The Late Bloomer's Road to Love Read online

  “Well, if he’s as cute as you say—” Johanna began, leaving her sentence hanging.

  “I did not say that he was all that cute,” Rachel protested.

  Johanna smiled knowingly. “I read between the lines,” she said with a broad wink. “And your father already likes him.”

  “I didn’t say that—exactly,” Rachel said. She was beginning to feel hemmed in. Johanna was the only person who could do that to her.

  “I know your dad. If George didn’t throw this Wyatt out on his ear within half an hour, that’s a sign that he likes the guy.”

  “Be that as it may, I still don’t have the time for this,” Rachel insisted.

  Johanna shook her head at the protest. “Remember that sixty years from now as you’re sitting on some porch, rocking back and forth and wondering just what ‘might have been.’”

  Okay, enough was enough. She’d been polite long enough. “Any other cheerful words you want to share, Johanna?”

  “Not at the moment, but I think I made my point.” Walking up to Rachel, she patted her on the shoulder. “You think about that for now and we’ll talk later after the lunch crowd goes.”

  Rachel said nothing, but she knew that after the lunch crowd dispersed, she would be busy getting ready for the dinner crowd, which was almost always even larger. Maybe Johanna would forget all about this conversation by the time the day was over.

  At least she could hope.

  Chapter Five

  Rachel was sitting at what she had always regarded as her father’s desk in the small cubbyhole of an office. When she had initially taken over her father’s duties, she had found the office to be in complete turmoil. Everywhere she’d looked, things were in disarray.

  There was no question that her father was a really great restaurateur, but as far as being able to keep track of filing, or being able to find anything within that small area, it was nothing if not an exercise in complete futility.

  The first thing she had done on that sad, earthshaking day was to organize the chaos. It took her more than three days, but she’d managed to finally create order.

  At this point, she knew where everything was and could easily lay her hands on anything she needed to keep the place running smoothly.

  However, that still didn’t stop her from feeling exhausted, like a marathon runner in the middle of her third race of the day.

  Right now she was doing her weekly inventory. It kept her on her toes. She made a point of ensuring that everything that was being offered on the menu would continue to be in supply. She had made a vow to herself that no one who came to eat at the restaurant would ever hear the words “I’m sorry but we seem to be all out of that.”

  Engrossed in reviewing all the items she had noted when she had gone into the supply closet, Rachel didn’t hear the knock on the office door. It was only when Johanna knocked a little more loudly the second time, and then cleared her throat, that Rachel finally heard her. Startled, she looked up.

  “Sorry, I was just trying to decide if we needed to order more potatoes for next week, or if our usual number will see us through,” she explained.

  When she finally looked more intently at Johanna, she saw that the woman had a really wide smile on her face. Rachel instantly felt her stomach tightening. She immediately thought of her father. “My father’s here, isn’t he?”

  It would be just like him to pop up again. Wyatt had been working with her father for three days now. Surprisingly, her father hadn’t attempted to come in to work at the restaurant. He hadn’t even hinted about coming in, or tried to convince her that he was up to it the way he had been doing ever since he was released from the hospital.

  For three days he hadn’t said a single word about coming back, which made her all the more suspicious. She was certain that the man was up to something. It was like waiting for a shoe to drop—loudly—but for three days, it hadn’t.

  “No,” Johanna told her, “he’s not. But someone else definitely is.” The assistant manager’s words were accompanied by one of the biggest smiles Rachel could ever remember seeing on the woman’s face.

  Warning signals went off in Rachel’s head.

  She could feel herself growing very edgy. “Johanna, I’m tired. It’s been a very long day and I’ve still got studying to do when I get home. I don’t have time for riddles. Now, if there’s someone here to see me, tell me. Otherwise let me get back to making up the list for the coming week’s orders.”

  Johanna drew closer to the desk, her hazel eyes dancing merrily. “You didn’t tell me that he was this gorgeous,” the woman said with nothing short of an appreciative sigh.

  Rachel frowned, confused. “I didn’t tell you who was this gorgeous?”

  The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she realized who Johanna had to be talking about. The woman had the same wicked smile on her face that she’d had before when she’d grilled her about Wyatt.

  Rachel was instantly on her feet. “He’s here?” she cried, stunned. The next question that occurred to her was: Why? Why was Wyatt here? Had something happened to her father?

  She glanced at her watch. Wyatt should have been finished with the therapy session a long time ago. What was he doing here?

  “Oh, he is definitely here,” Johanna said breathily. “Unless of course one of the women who have been eyeing him hungrily when he walked in decided to throw him into a sack and run off with him.” There was now a wicked glint in her eyes.

  Rachel stared at the assistant manager. “I’ve never known you to exaggerate before now, Johanna,” she said, caught utterly off guard.

  The naughty look in Johanna’s eyes only grew more pronounced. “Oh, but I’m not,” she replied.

  Rachel didn’t bother saying anything else. It was obvious that the woman was clearly mesmerized by her father’s physical therapist. Instead, she just moved past Johanna and walked out into the restaurant proper.

  Rachel saw the man almost immediately.

  Johanna was right, she thought. Even from this distance, there was no denying that Wyatt Watson was immensely captivating.

  He’s not captivating, she chided herself. He’s your father’s physical therapist and he’s totally out of place here.

  Rachel strode toward him just as Wyatt turned around to look in her direction. Their eyes met and she could have sworn there were instant sparks going off.

  She had to stop listening to Johanna.

  Wyatt, meanwhile, lost no time in cutting short the distance between them. “I hope you don’t mind my coming in this way.”

  Rachel hardly heard him. Her mind was filling up with all sorts of thoughts that were creating awful scenarios in her head.

  “Is my father all right? Did he have another attack?” she cried breathlessly, really afraid of what she might hear in response.

  Wyatt saw that she was clearly shaken. He felt an instant stab of guilt that he might have inadvertently caused that reaction in her. He hadn’t meant to add to the burden Rachel was already carrying.

  “No, he’s fine. Really,” Wyatt assured her quickly. “When I left, your father’s friend Rick had come over to spend some time with him.” He smiled at her reassuringly. “Your father was showing Rick some of the exercises I had him do earlier this week.”

  Rachel was still looking at him uneasily. “Then my father’s all right?” she asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  Convinced that the man wouldn’t lie to her when it would be so easy a thing to check out, Rachel breathed out a deep sigh of relief.

  There wasn’t anything wrong.

  And then she stared at the physical therapist. If everything was all right, then why was Wyatt here?

  She couldn’t find a polite way to word her question, so she just plowed right into it. “Um, if you don’t mind my asking, just why are you here?”

 
Rather than blurt out an answer, Wyatt looked around the area. “Would you mind if I sat down at a table? I’ve been on my feet all day.”

  She hadn’t even thought of that. Where were her manners? “Oh, I’m sorry. Please, follow me,” she said, and turning on her heel, led Wyatt to a small, out-of-the-way booth. “Would you like something to eat? We’ve got the best lasagna in the state, even if I do say so myself.”

  “I’m sure you do,” Wyatt answered. “But I would just like a cup of coffee if you don’t mind.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked. “It really is very good. It’s my dad’s secret recipe. My grandmother made quite a name for herself in Palermo making that lasagna.”

  Wyatt flashed her an extremely tired smile. Rachel instantly found herself thinking that the man definitely looked like she felt—except that she still had several hours of schoolwork to do after her work at the restaurant. Wyatt probably had a hopeful girlfriend waiting for him once he left—or maybe there was even a wife expecting him at home.

  At that moment, it occurred to Rachel that she knew next to nothing about this man who was effectively putting her father together. All she knew was that Wyatt had certainly done a really nice job with her father, as a physical therapist.

  That, and the fact that her father did seem to genuinely like Wyatt. In her opinion, that said a great deal.

  “Maybe some other time,” Wyatt told her politely. “Right now, I just want to get to the reason I’m here and then leave you to your work. The coffee is to keep me from falling on my face,” he explained in case she was wondering about that.

  Seeing one of the servers go by, Rachel raised her hand and called to the petite blonde. “Virginia, please bring one espresso for the gentleman here.”

  “Espresso?” Wyatt questioned a little uncertainly. “I just want coffee.”

  She flashed a quick smile at him. “If you want to stay awake, I promise you that espresso will do the trick. You won’t be falling on your face even if you wanted to.”

  “I suppose this way I won’t have to worry about driving home,” Wyatt said, turning the idea over in his head.

  Rachel laughed softly. “You might have to worry about being able to fall asleep once you get home,” she cautioned with a smile. “You should drink it slowly if you’re not used to it. The espresso might have you feel as if you’re moving several inches off the ground.”

  “Your father didn’t mention that you had a tendency to exaggerate,” Wyatt told her.

  She smiled as she looked into his eyes.

  Blue.

  They were electric-blue, she realized. And completely hypnotic.

  She made herself look away before she began to drown in them.

  “That’s because I don’t,” she told him. “My dad’s the dreamer, I’m not. I have always been the practical, grounded one.”

  Seeing Virginia approach with a single serving of espresso in a black demitasse cup, Rachel momentarily glanced at Wyatt. “Looks like your coffee has arrived.”

  Wyatt caught a whiff of the brew. “Smells strong,” he commented.

  Rachel grinned.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked, confused.

  “You’re lucky it’s not doing push-ups,” she said.

  He decided that he had better get the inky dark liquid into his system before he started talking and making no sense. He had been up almost around the clock and he thought that Rachel needed to hear this while he was still coherent.

  Taking a sip, he felt as if every fiber in his body suddenly stood at attention. The liquid was hot and bitter as it went down.

  Rachel watched him as he drank. “So? What do you think?”

  “I’m surprised you don’t serve this with a knife and fork,” he said. He paused as the drink slowly undulated its way down through his system.

  “It’s not that bad,” she told him.

  “I didn’t say it was bad, just kind of thick,” he clarified. “Really thick, but good,” he agreed after another sip. “It kind of grows on you.”

  She smiled, remembering that she had said the same thing the first time she sampled the dark brew. Except she had added, “Like fungus.”

  He laughed when she recalled her comment. Rachel found herself thinking that he had a really nice, hearty sound that enveloped her like a warm hug. Caught by surprise, she allowed herself to enjoy it—but just for a moment.

  Wyatt sipped the coffee again, then placed the cup back in its saucer. At this point, the small cup was close to empty. It had only been a small amount, but he felt as if he was really wired.

  “Why aren’t you having any?” he asked.

  Not wanting to launch into any explanations, she merely said, “I’ll have mine a little later, when I go home.”

  Wyatt glanced at his watch. That would be pretty late, he estimated. He would have thought she’d want to experience the lift now, while she was working.

  “Won’t that keep you up?” he asked. He wasn’t sure if the tiny cup he’d just had wouldn’t wind up doing the same thing to him, since this was a totally new sensation for him.

  She smiled wearily, more to herself than at Wyatt. “That’s the idea,” she replied.

  He could only think of one reason for that. “Big date?” he asked, then immediately withdrew his question. “Sorry, none of my business.”

  Wyatt figured that it was the polite thing to say, although he did find himself wondering about this dynamo who had taken over her father’s business at the drop of a hat. Someone else might have just opted to sell rather than change her life around to keep her father’s restaurant going.

  “No, it’s not,” Rachel agreed, although she was surprised he said it so readily. “But in the interest of being polite, I’ll say my drinking espresso has nothing to do with a big date—or even a little one. Unless you think of online classes as a date.”

  A light went off in Wyatt’s head as he remembered a pertinent detail. “Oh, that’s right. Your dad mentioned something like that to me. Mainly, though, he talked about how guilty he felt that you had put your whole life on hold just for him.”

  Rachel closed her eyes, searching for patience. Wyatt caught himself wondering if she closed her eyes like that when she was kissed. The next second he roused himself. That wasn’t the kind of thought he should be having—at least, not at this point.

  “He has nothing to feel guilty about,” Rachel insisted. “I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I had gone off to college while my father was lying in a hospital bed. If he has anything to feel guilty about, it’s for being such a good father that he left me no choice but to stay to make sure he was on the road to recovery.”

  She watched the physical therapist as she allowed herself to share something personal with the man. Who knew, maybe it would even help Wyatt understand her father more clearly.

  “If I had left for school, everything would have crumbled and gone to hell in the proverbial handbasket. Besides—” she gestured about “—I love this restaurant almost as much as he does. I grew up here.” A fond smile curved her lips. “My very best memories are all centered here.”

  Rachel suddenly realized that maybe she was talking too much. She pressed her lips together.

  “You said you came here for a reason,” she said, getting back to her initial question. “What did you want to see me about?”

  Wyatt smiled, slightly embarrassed that he had gotten so off topic. “Sorry, this liquid brew just seemed to chase everything else out of my head. I wanted to talk to you about your father.”

  She did her best not to sigh, but she did brace herself, thinking that she probably wasn’t going to like wherever this was going. She loved him dearly, but that didn’t change the fact that her father had a tendency to be very trying.

  “Okay, just give it to me straight. What has he done?” Then, before Wyatt could an
swer, she quickly launched into an apology. “If my dad insulted you in any way, he really didn’t mean it.”

  She moved in a little closer without realizing it—although Wyatt did. He liked the closer proximity.

  “To be honest, out of all the physical therapists he’s had,” Rachel went on, “you have turned out to be the best one by far. And that’s not just me saying it. He sings your praises every night the moment I drag myself into the house.”

  “Well, I like him, too,” Wyatt told her. “Which is why I agreed to be his go-between.”

  She didn’t understand. “Go-between?”

  Wyatt nodded. “Your father wanted me to talk to you. He didn’t exactly say as much, but I did get that distinct impression.”

  Well, this had certainly taken an unusual turn, Rachel couldn’t help thinking. “Talk to me about what?” she asked Wyatt cautiously.

  “About his coming back to work almost full-time.”

  Chapter Six

  Rachel looked at Wyatt. She was stunned and admittedly somewhat disappointed over what he had just said.

  So this was why the physical therapist had come looking for her.

  “I see,” she murmured, nodding her head. Her eyes narrowed. “So what did he promise you?” Rachel asked.

  Wyatt had no idea what she was talking about. “Excuse me?”

  “What did my father promise you if you could convince me to let him come back to work at the restaurant?”

  He still didn’t understand why Rachel would ask something like that. He wasn’t in the habit of taking bribes. “He didn’t promise me anything,” Wyatt informed her.

  “Oh, so you expect me to believe that you came here to ask for something that my father has been trying to get me to agree to ever since he could get out of his hospital bed?”

  She could feel anger rising within her chest and struggled to keep it in check. Yelling at the man wouldn’t accomplish anything.

  “Well,” Wyatt continued in a calm voice despite the fact that he had seen her eyes flash, “I do know how important the restaurant is to your father—we did spend a lot of time talking about it during his sessions. And I really think that returning to the restaurant would be important to his mental well-being. I told him that it was a possible goal as long as he kept up with the exercise program I’ve put together for him.”