The Late Bloomer's Road to Love

by Marie Ferrarella

  Not standing on ceremony, Jenny was already giving Rachel a warm hug. Wyatt’s friend’s face completely lit up as she smiled.

  “Welcome to my home. You are staying for the barbecue, aren’t you?” Jenny asked as she wove her arm through Rachel’s.

  Without missing a beat, Jenny then guided her new guest into the house and, subsequently, toward the rather spacious backyard.

  “That’s the general idea,” Wyatt answered. “That’s why she brought along her offering to the barbecue.”

  “That smells heavenly,” Jenny proclaimed, taking in a long, deep breath. “What is it and where did you get it?” she asked with genuine interest.

  “It’s baked ziti,” Rachel told her. “And it’s from my father’s restaurant. He’s the one who made it.”

  Jenny stopped walking just as she moved back the sliding glass door that led into the backyard. “You’re kidding. Your father made this? Really?” she cried, visibly impressed.

  “Rachel has never been known to lie,” Wyatt told his friend.

  The way Wyatt had structured his statement, he made it sound as if they had known one another for a very long time instead of for such a short duration. She had to admit that she rather liked that. Liked the idea it conveyed. Not because she was trying to impress his friends, but because she liked the thought that he was the one who felt that way.

  Rather than say anything to Wyatt in response, Jenny called out to the other people who were gathered in her yard.

  “Hey, everybody, look who I found on my front step!” The five people immediately began calling out greetings to Wyatt as they gathered around him—as well as the woman they didn’t know yet. “This is Rachel,” Jenny informed her friends. “And she brought food to appease us until Adam can finally get the barbecue started.”

  She flashed a smile at the tall blond man she was referring to.

  “Yeah, provided he’s finally gotten the hang of lighting those ‘tricky’ little barbecue coals,” another man laughed.

  When Rachel turned to look at who was talking, her mouth promptly fell open. The man who had just made the comment looked like the exact double of the man Jenny had called “Adam.”

  She heard Wyatt laugh behind her. When she looked at him quizzically, he slipped his arm around her waist and apologized as he gave her a quick hug.

  “Sorry, you just looked really surprised,” Wyatt told her, then went on to explain, “You see, Adam and Mike are identical twins.”

  She didn’t like being caught off guard like that. “I’m sorry. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me,” she told Wyatt.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Jenny told her with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Just think about how I feel.”

  “And me,” another pretty woman, a vibrant redhead with clear-water blue eyes spoke up as she stepped forward. “I’m married to this one,” she told Rachel as she hooked her arm through Mike’s. “And in the beginning, he liked to mess with my mind and tell me he was his brother.” She smiled at Rachel. “Hi, I’m Lucy, Mike’s better half,” she declared with feeling as she introduced herself to Rachel.

  “And we’re Cindy and Gordon,” a third woman, this one with chestnut brown, shoulder-length hair and a spectacular figure, said as she and the man whose hand she was holding moved a step closer toward Rachel. “We’re originals,” Cindy told her with an amused laugh. “And you are...?” Cindy left her sentence open-ended as she looked at Rachel, waiting. It was obvious that she hadn’t caught the young woman’s name.

  “Clearly overwhelmed,” Rachel answered, looking around.

  She hadn’t meant to make the others laugh, but that wound up being the upshot of her reply and she discovered that the honest summation turned out to be a really good icebreaker.

  That, coupled with the baked ziti she had brought to the barbecue, endeared her to the others and cemented her place in the group.

  Wyatt looked on, pleased. It was obvious that he felt this was all going well.

  * * *

  Several questions and exchanges later, Rachel glanced over in his direction and saw that Wyatt was still quietly watching her. Seeing her, he leaned forward so that only she could hear him and said, “Looks like you can relax now.”

  However, Jenny overheard him. About to go get refills for a round of wine coolers, she stopped for a moment to comment, “Of course she can relax now. Why shouldn’t she be able to relax?” Jenny challenged.

  Turning toward Rachel, their hostess said, “You know, you’re the first one that Wyatt has ever brought to one of our gatherings. Half the time he’d beg off, saying he was too busy working to come. But the other half of the time he would come solo. My theory, if you ask me—”

  “No one asked, Jenny,” Wyatt told her.

  His friend continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “I think that’s a reaction to his sister, mother and at one point, his sister-in-law all trying to fix him up with their friends.” She directed a sympathetic look Wyatt’s way. “The poor guy got really worn out and just wanted to spend some quality time with his buddies,” she said, gesturing around to include the entire gathering. And then, smiling at Rachel, she said, “Welcome to the buddy circle, Rachel.”

  Rachel felt as if she had passed some sort of initiation ritual without even knowing it. And she had a feeling that this had just made Wyatt uncomfortable. She wasn’t about to sit back and let that feeling fester, so she did her best to shift the focus of attention away from Wyatt.

  “What can I do to help?” she asked, looking at Jenny.

  “Come with me,” Jenny said, looking happy at the offer.

  “Took you long enough,” the woman mouthed to Wyatt just before she walked off to the kitchen with Rachel. “But you really got a good one.”

  * * *

  Rachel had assumed from the way Wyatt had first painted the barbecue that the event would last a couple of hours, and then, winding down, it would be over.

  But if anything, the conversation only progressed and blossomed, hopping from one topic to another as naturally as a frog making its way from one lily pad to another as he made his way across a pond.

  Rachel was fascinated as well as entertained.

  At times she found that Wyatt’s friends—as well as Wyatt himself—ended each other’s sentences. Remarkable though she found it, it seemed that they were that tuned in to one another, to what each person in the group might be thinking.

  She couldn’t help envying them.

  It had to be really nice having friends like this. His friends were practically like family, she caught herself wistfully thinking.

  It certainly didn’t take much to detect the warmth that was there, both on the surface as well as just beneath it.

  She wondered if Wyatt knew how lucky he was or how rare the situation was.

  * * *

  “They like you,” Wyatt told her at one point as twilight began to wrap itself around the gathering.

  He brought over a tall, frosty glass of diet soda she had requested and set it down in front of her. Initially she had asked if there was any, because she was going to go fetch her own, but he had told her to stay put, that he would go get it for her.

  Rachel liked the way Wyatt responded to her. Liked his willingness to get up and fetch what she needed. Her mother had been like that with her father on occasion, and her father had reciprocated in kind, as well. To her that was a sign of a good relationship.

  But she herself had never been on the receiving end of that sort of behavior.

  It felt nice, she couldn’t help thinking.

  “And I like them,” Rachel answered, taking a sip of her drink.

  She wasn’t just mouthing what she felt Wyatt wanted to hear. She meant what she said. Not only that, but the way his friends seemed to accept her really heartened her. At first, she thought it might all be pretense in
order not to make any waves because they all seemed to care about Wyatt.

  But she found that they—mainly the women—were nice to her when Wyatt was elsewhere and had no way of knowing if they were treating her well or not. He was busy talking to the guys on some topic or other.

  As this continued through the evening, Rachel almost felt as if she was dreaming.

  And now Wyatt was telling her what she had suspected and hoped for the last few hours—that his friends liked her. It wasn’t the syrupy, air-kissing kind of “like” built on a foundation of falsity, which meant really less than nothing.

  This, she thought, came across like a genuine regard, built on questions and answers that had been exchanged and accumulated over the course of the day. Maybe it wasn’t rock-solid yet, but it was definitely getting there, she felt.

  “I knew you’d all hit it off,” Wyatt told her as they all sat comfortably out on the patio in the cooling evening breeze. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have brought you together. Besides, if they didn’t like you, this wouldn’t have worked out.”

  “You mean you would have dropped me if they voted me out of their club?” she asked, not entirely sure just what he was telling her.

  “No, it wasn’t anything like that,” he said, looking surprised that she would actually think that. “But we all have similar tastes, similar responses to people. If they hadn’t taken to you, it would have just made me take a closer look at us.”

  “Us,” she repeated, rolling the word around on her tongue. “Is there an ‘us’?” Rachel finally asked him.

  Was she questioning their relationship, or just fishing for something? “You don’t think so?”

  Oh no. She wasn’t about to coach him. She wanted Wyatt to give her a straight answer. “I asked you first.”

  He had a feeling that he could see right through her. “You know, no one’s going to hold it against you if you drop your guard just this once,” he told her.

  “If I drop my guard, I could get run over,” she told him honestly.

  She could have sworn she saw a flash of affection in his eyes. “I promise not to let anyone run you over.”

  “What if you’re the one who’s doing the running over?” Rachel asked, cocking her head as she studied Wyatt.

  He smiled at her. “That’s simple enough to answer. I won’t be,” he told her. “Ever.” His eyes met hers and he closed his arms around her shoulders in a protective gesture. “I promise.”

  “You know I can’t hold you to that,” she told him. He could change on her at any time if he wanted to. Elliott had taught her that. He hadn’t been perfect, heaven knows, but she’d believed he was basically honest—until he wasn’t.

  “Sure you can. I’m an honorable guy. Just ask any of my friends here,” he told her, nodding toward the circle of people sitting around them. All of them, at the moment, looked as if they were on the verge of contently dropping off to sleep.

  “I don’t think that they would make such good material witnesses right now,” Rachel told him. “They look like they’re about to fall asleep.” She found herself growing concerned. “How far away do the other two couples live?” she asked. It wasn’t her place to say anything, but she thought that maybe on the road wasn’t the best place for any of them to be right now.

  “Not that far,” he told her. He had a feeling he knew what she was thinking. “But Jenny and Adam have spare bedrooms. They can put them up for the night if necessary. They wouldn’t want having anyone falling asleep at the wheel on their conscience,” he told her. And then he added, “There’s a spare room for us, as well.”

  His eyes met hers and she wasn’t sure what he was thinking.

  “Just wanted you to know,” he added when she didn’t say anything.

  “I can drive us home if you’re sleepy,” Rachel volunteered. “Not ‘us’,” she corrected. “I mean you.” And then she realized that that might present a problem in logistics since they had driven over in his car. “You might have to sleep over at my place, but that would just make you super early for your session with my dad and his physical therapy exercises,” she said, trying to make him see the practical side of this and not think that she was trying to proposition him.

  She looked at Wyatt and his expression gave nothing away.

  It would have been nice if she were able to read him the way his friends seemed to be able to read one another, she thought.

  Wyatt nodded as he rose to his feet. “That sounds like it has possibilities. I do like getting an early start, as does your father. First, though,” he said, extending his hand to her to help her up, “we have to leave here.”

  Rachel grinned. “I do like your sense of organization.”

  “Oh, are you two going?” Jenny asked, rousing herself and sitting up straighter. She smiled, looking at Rachel. “I think I ate too much of your ziti. It’s making me drowsy.”

  “Maybe it was the barbecue,” Rachel suggested.

  But Jenny shook her head at the suggestion. “Never the barbecue,” she told her guest. Her voice dropped as she added, “Adam does his best, but, well...” Her voice trailed off as Jenny ended the statement with a well-meaning shrug.

  Glancing around at the gathering, their hostess made a judgment call.

  “Looks like the gang stays here tonight. I don’t think they can see the road, much less be able to drive on it. You’re welcome to stay here tonight, too,” she offered, turning to look at Wyatt and Rachel.

  “Thank you, but we both need to get an early start in the morning,” Rachel told her. “Wyatt is still working on my dad’s rehab, and as for me, I have got a restaurant to get ready.”

  Jenny began to walk the pair toward the front door. “I intend to come by to your restaurant sometime in the next couple of weeks, you know. You’ve definitely intrigued me.”

  “I’d love to see you there.” Rachel looked around at the others who were in various stages of fading—mostly asleep. “Tell the others the same goes for them—and that I said goodbye.”

  Jenny nodded, but rather than agree, what she said was “Until the next time.”

  That sounded really nice, Rachel thought as she left with Wyatt.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “My father’s going to be waiting up, so we’re going to have to be really quiet when we come into the house. Are you capable of tiptoeing in?” she asked as she pulled Wyatt’s car up to her front curb.

  Rachel had driven back to her house under slight duress. Wyatt had protested that he wasn’t really that sleepy and that he was perfectly capable of taking them to her home.

  However, she wasn’t buying it. Given the fact that he had consumed a couple glasses of wine within the last part of the barbecue, she had told him that there was no point in taking any unnecessary chances. And since she hadn’t had any alcohol at all, that made her the perfect candidate to drive home.

  “Does your father always wait up for you?” Wyatt asked as he got out of the passenger side.

  The next second he found himself swallowing a curse. He had just hit his shin against the edge of the door because he wasn’t used to getting out on the passenger side.

  “Pretty much,” Rachel admitted. “He got into the habit while he was convalescing at home after his heart attack,” she told him. “Before that, he was always too busy, working at the restaurant. I suppose worrying about me gave him something to focus on.”

  Wyatt laughed softly to himself. “I guess you’re not the only worrier in the family. Not that it’s a bad thing,” he quickly clarified, not wanting to set her off or offend her. “I do appreciate you worrying about me. What I mean by that is I appreciate you driving me home. Or rather to your house.”

  She shrugged. Rachel didn’t view what she had done as a big deal. “I didn’t think that reading about you being a fatality the next morning would be a perfect way to end this experience.”<
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  Wyatt nodded. “Can’t argue with that,” he told her, “although, for the record, I have driven home when I’ve been a lot sleepier than I am right now.”

  “Better safe than sorry,” Rachel responded in a lowered voice.

  Her fingers flew over the keypad as she quickly disarmed the security system and unlocked the front door. As she gestured for Wyatt to enter, she signaled for him to be quiet just in case he had forgotten.

  Wyatt nodded, humoring her. It was obvious by his expression that he hadn’t forgotten about not waking her father.

  But the reminder turned out to be unnecessary. Rachel’s father wasn’t there.

  Her father was not sitting in the recliner that had become his customary post while waiting for her. And a quick scan of the living room told her that he wasn’t there, either.

  “Maybe your father thought you’d get home safely since you were out with me and decided he could go to bed,” Wyatt told her.

  “Maybe,” Rachel agreed but her tone let him know that she wasn’t convinced. “But I’m still going to check on him.”

  Wyatt frowned slightly to himself. “You know, someday you’re going to have to stop worrying. For your own good as well as his.”

  “I know,” she answered, unfazed. “But someday isn’t going to be tonight.” She quickly hurried up the stairs.

  Wyatt followed right behind her on the outside chance that something was wrong, although he felt pretty confident that it wasn’t.

  Arriving in front of her father’s door, Rachel very quietly turned the doorknob and then peeked in. Wyatt was half a breath behind her.

  Her father was lying in his bed, apparently sound asleep.

  “Satisfied?” Wyatt whispered, withdrawing.

  He was surprised that Rachel wasn’t following right behind him and closing the door. Instead, she remained standing there, her eyes focused on her father.