one.”
“She’s going to test a computer program. Why would my granddaughter need a computer to tell her who to date?”
“She was selected?” Holly had forgotten about the trial. She’d been so busy finishing a painting that she hadn’t caught up with what her friends were doing.
“She says it is the way of the modern world. What’s wrong with talking? When did that ever become old-fashioned?”
“I guess she wants to meet someone different.”
Nick grunted. “Mia needs a good Greek boy. I showed her a picture of my friend’s grandson. Was she interested? No. She wants to find someone who’s fun. What has fun got to do with anything?”
Mia walked into the warehouse. “Are you talking about me, granddad?”
“Tell Holly about your computer program.”
“We’ve been accepted. Jefferson Technology emailed us the full questionnaire two days ago. I sent mine off last night.”
Holly sighed. “I agree with Nick. There’s no way a computer program will find someone special for you. Are you sure they’re not asking for money? It could be a scam.”
“It isn’t.” Mia passed the painting she was holding to her granddad. “Claire called the company’s head office. It’s totally legitimate.”
Nick shook his head. “I will speak to this company’s head office if my little girl’s heart gets broken. You bring your man to see me, Mia. Your papouli will tell you if he is a good match.”
Holly glanced between Mia and her grandfather. They both had the same stubborn look on their faces. “How about we hang these paintings, Nick? Mia can make us a cup of coffee to go with your muffins.”
“I will hang the paintings. You talk to Mia. She has no common sense between her ears.” With his last words echoing around the warehouse, Nick walked stiffly toward the back of the room.
“I need double strength coffee,” Mia said quietly. “Do you think he’ll ever understand why I’m using the app?”
“Only if you find a husband. And if the love of your life is Greek, he’ll think it’s amazing.”
“How many Greek men do you know in Bozeman?”
“One,” Holly laughed.
“Exactly. From granddad’s point of view, no one’s ever going to be good enough for me.”
“He might surprise you.”
Mia opened the bag of muffins that her grandfather had left on the table. “I don’t think so.”
***
Daniel pointed to his computer screen. “What were you thinking?” he asked Blake, who’d returned after a week in New York. “There’s no way I’m going to date an artist. She looks like a hippy from the sixties.”
Blake didn’t bother looking at Daniel’s computer. “I didn’t match you with her. The Crazy Love app did.”
“Your app needs work,” Daniel muttered.
“That’s why you’re helping me. What happened to not judging a book by its cover?”
“There was no judging involved. No one except an artist would wear a dress with bright orange and pink flowers all over it.” Daniel didn’t bother to mention the headscarf, big plastic jewelry, or the halo of curly red hair shining brighter than the woman’s dress.
“At least she’s not pretending to be someone she isn’t. You wanted to meet a woman who was authentic. You can’t get more authentic than Holly Miller.”
Daniel had spent more time than he wanted to admit looking at Holly’s profile. For some strange reason, Blake’s computer program had matched him with someone who was everything he wasn’t looking for. She was supposed to be a professional artist, but he couldn’t find any information about her.
He’d started looking for her website or Facebook page. He couldn’t find any exhibition listings, gallery notices or professional associations she might belong to. Either she avoided the Internet like the plague or she wasn’t the person her profile said she was.
Daniel closed her file. He might not appreciate what she did for a living, but he couldn’t ignore her flashing blue eyes or the grin
“She’s going to test a computer program. Why would my granddaughter need a computer to tell her who to date?”
“She was selected?” Holly had forgotten about the trial. She’d been so busy finishing a painting that she hadn’t caught up with what her friends were doing.
“She says it is the way of the modern world. What’s wrong with talking? When did that ever become old-fashioned?”
“I guess she wants to meet someone different.”
Nick grunted. “Mia needs a good Greek boy. I showed her a picture of my friend’s grandson. Was she interested? No. She wants to find someone who’s fun. What has fun got to do with anything?”
Mia walked into the warehouse. “Are you talking about me, granddad?”
“Tell Holly about your computer program.”
“We’ve been accepted. Jefferson Technology emailed us the full questionnaire two days ago. I sent mine off last night.”
Holly sighed. “I agree with Nick. There’s no way a computer program will find someone special for you. Are you sure they’re not asking for money? It could be a scam.”
“It isn’t.” Mia passed the painting she was holding to her granddad. “Claire called the company’s head office. It’s totally legitimate.”
Nick shook his head. “I will speak to this company’s head office if my little girl’s heart gets broken. You bring your man to see me, Mia. Your papouli will tell you if he is a good match.”
Holly glanced between Mia and her grandfather. They both had the same stubborn look on their faces. “How about we hang these paintings, Nick? Mia can make us a cup of coffee to go with your muffins.”
“I will hang the paintings. You talk to Mia. She has no common sense between her ears.” With his last words echoing around the warehouse, Nick walked stiffly toward the back of the room.
“I need double strength coffee,” Mia said quietly. “Do you think he’ll ever understand why I’m using the app?”
“Only if you find a husband. And if the love of your life is Greek, he’ll think it’s amazing.”
“How many Greek men do you know in Bozeman?”
“One,” Holly laughed.
“Exactly. From granddad’s point of view, no one’s ever going to be good enough for me.”
“He might surprise you.”
Mia opened the bag of muffins that her grandfather had left on the table. “I don’t think so.”
***
Daniel pointed to his computer screen. “What were you thinking?” he asked Blake, who’d returned after a week in New York. “There’s no way I’m going to date an artist. She looks like a hippy from the sixties.”
Blake didn’t bother looking at Daniel’s computer. “I didn’t match you with her. The Crazy Love app did.”
“Your app needs work,” Daniel muttered.
“That’s why you’re helping me. What happened to not judging a book by its cover?”
“There was no judging involved. No one except an artist would wear a dress with bright orange and pink flowers all over it.” Daniel didn’t bother to mention the headscarf, big plastic jewelry, or the halo of curly red hair shining brighter than the woman’s dress.
“At least she’s not pretending to be someone she isn’t. You wanted to meet a woman who was authentic. You can’t get more authentic than Holly Miller.”
Daniel had spent more time than he wanted to admit looking at Holly’s profile. For some strange reason, Blake’s computer program had matched him with someone who was everything he wasn’t looking for. She was supposed to be a professional artist, but he couldn’t find any information about her.
He’d started looking for her website or Facebook page. He couldn’t find any exhibition listings, gallery notices or professional associations she might belong to. Either she avoided the Internet like the plague or she wasn’t the person her profile said she was.
Daniel closed her file. He might not appreciate what she did for a living, but he couldn’t ignore her flashing blue eyes or the grin
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