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“Who is it?” Hutch demanded. “Is he your best one?”
“A ninety-nine percent match suggests he’s an excellent candidate. Can’t get much better than that,” she confirmed.
Hutch frowned. “I don’t know. There’s still that bad one percent. Could be a problem.”
The next sheet scrolled out of the printer. “Okay. Here come the results. And the winner is...” Her eyes widened in dismay. “Oh, dear.”
The reporter and photographer crowded closer, leaning over Willie’s shoulder. “What’s it say?” The reporter snatched the printout from Willie’s hands and frowned. “Ty Merrick. Wait a minute. Iknow that name....” Like a hound dog tripping over a hot scent, her nose twitched. She pivoted toward Ty, and Cassidy half expected her to start baying as she honed in on her prey. “Hey! That’s you.”
“Willie! What the hell have you done?” Ty snatched the paper from the reporter’s grasp. “This can’t be. There must be a mistake.”
Cassidy pinched the sheet from between his two fingers to give it a quick look-see. No doubt Ty was right and there’d been an error. These things happened, especially with mechanical oddities like computers. It probably didn’t say Ty Merrick at all. No doubt it listed a similar name like Rey Ryan or Rolds Rye or Ryan Reynolds. Hey! Agirl could dream. Or maybe it wasn’t her profile they’d run. Sure as shootin’. That’s what musthave...
She read through the paper three full times before conceding defeat. Texan rancher Ty Merrick was a ninety-nine percent ideal match for waitress Cassidy Lonigan. How that was possible, she couldn’t quite figure. But there it sat, topping a full page of bewildering statistics, glaring at her in huge, bold, underscored black print.
Crud.
“There must be a mistake,” Ty repeated. “I’m not even in the damn computer.”
Willie cleared her throat. “Actually, that’s not true. You see, we put you in there as a test case and I guess we forgot to take you out.”
“Well, match her with the runner-up.”
“There is no runner-up. Usually we have three or four close matches. But in this case, there’s only one. You.”
Hutch grinned. “Happy birthday, Mom. Ibought you him.” He pointed at Ty. “He’s your present.”
Oh, joy. “Gosh darn it! That’s wonderful. Icouldn’t be happier.” Not bad, she congratulated herself. Got that out without choking or being struck down by lightning. Amazing.
Ty cut through the people separating him from his grandmother and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Excuse us for a minute. Willie? We need to talk.”
“Can’t this wait?” she asked.
Ty regarded her through narrowed eyes. For a woman who never got flustered, his darling grandmother sure as hell looked flustered. “I’m afraid it can’t.” Cupping her elbow, he marched her across the room. The instant they were out of the reporter’s hearing, he demanded, “What the hell do you mean, the computer chose me?”
“Now, Ty, don’t get your knickers in a knot.” Her nervousness had dissipated, replaced with a more typical aggression.
Ty folded his arms across his chest and fixed his grandmother with a cool gaze. “I don’t wear knickers, Willie. Inever have.” The look she returned was every bit as cool as his. Agenetic trait, he decided dryly. And an amazing recovery, in view of her earlier agitation. “Now explain how my profile showed up in your computer.”
“You were a test case.” A thread of defensiveness shot through her voice. “We entered your data when we were first setting up the computer so we could do some trial runs. Ithought you’d been deleted.”
“But I wasn’t.”
“No.”
“Fine. Delete me now.” For the first time in his entire life, he saw Willie blush. It was quite a riveting sight considering her brash personality. Flustered and now blushing. Something was going on. And come hell or high water, he’d get to the bottom of it. “Willie—”
“I can’t delete you,” she stated bluntly.
“I’m sure there’s a computer expert out there somewhere you can hire to remove the pertinent—”
She waved his remark aside. “It just takes a push of a button.”
“Then push it.”
“I would except...” She sighed. “Ty, the reporter saw. She knows you’re Cassidy’s match. Ican’t delete you now.”
“Well, use one of the other names the computer gave you. There’s always three or four matches.”
