CHAPTER THREE

 

 

Rachel parked her car—a sensible, dark green sedan with four-wheel drive—in the street in front of the Golden Fortune Chinese restaurant. Andrew’s refusal to come to Quinn Valley hadn’t exactly been a deal-breaker, but it had been a little bit of a red flag.

What was he hiding?

He’d been willing to pick her up in Quinn Valley, but he’d just said right before that he “really couldn’t” come to her town.

It was odd, that was certain. She’d decided to keep the date anyway—though would drive herself, thank you very much—and resolved to weasel out of him the details of this particular oddity. They’d emailed a few more times and eventually decided on a date in Riston, just because it’d been ages since she’d had Chinese food, and Golden Fortune’s chef was really talented.

Even if Andrew turned out to be a con artist and a total creep, at least she’d get some yummy walnut shrimp and lo mein out of the deal!

When she reached the restaurant door, she hesitated. Should she go inside?

They agreed to meet at the restaurant, but not where specifically.

Out here on the sidewalk, even though it was getting dark—darn these early sunsets in winter!—and cold, or inside where they wouldn’t have the chance to really talk before having to deal with the hostess?

Whoa there, lady!

She forced herself to take a few deep breaths and shook out her hands by her sides. One of the downsides to a career in management was, well, trying to manage everything. She liked to be in control of everything, according to a therapist she’d once visited, and recognizing it was important.

Okay. Okay, let’s go with the flow here. Let’s let life happen. We’ll just open the door and go inside and—

She gave a little mental squeal as the door opened just as she reached for it, totally ruining the pep talk she’d been giving herself. That is, until she got a good look at the man standing there in the doorway.

A little taller than her, with dark hair and eyes—it was hard to see the exact shade of color in the soft light from the gold lamp hanging over the door—and a beard trimmed close to his jaw. She’d always been a sucker for a well-maintained beard. And shoulders. Which this guy had plenty of.

Good manners meant she should resist the urge to drop her gaze any lower—to see if he had nice muscly arms too—so she distracted herself with her new mantra:

Please be Andrew please be Andrew please be Andrew.

And then he smiled—even white teeth against his beard—and said, “I guess that’s what you meant by ‘IndianGoddess’, huh?”

Hallelujah! It’s Andrew!

Wait, what?

“Oh, the—my user name.” Her hand unconsciously rose to tuck a strand of hair behind her right ear, a nervous habit she’d never broken. “Yeah, it’s—uh—I mean, most people assume I mean Native American, but nope, I’m…um…me, I guess.”

Could you be a bigger dork, Rachel Priya Chakrabarti?

And then—holy moly!—he reached out and took her hand, took it right out from behind her ear and held it!

Held her hand! Right there in the doorway to the Chinese restaurant!

“I’m Andrew,” he said in what she was beginning to suspect was an entirely too-sexy, gravelly voice. “And I’m very pleased to meet you.”

Oh.

“Ra-Rachel Chakrabarti.” Dork extraordinaire.

If anything, his smile grew. “Let’s get inside before we let all the heat out. Lin is already glaring.”

Lin? Who was Lin? Rachel decided she didn’t care, because he didn’t let go of her hand as he pulled her gently into the restaurant. She’d taken off her gloves for driving and hadn’t bothered to pull them back on, and now she was thanking her lucky stars, because his hand was all sorts of warm. And callused. She’d always liked a guy with rough hands; it proved he worked with them.

Just being near him was making her go warm all over—she was ready to shuck her coat already!—and her heart was beating frantically against her chest. Wow. He was cute and all, but this seemed a little too drastic a response, didn’t it?

Safe and sound inside the restaurant, Andrew said a few words to the hostess—who Rachel assumed must be Lin—but kept his grip on her hand. Rachel shrugged her purse up higher on her shoulder and decided she didn’t mind his forwardness one bit.

Didn’t mind holding his hand one bit, either.

“I’m glad you chose this place,” he said when he tugged her into following the hostess towards their table. “The food’s amazing.”

“Um, good. That’s, uh… Yay, me!”

You’ve got a college degree, and you read regularly, Rachel. How come you sound like a toddler around this guy?

Uh, hello? Because he’s a total hottie, that’s why!

He smiled at her as he held out her seat—held out her seat! Squeeeee!—and she was halfway glad he had to let go of her hand to do so, because her hands were shaking a bit, she was so excited. Not nervous, no. Just excited.

The first few minutes were spent in a flurry of taking off their coats, ordering drinks, and looking at the menu. They each ordered two favorites so they could share everything. Very romantic, and she liked that he suggested it.

But then Lin was gone again and their orders were in the kitchen, and it was just the two of them and Rachel’s heart began to pound in anticipation once more. Andrew sighed and leaned back in his chair, his green eyes—she could see them now—raking her with an appreciative glance. And under his inspection, she felt herself preening a bit, glad she’d taken extra care with her makeup today.

“I don’t think I’ve ever gone on a date with an Indian girl before.”

He was still going on about her race? Was that a red flag, or was he just curious?

She shrugged slightly. “There’s not many of us in northern Idaho, are there? My parents have a small store down in Boise, but I came up here for the tourist industry.”

“What do you do?” He was still grinning at her as if she were the most fascinating person in the world, and it was kinda wonderful to realize his bottom teeth were slightly crooked. It made him seem more approachable somehow.

It was disconcerting, in the most brilliant way.

“I’m an AGM—assistant general manager—of a hotel in Quinn Valley. Because of the hot springs, we get a lot of health- and eco- tourists there. Well, you must know!” She waved her hand around, her gesture encompassing Andrew, the restaurant, and the town. “Riston’s got a lot of tourists too, right?”

He shrugged. “Not really. River’s End Ranch is the tourism draw, but not the town.”

Right. That’s what she’d meant. “Anyhow, I was recently promoted, and I’m finally where I want to be.”

“That’s awesome,” he said with a warm smile. “Congratulations. And I’m sorry for bringing up the whole you-being-Indian thing.” His eyes traveled across her face, and his grin grew a bit. “I guess I just got flustered.”

She raised one brow. “I’m not sure if that was a compliment.”

“It was!” he hurried to assure her, leaning forward once more. “You’re beautiful. I mean, I’m glad you wanted to meet. I would’ve been glad no matter what, because I thought we’re really compatible, but meeting you in person… Well, I’m sorry I got flustered. You’re probably the prettiest woman I’ve dated.”

What? Okay, that sounded like a load of hooey. She knew from their conversations Andrew had dated a lot of women, and there was no way she was the prettiest. Her nose was too wide, her skin too dark, her eyebrows too thick, to be considered the modern media’s definition of “beauty.” And the fact he’d said something totally false like that was a little disappointing.

Don’t lie to me! she wanted to shout. But instead, she smiled tightly and said, “You’re probably the oldest guy I’ve dated.”

And that’s when her brain caught up with her mouth, and she snapped her teeth closed with an almost-audible OMG I’m sorry!

But Andrew laughed. Actually laughed, with his head thrown back and everything. It was hard not to stare at the tanned column of his throat, and the smooth demarcation of his beard, so Rachel didn’t bother to try. Her tongue darted out over suddenly dry lips, as she enjoyed the sight of his joy, and tried not to be too confused.

When he looked as if he might be finished laughing soon—at her? Or at her rudeness?—she hurried to redeem herself. Or at least try.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Even if his compliment had been false.

“No, no, it’s okay.” He was still chuckling, and she could see one of his dimples through his beard. “I like honesty. Yep, I’m thirty-eight, and I don’t know why you bothered with a geezer like me.”

“You’re not a geezer!” She leaned towards him, planting her elbows on the table, trying to make up for her rudeness. “You’re only mumble mumble years older than me.”

“Did you just say ‘mumble mumble’? In real life?”

“Awkward silence.”

He burst into laughter again, and Rachel decided she liked being the funny one in the conversation, if it meant he’d laugh more. From this angle, she could only see the one dimple, but it certainly was lovely, wasn’t it?

Dimples, a beard, callused hands, and strong shoulders—oh, and his arms were muscly, under that polo shirt. He was a little thicker around the waist than some of the other guys she’d dated, but then, at thirty-three, she was thicker than a lot of the cute young things currently in the dating scene too.

“I shouldn’t have said that, Andrew, and I’m sorry.”

“About my age? It’s true though, and that’s okay. I’m a geezer.”

And I’m not beautiful.

But out loud, she just said, “I’m glad we finally get to meet in person.”

“Me too.”

Dimple!

Thank goodness the food arrived, and soon the conversation was back to the lighter, easier first date stuff:

Oh, you don’t know how to use chopsticks? I’ll help!

You’ve got a bit of mustard on your chin. Thanks, though I don’t recall eating mustard; we’re in a Chinese restaurant.

This walnut shrimp is amazing! Yes, too bad I’m allergic to shellfish—no, ha, just kidding, you should’ve seen your face!

The fluffy stuff.

And through it all, Rachel found herself falling for this guy. His humor was dry, and despite his ability to laugh unabashedly—so hot!—he could deliver a punchline with a straight face. And he was really good with impressions and voices, it turned out, which had her laughing again and again.

At one point, he turned and she could see the other side of his face, and Rachel came to an intriguing realization: Andrew only had one dimple.

Her doctor, Brooke Quinn, was one of Bob’s nieces, and had once told Rachel her brothers and male cousins all had only one dimple.

Bob’s nephew was named Andrew and lived in Riston, and according to Brooke, only had one dimple.

Her date was named Andrew, who lived in Riston and had only one dimple. It seemed more and more likely this was the same guy. Should she come right out and ask?

Just then, Andrew’s phone made a loud buzzing noise, then another right in a row. His chuckle turned to a wince as he reached for his pocket.

“Sorry,” he said as he fumbled his phone out. “That’s our code. They knew I didn’t want to be disturbed tonight,” he muttered. “This had better be important.”

She watched him turn down the volume so the noise stopped, then swipe through the phone’s menu. As he read, an adorable little “V” formed between his eyebrows, and the corners of his lips turned downwards. His eyes—bright green in the light from the screen—flashed back and forth as he read.

Then, a moment later, he pulled the device away from his face with a noise which she could only describe as a growl. Briefly, he met her eyes.

“I’m really sorry. This was not an emergency.”

She shrugged and pointed with her chopsticks. “Go ahead, I understand.”

His nod seemed a little grateful, and he exhaled. “I’m going to answer just so Chuck quits bothering me.”

He tapped something on the screen and raised the phone to his lips. She watched his eyes go out of focus slightly the way everyone’s do when they dictate.

“Just reset the contactors on the circuit board located above the dishwasher and then cycle the power at the disconnect period.”

That “period” was confusing, until Rachel figured out it was punctuation for voice-to-text. It didn’t make the rest of the sentence any less confusing.

Cycle the power at the disconnect…what?

But Andrew wasn’t done apparently. “Now quit bothering me comma I’m on a date exclamation point.”

Rachel tried not to snicker at his frown as he said his punctuation out loud. When he scowled at the phone and tapped something—send?—he seemed to sigh a little.

“Really, I’m sorry. They know better than to contact me off-hours. I guess JT wasn’t answering the supervisor radio, and Chuck—he’s the engineer on duty—got worried. The dishwasher in the restaurant has been acting up, and he needed to know—apparently right now—if he should call it out to the contractors, or if he should just do it himself.” Andrew blew a raspberry. “It's an easy fix, and we don’t need another bill.” He plunked his phone face-down on the table and stared down at his lo mein. “Not when we’re over-budget, as it is,” he muttered.

Over budget. Restaurant dishwasher. Supervisor radio. Contractors.

Slowly, Rachel grinned. He was speaking her language.

“So,” she began as nonchalantly as possible, “the engineer couldn’t reach his supervisor, so he contacted you. You’re the chief?”

Andrew blinked at her, surprise evident in his expression. “Yeah.”

“I’m guessing it had to do with overtime then, if Chuck thought you needed to approve?”

Now he was frowning. “How did you know— Oh!” His expression cleared slightly. “You work in hotels.”

“And I know all about being overworked. I’ll bet River’s End Ranch is huge, isn’t it? I’ll bet you’re overworked and underappreciated, aren’t you?”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re very sure of yourself.”

She jabbed the air with the chopstick. “I didn’t put it together before, but you’re the chief engineer at River’s End Ranch, aren’t you?” Without waiting for him to agree, she barreled on, “You’re one of the Quinns!”

Beside his plate, his hand curled into a fist. “No, I’m not. I’m a McIver. How do you know all this?”

High on adrenaline from figuring out this little mystery, Rachel stuck out her chin. “You never asked which hotel I work for! I’m the AGM for The Quinn Hotel and Spa!”

Silence met that triumphant announcement. In the light from the candle between them, Rachel watched little lines appear around his eyes, his expression carefully blank. He was as good at hiding his thoughts as he was at laughing freely, apparently.

Suddenly, she wasn’t feeling so triumphant.

It was a long moment before he spoke, his lips barely moving. “Uncle Bob’s hotel, huh?”

“Yes,” she said meekly, poking at the remains of her meal with her chopstick. “He told me about how he tried to hire you, and how you were just being stubborn for not coming to work for him.”

“Stubborn? I’ll—” He snapped his mouth shut on whatever he’d been about to say, then took a deep breath. As he let it out, some of the tension seemed to go out of him too. “No, it doesn’t matter. I hope he’s a good boss.”

The way he said it made her think Bob wasn’t a good boss, so she hurried to defend him. “He is! He really is! He treats me like family. Everyone at the hotel does, really!” She found herself leaning forward again, breathless as she tried to make him understand. “He’d love to have you come to work for—I mean, with us. Family should stick together, shouldn’t it?”

He snorted and pushed his plate away. “Yeah. Family should stick together, but it doesn’t always work that way.”

What was he implying? That Bob hadn’t stuck by him, or something?

All Rachel knew for sure was that she needed a new chief engineer, and her boss’s top pick was sitting across from her. “The Quinn Hotel is a lot less trouble than River’s End Ranch, I’m sure of it. We’ve got the water park, sure, but that’s under separate management, and they have their own engineering staff. We have the restaurant and spa, but that’s nothing compared to everything you must be used to. Our property would be much less of a headache, for the same income.”

Slowly, both of his hands—oh, he had lovely knuckles, what an odd time to notice that—flattened on the table in front of him. Leaning forward, he pierced her with suddenly hard eyes.

“What are you getting at, Ms. Assistant General Manager?”

Dimly, Rachel realized he wasn’t treating this like a date anymore, but she pushed on hurriedly. “Come interview. Please. Bob would be so happy to see you again—I know it—and I’m sure he’d be able to offer you a comparable salary! We just lost our chief and we’re—”

She wasn’t sure what other foolishness she might’ve spouted, because he tossed his head back and laughed again, long and bitterly. Oh yes, this time it was easy to hear the hard edge to the laughter, and she winced as she settled back into her seat.

Way to make a mess of things, dork.

Her subconscious was a meanie sometimes.

Only when you’re a goober.

She winced and shrunk a little. How could she possibly salvage this date? More importantly, how was she going to find an engineer for her hotel?

Wait, that was more important, wasn’t it?