The Late Bloomer's Road to Love Page 8

  * * *

  Wyatt had promised to stop by and see his mother, so he took a detour on his way home. Ariel Watson had called earlier to say that she had wrenched her back. Short on details when he asked for them, all she had said was that she wanted him to suggest a few physical therapy exercises she could try.

  He had to admit that he was somewhat suspicious about the whole thing. He had never known his mother to say anything positive about his chosen vocation. But despite his doubts, he felt he couldn’t very well turn his back on his mother’s request.

  Pulling up before the old 1963 building where he and his siblings had grown up, he saw that another vehicle was parked in front of the house. He recognized it immediately. The car belonged to his sister.

  Wyatt sighed. Whatever was going on, he had an uneasy feeling that he would get hit with both barrels. Part of him was sorely tempted just to turn around and drive away.

  But he told himself that would just be an out-and-out act of cowardice. Bracing himself, he parked his vehicle and forced himself to get out.

  He opened the door with his spare key and walked in, calling out, “It’s me, Mom. I’m here about your back. Is it still giving you trouble?”

  “No, but my son is,” Ariel replied, raising her voice.

  And there it is, Wyatt thought, resigning himself.

  His sister, Myra, joined in, calling out, “We’re in the living room, Wyatt.”

  He should have left when he had the chance, Wyatt thought. But he kept a smile on his face as he followed the sound of his sister’s voice and walked into the living room.

  He nodded at Myra. Although years separated them, they looked like twins, despite Myra’s decidedly blonder hair.

  He saw that his mother appeared far from pleased. Now what? he wondered. He proceeded on as if he hadn’t noticed anything. It was easier that way.

  “I take it your back is feeling better,” Wyatt said to her.

  “Yes, but my heart isn’t,” his mother informed him complainingly.

  “Sorry, Mom. You’re going to have to see a cardiologist about that and, as you never cease to remind me, I’m not that, or any other kind of a doctor, either.”

  “Mom,” his sister said, a warning note in her voice, “please don’t get on Wyatt’s case.”

  However, as usual, Ariel Watson didn’t give the impression that she was about to back down. She never failed to speak her mind and this was no exception.

  She fixed her youngest-born with a glare. “Your boss called today, asking for you.”

  That caught him off guard. He looked at his mother, trying to ascertain just what she was up to. She knew perfectly well that his situation had changed in the last six months.

  “I don’t have a boss, Mom,” Wyatt patiently reminded her.

  “Your old boss,” his mother underscored, obviously irritated and far from happy about the situation. She sighed, shaking her head, the picture of the long-suffering mother.

  “It was hard enough for me to accept you refusing to go to medical school, but for you to walk out on an established firm with excellent benefits the way you did—” Her voice trailed off for a moment as she dramatically shook her head. “What on earth were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking,” he said not for the first time, “that I wanted to start my own business because that is the only way for me to grow.” He was doing his best to remain respectful and not raise his voice. “No offense, Mom, but we’ve already been through this not once but a number of times.”

  “But we haven’t resolved it to my satisfaction,” Ariel reminded her son.

  And we never will, Wyatt thought. Not until I see things her way.

  “Mom,” Myra said, coming to her brother’s rescue. “You’re not the one who counts here. The more you push, the more Wyatt is going to ignore you and just go his own route.”

  “Not the way I’d put it, but that’s the general gist of it,” he agreed, nodding at his sister. “Now, if your back has gotten better—” He refrained from stating he figured that his mother had gotten him to come over under false pretenses, because he really didn’t want to get embroiled in a more heated argument than this was already shaping up to be. “It’s been a long day and I’d like to go home and get some well-deserved rest.”

  His sister spoke up, obviously hoping to prevent any sort of confrontation. “Since you’re already here, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  Wyatt usually got along well with everyone in his family, especially his sister, but lately, she had begun pushing a particular agenda. She was focused on fixing him up with Gloria Chase, a friend of hers who had a crush on him.

  He had met her once and she seemed perfectly nice, except for her habit of talking nonstop. The one time they had been thrown together at one of Myra’s gatherings, Gloria didn’t seem to come up for air the entire time. He really had no desire to endure that again.

  If he was looking to be paired up with anyone in the immediate future, he would have far preferred it to be with Rachel.

  The idea flashed through his mind and took root. Wyatt could feel his mouth curving as he thought about the idea.

  Suddenly realizing that Myra might just take his smile to be encouragement, Wyatt felt it best to beg off for now.

  “Could we talk about this some other time, Myra? I’m really wiped out.”

  Myra interpreted his words her own way. “Does that mean your client list is growing?”

  Wyatt grabbed at the excuse and nodded. “It is getting bigger. And I’ve been working since early this morning, so—”

  Although for the most part he got along well with Myra, he began to make his way toward the door so he could make a quick getaway.

  “This will be quick,” Myra promised, grabbing his wrist. “As you might remember, Matthew and I are celebrating our tenth wedding anniversary next Saturday,” she announced, clearly thrilled about the event, “and I just wanted to make sure that you’ll be there.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Just text me where you’re having the celebration and what time you want me to be there,” he said, turning back toward the door.

  “I will, and you don’t have to find a date. Gloria Chase would be more than thrilled to have you bring her.”

  He felt his stomach tightening. Just what he didn’t want to happen. His brain immediately searched for a way out.

  “As a matter of fact,” he said before he could think better of it, “I am seeing someone. If she’s free, I’ll be bringing her.”

  Both his mother and his sister cried, “Oh?” almost in unison as they exchanged looks.

  Ariel recovered first. She shot her son a skeptical look. “You never said anything about a girlfriend,” his mother accused.

  “You never asked,” Wyatt told her with a smile. “Besides, you know I don’t really believe in labels, Mom.”

  “But you could have told me,” Myra lamented. Then, brightening, because she did want the best for her brother, she rallied. “What’s her name? Who is she? Where did you meet?” The questions were fired at him quickly like bullets.

  Wyatt shook his head. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I wanted to be sure that this relationship—if that’s what it turns out to be—had a chance of getting off the ground before I was subjected to a recreation of a poor man’s Spanish Inquisition.”

  Ariel disregarded her son’s quip. “So do we get to meet this woman you’re in a non-relationship in?”

  Wyatt couldn’t tell if his mother was genuinely asking the question, or if she had decided that this was all just a big smoke screen and there really wasn’t anyone to meet.

  He decided to toss her a crumb, betting on the fact that Rachel had a kind heart and would bail him out when he told her what was going on.

  “I said that if she’s not busy, I’ll be bringing her to the annivers
ary celebration, so yes, with any luck, you will get to meet her,” Wyatt told his mother, hoping that put an end to this interrogation—at least temporarily.

  For her part, Myra appeared disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to pair her brother up with her friend, but the bottom line was that she was happy her brother had finally found someone. He had been so focused on work all this time, and as far as she could tell, there hadn’t been anyone in his life, at least no one serious, for a very long time.

  Too long, in her opinion.

  “I can’t wait to meet her,” Myra told her brother enthusiastically.

  “Don’t start celebrating just yet,” Ariel warned her daughter. “Wyatt may decide to call the whole thing off and come solo.” She fixed her son with a penetrating, knowing look.

  “Well, if he does, Gloria will probably come alone, so the two of them would be free to join forces,” Myra said with a smile. “Either way, my little brother isn’t going to be alone on my anniversary.” She patted his cheek. “I’ll forward you all the details. And I’ll see you next Saturday.”

  Smiling happily, Myra paused to brush her lips against his cheek.

  Wyatt nodded. “I’ll keep an eye out for your text,” he told his sister, keeping a smile on his lips even though part of him felt as if he had just stepped in quicksand and was swiftly going under.

  Feeling drained, he told himself that he needed to get out of there. Saying his goodbyes, Wyatt added, “Glad your back’s not bothering you, Mom,” and quickly went out to his car before either woman could stop him.

  As he got in behind the steering wheel, Wyatt felt somewhat stunned. How could he have let that lie escalate the way it had? He hadn’t wanted to get fixed up with Myra’s friend. He was certain that path only led to complications and hurt feelings, not to mention undoubtedly having his mother and his sister on his back.

  He had only one recourse open to him. He would have to throw himself on Rachel’s good graces.

  Either that, or come up with one hell of a plausible excuse.

  He doubted if he could come up with something that both women would buy. That meant that appealing to Rachel was his only chance.

  Chapter Nine

  Wyatt did his best not to think about it.

  After all, Myra’s anniversary was almost a full week away. A lot of things could happen within a week.

  Besides, it wasn’t as if he was afraid of asking Rachel to come with him to the celebration, but the fact remained that he and Rachel hadn’t even gone out for coffee yet, much less on a proper date. Consequently, asking her to attend something as extravagant as his sister’s tenth anniversary celebration seemed like rather a big deal.

  But he also knew that if he didn’t ask Rachel to go with him to this event, then his sister would instantly pressure him to ask Gloria. And that would only be the beginning of what Myra hoped would be a wonderful relationship. He also knew that Myra was definitely not above guilting him into asking her friend out.

  Not only that, but he could see himself faced with having to attend dinners with this Gloria woman at Myra’s house. Most likely on a regular basis.

  Wyatt could feel the noose tightening around his neck.

  Wyatt actually had nothing against his sister’s friend, but by the same token he also had nothing for her, either. Moreover, he really hated being forced into things or having his arm twisted.

  Try as he might, there just didn’t seem to be a gracious way out of this disconcerting dilemma. Wyatt’s brow furrowed as he tried to find a solution that didn’t hurt anyone’s feelings.

  There didn’t seem to be one.

  “You’re being awfully quiet,” George observed as he continued to go through his by now well-rehearsed exercise routine. “I know that it’s not like you’re Chatty Cathy or anything, but you do talk on occasion. I’ve heard you,” he said with a chuckle.

  Snapping out of his mental reverie, Wyatt eyed his patient. He was not familiar with the term the man had just used.

  “Chatty Cathy?” he repeated.

  George smiled, remembering. “That was a doll little girls played with years ago. You pulled a string and the doll would talk in a high-pitched voice. Usually saying something either annoying or pretty irritating. I don’t think that the doll lasted all that long on the market.”

  “And I remind you of an annoying doll?” Wyatt asked, trying to make sense out of what his patient had just said to him.

  “No, but she did talk a lot and so did you—on occasion. To be honest,” George went on, shifting sides as he began a second set of exercises, “I rather like the sound of your voice. It’s deep and resonant. And it made me feel like we were sharing a moment.”

  He was doing his best to try to get the young man to relax and talk, feeling that it was for the best if he could get Wyatt to respond to his efforts.

  George paused for a moment, then resumed his attempts to coax information out of the physical therapist.

  “Anything on your mind that you want to talk about?” the restaurateur asked Wyatt as casually as he could.

  “Just that you’ve really made a lot of progress now that you’ve set your mind to it.”

  He wasn’t buying it. George paused and looked at Wyatt pointedly. “I had a heart attack, Wyatt. I did not hit my head. I can tell when someone’s trying to pull the wool over my eyes.” He continued looking at the young man, waiting.

  Cornered, Wyatt assured his patient, “It’s nothing I can’t handle. Now that you’re doing better, let’s see about getting you to move on to more difficult exercises.”

  In response, George groaned, but the sound had more to do with that fact that Wyatt was shutting him out than it did with being given new exercises to undertake and master.

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later, as the session was winding down, George delicately inquired if Wyatt had another patient, or if perhaps he was free for the next half hour or so.

  “I’ve got about an hour before my next patient. Why?” Wyatt asked. “Do you want to extend your session?”

  George looked at him, stunned. “What? Oh, Lord, no. What you’ve got me doing now is more than enough. If I did even a couple more minutes of this, I might just fold up and expire,” Rachel’s father said with feeling. “I was just asking what your agenda was like because if you’re free, maybe you’d like to drop me off at the restaurant so I could get down to some real work.”

  He saw a skeptical look pass over Wyatt’s face. Because he had made such a big deal out of regaining his independence, George knew he had to come up with a plausible excuse to explain his supposed change of heart. So he told Wyatt, “My car’s been acting up and if I’m in a vehicle that suddenly dies, I am positive that Rachel will use that as an excuse to ground me.” Because the dubious expression on the physical therapist’s face was still there, George quickly added, “I can call a mechanic to look my car over while I’m at work.”

  “That’s a pretty specialized ask you’re making,” Wyatt marveled as he indicated that George should continue with his routine.

  “My mechanic and I have known each other for a very long time,” George told the therapist, keeping his voice sincere and hoping that the man was buying this. “And the man loves my lasagna. I know for a fact that he would do anything for it,” he added proudly.

  Wyatt nodded as he watched George continue with his exercises. In his estimation, the man was definitely losing steam. “Sure, I can drop you off,” he said.

  Busy observing his patient’s form, Wyatt missed the grin that came over George’s face.

  Always on the alert, George was doing everything he could think of to throw his daughter and his physical therapist together as often as was humanly possible. He had witnessed the spark between the two firsthand and he felt that all he had to do was be patient and keep pushing the two of them together until the light dawned on
them and they finally realized what they had going between them.

  When it came to doing something like that, George prided himself on having infinite patience.

  Initially intrigued when Maizie had recommended Wyatt for the dual position of his physical therapist as well as his future son-in-law, George was now completely convinced that the woman had made the right choice. The young man struck him as hardworking, dedicated and the absolute perfect pick for his daughter.

  Even being physically drained this way by Wyatt was definitely worth it.

  * * *

  Johanna happened to be walking by the restaurant’s front window that looked out on the parking lot. What she saw made her stop in her tracks.

  And then she smiled.

  Turning back toward Rachel, the assistant manager made her way over to the reservation desk. By the time she stopped in front of it—and Rachel—her radiant smile had gone from ear to ear.

  “What?” Rachel asked, knowing that the woman was waiting to be coaxed.

  “Well, it looks like your father has gotten himself a new chauffeur,” she said.

  Rachel glanced at her watch. Again. She’d been doing it now every several minutes for the last hour. She’d expected her father to come in to work much earlier, and had started to worry that maybe something had gone wrong, either with the exercises or with her father.

  In order not to let her imagination run away with her and to prevent herself from making noises like an annoying, paranoid daughter, she had thrown herself into overseeing the one hundred and one details involved in running a restaurant.

  Preoccupied as she was, it took her a moment to process what the assistant manager was telling her. Putting aside her projections, Rachel quickly moved toward the front of the restaurant.

  If he had a chauffeur, that meant her father was at least here. What had taken him so long? she couldn’t help wondering. And why was Johanna grinning? It didn’t make any sense.

  “What are you talking about?” Rachel asked, struggling to keep the irritation out of her voice.