The Reluctant Bachelor (3 page)

Elizabeth glanced at the back of her order pad, where she’d written them. “Chicken noodle. Clam chowder. And vegetable.”

The women resumed looking at their menus. The salt-and-pepper looked up at Rick. “Char’s coming in for the festival this weekend, you know.”

Rick gave a tight smile. “You must be looking forward to seeing your daughter.”

Elizabeth glanced at him. He tugged at the collar of his T-shirt and rolled his head on his shoulders. Clearly not a good topic.

“What she’s looking forward to is seeing you again, Rick. Should I tell her to give you a call?”

Rick shifted on his feet until Elizabeth stepped in. “Actually, he’ll be busy with me this weekend. Working the festival and all.” She glanced at Rick. “Isn’t that right?”

Rick sighed and nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. It’s gonna be pretty busy, Mrs. Stanfill.” When the older woman wrinkled her nose, he quickly added, “But I’ll be sure to say hello if I see her in town.”

Red gave her friend a sideways glance, then offered a big smile to Rick. “Donna will be in town, as well. You be sure to say hello to her, too.”

Rick nodded, but he looked as if he’d agreed to pour salt into old wounds. “Elizabeth, why don’t you go ahead and take their orders? I’ve got to check on something in the kitchen.”

Rick left her standing alone. She took a big breath. “So what can I get you?”

* * *

E
LIZABETH
WAS
CONVINCED
that he’d chosen the three most difficult tables to train her on. They all wanted specific orders rather than something off the menu. Maybe he’d put them up to it. Maybe he’d told them to be difficult. She groaned and hoisted the tray of food for the second table onto her shoulder like Rick had shown her. It was heavier than it looked, and she almost sagged under its weight. A drop of oil dripped from the tray onto her blouse.

Great.
She’d definitely need that trip to the clothing store. How did people not have to buy a wardrobe at the end of the day working in food service? If nothing else, she would appreciate how hard her server worked the next time she ate at a restaurant. She promised she’d tip better if she could get through this afternoon.

By the end of the lunch rush, she found herself again at the back booth, her feet up and resting on the seat across from her. She’d developed blisters. She must have the way her feet throbbed and ached. She needed better shoes. New clothes. What else would this glimpse into Rick’s life cost her?

“Here.” Rick set a plate laden with a BLT and fries in front of her. “My specialty, just for you.”

She wrinkled her nose at the bacon but one whiff of the sandwich made her stomach grumble loud enough for Rick to hear. He chuckled.

“Thanks.” She laid a napkin on her lap and took a tentative bite.

Mmmmmmmm.

Rick grinned and left, only to return momentarily with his own sandwich. “Mind if I join you?”

“Think the diner will survive without us?” She took another large bite and tried to chew faster to get to the next one.

“I think we have time to eat. You don’t have to rush.” He looked around the dining room, which held a few stragglers left from the rush. “Shirley’s here, so she can take over.”

Elizabeth took another bite of her sandwich and groaned again in delight. There was something different about the bacon. “What’s your secret?”

“If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a secret anymore.” He smirked at her. “I bake the bacon rather than frying it. Sprinkle it with Cajun seasonings and brown sugar to give it a little something special.”

She wiped her mouth with her napkin. “This is fantastic.”

“Thank you.”

They ate in silence until Elizabeth pushed her plate away. It held only a few of the fries and a stray piece of lettuce. She patted her very full belly. “I can’t eat another bite. What are you trying to do to me?”

He looked her over. “You could use some fattening up.”

“Now you sound like a grandmother.” Not that she’d ever known one personally. Yet another part of childhood she’d missed.

Rick stuffed the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. They smiled at each other, not saying a word. Not needing to. When he was finished, he wiped his mouth and rubbed his flat stomach. “That really hit the spot.”

It felt good to sit. To put her feet up and relax. She almost hated to ask, but she did. “So what’s next on the agenda?”

“I show you around town. The Pickle Festival kicks off tonight, so what better way to see it than that? The rides. The food. The people.” He winked at her. “You won’t be able to resist.”

If only that were true. “Even if we agree to tape here, you’ll still have to come to L.A. for the live finale. That’s a tradition we can’t break.”

“I’m not asking to break anything. Just change it a little.”

Elizabeth nodded, then attempted to get to her feet, which protested. She sat back down. “As long as we’re not talking about long walks anywhere, I’m in.”

CHAPTER THREE

S
EEING
THE
NATURAL
beauty of Michigan would woo Lizzie, who would in turn convince the suits, so Rick followed the scenic route along the lake. The sun glanced off the smooth dark green surface of the water while boats drifted in the distance. Picturesque cottages and run-down fishing shacks shared the shore, providing its tenants with lake living.

When it was safe to do so, he pulled the truck over to the side of the road and held out his hand to help her down. She groaned as her feet touched the ground, only reminding him that working in his diner had taken a lot out of her. But she was a trouper. Whether it was to convince him for the show or something else, it didn’t matter. He admired her spunk.

“I was thinking that this would really look spectacular on film.” Though he still had no desire to do the show, the idea of filming here was growing on him. It could be just the boost the Lake Mildred economy needed. He turned back to gauge her impression. “It’s amazing here in the spring. Summer. Fall. Even winter with all the snow.”

Her eyes widened. “Snow?”

She’d probably never seen a snowflake, much less a foot of the white stuff dumped overnight. “When were you looking to film the show?”

“A live Valentine’s Day kickoff. Then live again for the finale in time for the May sweeps.”

“So snow, then budding flowers. Nice.” He looked out over the lake and took a deep breath. He’d tried the California atmosphere, but he’d been homesick for this the entire time. The clean air. The lap of the waves on the shore. Even the splash of fish, who were practically calling his name to catch them. “We could do a ski fantasy date. Or an ice-fishing expedition. Later in the spring, they could even try out for my softball team.”

“You really want us to come here? Disturb the peace of your small town?” She looked around her. “I’ll admit this would look good on television. Practically a postcard from Middle America. But we wouldn’t leave this place the way we found it.”

“Besides bringing your audience a taste of real America, you’d also be bringing local jobs for the time you’re here. Jobs that people could really use.” He stepped closer to her. “You’d need people to drive. To build. To cater. Sure, you could bring some of those people from L.A. out here, but think of what you could save by hiring locally. You could improve the town’s economy.”

She looked at him as if he’d suggested that they could cure cancer while they were at it. “We’re a television show. Don’t give us too much credit.”

“Lizzie.” He stepped closer. “My dad always told me that with our money came responsibility. I had to give back in any way I could. If I do the show, I want to be able to help the people who have supported me. Will you help me do that?”

She sighed. “You’ve given me some things to think about, but I’m going to need more than this. Where would I house twenty-four women? As well as a crew of two dozen more. The bed-and-breakfast I’m at is nice, but let’s be realistic. We need something a lot bigger.”

Rick nodded and considered the issue. “What about some of these abandoned homes? Couldn’t you rent one of those?”

“And fix it up with what money? The studio owns a mansion specifically for this show. It works for a reason.”

She always had to look on the bleak side, didn’t she? But he could see the wheels turning in her head behind the skeptical expression. She might be throwing up objections, but he could tell she saw the benefits. “What if you don’t pay me for my time on the show? What if you instead use that check to do this?”

She turned and looked at him closely. “You’d do that?” She didn’t seem convinced.

Rick knew it could work. Bring the show. Put people to work. Keep some kind of normal life while living it out in front of a national audience. It had to work. “To get the show here? Yeah.”

She crossed her arms. “Keep talking.”

“Consider the tax breaks the state would give you for filming here. The cost of living is less, so you’d be getting bargain prices on the things you take for granted in Hollywood.”

“Let’s say we could rent a house around here. Two dozen women sharing one, maybe two bathrooms? Even that’s a little too real for television.”

Rick grinned. “And a whole lot of fun.”

Lizzie held up her hands. “Okay. Show me more.”

* * *

B
Y
THE
TIME
they got in the truck and headed back to the diner for dinner, Elizabeth was dog tired. She doubted she’d be awake long enough to eat, much less call Devon with an update. And she had to admit the idea of filming here had started to wiggle into her already clicking mind. It would be a change, something that could spark ratings for a show that was starting to show its age. Rick might be onto something.

Instead of going to the diner, however, Rick turned his truck into the driveway of a large Victorian house with a wraparound porch and pulled around back near the lakefront. Elizabeth looked at the manicured landscape outside and frowned. “We’re having dinner here?”

Rick wiggled his eyebrows. “First we’re going to catch it. Then we’ll eat here.”

Elizabeth groaned. “You’re taking me fishing? Haven’t you tortured me enough for one day?”

“Think of it as part of your Michigan experience.” He got out of the truck and retrieved fishing poles and a tackle box from behind the front seat. “And you haven’t really lived until you’ve eaten something you’ve caught.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. This was not what she had signed up for. Still, she was hungry and she’d agreed to do what was necessary to get Rick for the show. “Fine. But I’m not cleaning any icky fish. You get that job.”

“Sure, Lizzie.”

“Elizabeth,” she muttered under her breath as she followed him to the dinghy tied to the dock on the lake.

Rick held out one hand and helped her step into the boat. She spread her arms to catch her balance before taking a seat on the narrow wooden bench. Rick untied the boat from the dock and stepped inside, pushing off. He took a seat, then pulled the chain for the motor. They putted out to the center of the lake while Elizabeth watched the sun lower in the west behind a wall of magnificent trees. She closed her eyes.

“This place is getting to you.”

She opened her eyes. “I’m tired.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Rick steered them out farther and cut the engine. He handed her a pole. “Have you ever fished before?”

“When I was a kid, my mom took me to the Santa Monica pier. Some guy let me hold his pole while he ran to get a hot dog.” She shrugged. “All I did was stand there.”

“So you’re an expert.”

He opened the tackle box and removed a small plastic container. It was full of black dirt and wriggling worms. Elizabeth wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “I’m not putting one of those on my hook.”

“Relax. I’ll bait it for you.”

He removed one long worm and wound it around her hook while Elizabeth squelched a squeal. She wasn’t naive. She understood the circle-of-life thing. Instead of allowing Rick to think she was squeamish, she accepted the pole. “Now what?”

“Cast it out toward the middle of the lake.”

She looked at him and raised one eyebrow. “Cast is something I hire for a show.”

“Ha-ha. Watch me.” He swung the rod back slightly, then flicked it forward, sending his line out in a perfect arc that Elizabeth doubted she could repeat.

In fact, she couldn’t repeat it. After three failed attempts, Rick cast the line for her. She sighed. “What’s next?”

“We wait.” He wound the reel in a bit and lifted his face to the sky, his eyes closed.

Elizabeth watched him. He had a boyish charm that the audience had loved. He was also funny and sensitive. Why he was still single after all this time was a mystery to her. He was the type of guy who should be a husband and father. “What happened after you came home last time?”

Rick opened one eye and groaned. “Do we have to talk about that?”

“I’m surprised that some woman didn’t snap you up the moment you arrived home, single and willing.” She wound the reel a couple of clicks like she had seen him do. “You still want to get married and have kids, right? So why didn’t you make that happen?”

Rick rubbed his forehead with his free hand. “Were you not there when I got publicly humiliated?”

“It’s been five years. People forget.”

“You have hundreds of letters a week that say otherwise.” He turned his gaze on her. “I guess no one wanted to date a loser.”

“You’re not a loser.” Elizabeth pulled her pole back slightly, mirroring Rick’s movements. “You are a catch. And any woman who doesn’t realize that is not only blind, but also not worth your time.”

“Then I live in a town full of the sightless.” Rick reeled his line in and cast it farther out. “Do you know they had a viewing party at the diner for the night of the finale? All my family and friends were gathered together to watch me propose. Instead they saw me dumped and humiliated.”

“I think you’re the only one who’s not over that already.” She glanced at his eyes shadowed beneath his ball cap. “But I do have one question.”

“Only one? You’re slipping.”

“Did you love Brandy?”

He swallowed and adjusted the ball cap again. Then he moved his fishing pole and wound the reel a couple of turns, clearly stalling for time. “Yes.” His voice croaked. “And the crazy thing is I thought she loved me, too. Only, she was pretending for the cameras.”

“You don’t know that.”

Rick looked up at her with troubled eyes. “She chose him over me. How else do you explain it?”

She reached out and touched his knee. Then she quickly removed her hand. “You knew she was dating you both. That there was a chance...”

“But it felt real.” He shrugged. “That’s why I’m conflicted about doing the show. How am I supposed to know what’s real and what’s for the sake of the cameras? How can I trust my heart to someone else who might be pretending?”

She longed to remove the hurt from his eyes. “That’s why you have me. I’ll protect you. Like I should have the last time.” She glanced out toward the lakeshore. “We were friends. I should have...” She looked back at him. “I want to be friends again. And I’ll help you get what you want.”

“How do you know what I want?”

“Because it’s my job to figure it out. With your help, of course.”

He gazed into her eyes until she supposed he could see her soul. If they were any two other people, this would be the perfect moment to kiss. Her lips tingled at the thought.

Rick leaned forward. She closed her eyes. “I think you’ve got a bite.”

Her eyes flew open, and she tugged on the line. Sure enough, something was resisting at the other end. She squealed and stood up. Rick reached out and put a hand on her calf. “Careful. You’re going to capsize the boat.”

She wound the reel and shouted as a long silvery-green fish appeared at the end of her line. “I caught a fish!”

Rick reached up to steady her, and she threw herself into his arms.

Later, as they sat dripping wet at the campfire, she could point out where she went wrong before the boat capsized. Thankfully, Rick never raised his voice. Unfortunately, he didn’t say a word, either.

Elizabeth held out her hands toward the fire to absorb the heat. She looked over at Rick, who pulled his hooded jacket closer around him. “I’m sorry. Again.”

Nothing.

She looked into the fire, hoping to find the right words. “I know you warned me, but I was so excited. I’ve never caught a fish.”

Still nothing.

She sighed. “I’m sorry it got away.”

He cleared his throat.

She settled farther into the Adirondack chair. “And that we lost your fishing pole.”

His eyes flickered to hers briefly, then concentrated on the campfire again. Elizabeth closed her eyes and rested her head on the back of the chair. Silence was good. They were both tired. And wet.

Her stomach growling broke the silence. Rick’s answered in turn.

And they were both hungry.

“I want to make this up to you.” She leaned forward. “I’ll treat you to the best dinner. Anywhere you want.”

“Lizzie...”

She sighed. “He speaks.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He stood and smothered the fire, then walked toward the house.

Elizabeth watched him leave, then rose and ran after him. “We still need to eat dinner.”

Rick stopped and looked at his wet clothes, then hers. “No one would serve us like this. And I’m too hungry to change.” He turned back and continued walking.

“Where are you going?”

“Mom probably has enough food in her cupboards to feed your entire crew for three months.” He grinned at her. “First one there gets dibs.”

And with that, he sprinted toward the house. Elizabeth laughed and ran after him.

* * *

G
REEN
OLIVES
.
Sweet pickles. Crackers and cheese. Leftover pasta salad. It was a feast, and Rick enjoyed every bite.

They sat on stools at the kitchen island while they ate with their fingers. He stopped eating momentarily to find napkins. He handed one to Lizzie, who grinned around a mouthful of salad. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out two cans of soda and placed one at each plate. “You must be thirsty.”

Lizzie nodded her thanks and opened her drink. She looked around the kitchen. “Where’s your mom?”

Rick popped the top of his drink and took several long pulls. It burned going down, but it was that good kind of burn. “It’s the first night of the Pickle Festival, which means she’s probably manning the fried-pickle tent.” At Lizzie’s frown, he continued, “You haven’t tasted heaven until you’ve had a fried pickle. Trust me.”

“I heard you mention it before, but what exactly is a pickle festival?”

“Last night’s championship game was the kickoff to a weekend full of pickles here. Courtesy of Allyn Pickles, of course.” He fished out a sweet gherkin from the jar and handed it to her. “It’s a huge deal for the town every year. Financially speaking. Lots of tourists. Family reunions. Homecomings. Everyone looks forward to it.”

Lizzie looked down at her clothes. “Speaking of a huge deal, we didn’t get any clothes for me. I can’t work in your diner dressed in my regular clothes.”