make my job interesting.” His teeth glinted through his easy smile.

She knew that smile, had seen him flash that smile at other people, and still it relaxed her, making her less interested in what might be happening in the dating app on her phone and what could happen if Jason sat down in one of her office chairs and leaned against her desk again.

Maybe she’d come around and sit on the edge, pull one leg up so that her skirt fell open just so...

No. Stop. Jason wasn’t tall enough. And that was only one strike against him. He was also too smooth and too charming and they worked at the same place. He didn’t have the kind of education she was looking for in a man. Or the type of career. Six strikes when only three were needed.

“Speaking of jobs, I’ve got to be on my way to one.” His voice was easy, but the twinkle in his eyes made her wonder if he knew what she was thinking.

Since he’d come to her first cubicle at this office to remove a keyboard tray she had banged her knees on, Jason had always been able to make her feel like the world under her feet wasn’t stable. Like if she moved too quickly or took a wrong step, she would fall. And she never knew what to do with that information.

There wasn’t a formula for social interaction. Not one that worked well, anyway.

“I’m going to grab a cup of coffee first,” he said. “Wanna come?”

“Sure.” She had wanted a cup before her next meeting. Plus, the world wasn’t stable when she was around Jason, but it wasn’t boring, either.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE CONFERENCE ROOM her meeting was in was always either too hot or too cold—usually too hot. Jason said he’d done everything possible to regulate the room’s temperature, including adding the slight film that covered the floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the walking trail that connected many of the buildings in this part of the park. As she shrugged out of her suit jacket, she remembered that once, when she’d been complaining about this conference room, he’d told her to convince the VP to have blinds put in. “There’s only so much you can do for temperature control in a room that’s all windows and has no trees outside to provide shade. Especially in a building this old.”

Since this was the conference room closest to her office and where she usually had meetings, she’d taken his suggestions to heart, saying things like, “Wow, the sun is making the screen hard to see. Wouldn’t it be great to have roller blinds or something to provide a little better sun block?” whenever the right people were in meetings.