The Reluctant Bachelor (5 page)

He chuckled and settled back in the passenger seat, eyes closed and sun streaming onto his face. “I love Sundays.”

“I can tell.”

He opened one eye and looked at her. She turned her gaze back to the road. “You don’t?”

She shrugged. “In my world, it’s just another day. Another day of phone calls, meetings and... Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You really need to find a hobby.” He turned his focus back to the road. “Turn left up here, and we’ll follow the lake to the house.”

* * *

R
ICK
HELPED
L
IZZIE
out of the car, then walked around the house to the back door.

He opened the door and popped his head inside. “Mom?” The smell of roasting beef tickled his nose, so he knew she was around somewhere. He turned back to Lizzie. “She’s probably changing from her church clothes.”

Lizzie looked down at her suit. “Do I look okay?”

He smiled. Always worried about how she looked. He wore his Detroit Tigers T-shirt and favorite jeans. He didn’t have to worry. “You’re not meeting my family as a girlfriend, so stop worrying. They’ll love you.”

“Until they find out I’m bringing you back to the show again.” She shut the door behind her. “We really need to talk.”

He held up a hand. “I know. Later.” It was definitely a conversation that could wait.

His mom entered the kitchen and walked over to him. She kissed him on the cheek. “My handsome boy.” She turned to Lizzie. Her expression changed from affection to distrust. “I’ve agreed to be civil, for Rick’s sake.” Lizzie fidgeted until his mom looked her over and sighed. “Rick’s right. You need some fattening up. I hope you’re hungry.”

Rick took a step between Lizzie and his mom. Better to keep them at a distance for now. “Is Danny here yet? I’m starving to death.” He patted his empty stomach again.

His mom rolled her eyes. “Never mind him, Lizzie. He’s always hungry.”

“Elizabeth.”

His mom checked on the roast in the oven, then turned to them. “Rick, you’re on table duty. Lizzie, if you’d help me make a salad, then we’ll be able to eat once Dan arrives. Now, why don’t you tell me more about what’s going on with you two.”

Lizzie colored as pink as her suit. Rick cleared his throat. “I’ve agreed to do the show again, Ma.”

She stopped pulling vegetables from the crisper and turned to face him. He swallowed and felt exactly like he used to when waiting for his father to come home and discipline him for goofing off in school. He hadn’t wanted to blurt it out like that, but it was better to say it now rather than waiting for Dan to start spinning this to his advantage. He watched for his mother’s reaction.

She nodded and took a seat at the kitchen island. Rick helped to put the vegetables on the counter and shut the refrigerator. He chuckled, trying to keep it light. “I didn’t expect you to be overjoyed, but speechless? Wow.”

“Why do you want to put yourself through that, honey?” She put her hands on either side of his face. “Do you think you could handle it again?”

He glanced at Lizzie, who started to peel the plastic wrap from the head of lettuce. His producer wasn’t being any help, so he shrugged. “I’m still single. Still haven’t found the right woman. Why not open the odds up a little in my favor?”

“It didn’t work the last time.” She shook her head and buried her face in her hands. “I begged your father to let you off the hook. We didn’t need that ridiculous show to survive.”

“Mrs. Allyn, the chances of Rick finding a wife are better this time. He’ll be the focus of our show. The one doing the choosing.”

His mom turned to her. “I can’t believe you’re torturing him again with this. You don’t know what it was like when he came back. The pain—”

“Ma.” She turned back to him. He’d do anything to ease the worry in her eyes. “I know you’re trying to protect me. But this time will be different.”

“How can you be so sure?”

He winked at Lizzie. “Because we’re doing it my way this time.”

Lizzie paled but gave a weak nod to Ma when she looked at her. “Rick wants more control this time. We still have to work out the details, but he wants to film here in town.”

Rick crossed his arms. “I more than want it. I’m going to have it or there will be no show.”

Lizzie accepted the knife from his mom. She started to chop the tomato. “I understand that you want to avoid what happened last time, but there are certain requirements, restrictions, that the show places not only on the contestants, but—”

He held up one hand. “Don’t try to produce me right now, Lizzie.” He turned back to his mom. “When are you going to stop worrying about me?”

She tried to give him a smile, but he could see what it cost her. “You’ll always be my baby.”

He hugged her and rubbed her back. “Someday you’ll have to trust me to make big-boy decisions.”

“What’s wrong?”

Rick turned to Dan, who had entered the kitchen, shrugged out of his suit coat and hung it on the back of a stool. “Mom’s worried about me doing the show again.”

Dan rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “So you’re really going to do it.”

“Yes, Dan. I think so.” He glanced at Lizzie, who watched his reaction closely. “I’m almost positive.” He turned back to his mom. “I don’t want to make the same mistakes, so that’s why we’re doing the show here. You’ll get to know all the women throughout the whole process. And give me advice.” He turned to face Dan. “When I ask for it.”

“Taping here means that we can showcase Allyn Pickles even more. Make a national audience aware of what we offer.” His mercenary brother’s eyes glazed over with the possibilities, and Rick sighed and patted his mom’s arm.

“I’ll set the table, and we can discuss this over dinner. Okay?”

She nodded, but he could tell she wasn’t really there. He walked to the cupboard and pulled out dishes and glasses, then disappeared into the dining room. It was mindless work, but that was what he needed to clear his mind.

“What happened after the show last time?”

Rick glanced up from a dinner plate and frowned at Lizzie, who stood in the doorway watching him. “You’re supposed to be making a salad.”

“Your mom took over, so I came in here to talk to you.”

He finished placing the plates on the table and turned to the sideboard drawer where his mom kept the cloth napkins. He folded four and walked around the table, placing them where they belonged next to each plate. “I don’t need to talk.”

“What happened that’s got your mom so scared for you to do this show?”

She stepped in front of him so that he had to look at her or push her out of his way. He chose to look at her. “It’s complicated.”

“That’s my response. Get your own.”

He sighed and moved around her to retrieve the silverware from the sideboard. He pulled out four forks, four spoons and four knives, then slammed the drawer shut and braced his hands on either side of him. “It wasn’t good.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I want you to do this show, but not if it’s going to hurt you.”

He looked down at her soft mouth. “You want your job. Dan wants his publicity. The town needs the money. Do I really have a choice?”

“You always have a choice, Rick.” She dropped her hand but kept her gaze on his. “Tell me what happened last time.”

He closed his eyes. “Some people run when trouble comes. Others throw themselves into work.” He opened his eyes and saw her watching him, a frown marring her brow. He might as well tell her the whole story, because his family would if he didn’t. “I retreated to my family’s cottage. Didn’t go out. Didn’t work. Cut myself off from everybody and everything. I couldn’t sleep, wouldn’t eat. I became disoriented and got behind the wheel of my car to drive back home. I didn’t wake up until I hit a tree. After crushing my knee in the accident, I lost even my dream of playing with the pros.” He straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat. “But I won’t let it happen again. And you’re going to help me make sure of that.”

CHAPTER FIVE

B
Y
F
EBRUARY
,
Lake Mildred was ready, poised on the brink of either publicity or infamy. Rick poured another round of coffee for his regulars and tried to maintain his good mood despite their incessant questions.

Would the production crew hire local people to help out as they had agreed in the contract? Rick knew they would and had signed papers to make it so. Lizzie had promised, and he knew he could trust her.

Would the show bring more tourists in? Probably, depending on the ratings. If it was popular, they’d want to come experience the place for themselves. If it ended as it had before, they’d want to come gawk at the man destined to be alone.

Would he find a wife? He prayed that he would. There was no other option on this. Either he met the woman meant to be his wife or he’d choose someone who was close enough to his list of expectations and hope that love would grow between them. He wearied of going to bed alone, waking up alone. He didn’t want to keep living with only his thoughts.

He replaced the coffee carafe in the machine and leaned on the counter. Ernesto, the cook, came out from the kitchen and joined him. “You ready to give this all up?”

Rick snorted and glanced around the dining room. “It’s only for a couple of months. Don’t get used to not having me here.”

“You’re the lifeblood here at the diner. In the community.” Ernesto put a hand on his shoulder. “What you’re doing for us now is...” His voice broke, and he shook his head.

“I’m not a savior, Ern.” Rick pushed himself off the counter and went to stand at the front window, watching as road crews filled in potholes that had cropped up after each thaw. There had been talk of repaving, but it wasn’t sound fiscal judgment in the winter.

But it was more than the potholes being filled. Rick had added fancy coffee drinks to his menu, and a bright copper espresso machine had arrived that he’d had to learn and teach his staff to use. Lizzie said it would draw the crew and contestants in like mosquitoes to a bug zapper. Outside the diner, the community task force had repainted benches, shored up docks and ordered more road salt for the snow that hadn’t stopped since New Year’s Day.

All so he could find a wife and Lizzie could keep her job.

Rick turned away from the window and walked back into the kitchen. Freshly baked cakes lined the stainless-steel counters, cooling and waiting for frosting.

The phone rang, but Rick let Ernesto answer it by the cash register. Probably another take-out order. Or one more reservation for the viewing party on Valentine’s Day. While Rick met the future Mrs. Allyn, and twenty-three other beautiful women, at a huge catered party at the Veterans of Foreign Wars hall, the town would gather at the diner to watch it unfold on live television.

Ernesto opened the swinging door and handed him the phone. He stared at it, then put it up to his ear. “Rick Allyn.”

“Do you always answer your phone so formally?”

He grinned at the familiar voice. “Lizzie.”

“You’re never going to call me Elizabeth, are you?” She sighed over the line, making his smile wider. “Do you have plans tonight?”

“If you’re here and available for dinner, my schedule is free.”

She chuckled. “I’ll take you up on dinner. The plane just landed, and my stomach is demanding real food. We need to go over some things before my crew arrives tomorrow.”

His skin warmed, and he held the phone tighter. “You’re really here? I won’t have to settle for talking on the phone and picturing you hanging on my every word on the other side of the country?”

“We can even sit side by side if you want.” She muttered to someone on her end of the phone, then sighed. “They didn’t save my convertible for me. Can you believe it?”

“It’s winter, Lizzie. Get the four-wheeldrive SUV with heated seats. Trust me.” He glanced through the cutout window into the diner, where people tried to catch a peek of him. “You won’t believe the changes in town since you were here last.”

They hung up with plans to meet at the diner once she had checked in at the hotel where she and some of the crew would stay.

* * *

T
O
KILL
TIME
,
Rick buzzed through
his apartment, making sure it looked presentable. He’d been raised to keep a tidy room, but it had never been easy for him. He liked his things out and around him. He knew Lizzie wouldn’t want to be surrounded by stacks of newspaper with sports stats. His baseball mitt sat on the kitchen table though it hadn’t been used in months. The comforter of his bed was dragging half on the floor.

A tapping on the apartment floor brought Rick’s attention back to the present. Ernesto’s signal that Lizzie had arrived at the diner. He double-checked the tiny space, then took the stairs to the kitchen two at a time. Ernesto motioned with his head to the dining room. Rick took a deep breath and pushed open the swinging door.

Lizzie wasn’t alone.

A man stood next to her with a large bag over one shoulder and a camera in the other hand. They didn’t hear Rick approach over their discussion about where to set the camera up for the first interview.

Cameras and interviews already? His stomach started to ache. “What happened to dinner with real food?”

Lizzie turned and smiled. “Talk first, eat later. We need to get these one-on-one discussions finished before the live premiere.”

He nodded, but the ball in the pit of his stomach grew rather than shrunk. “One-on-ones. I remember those.”

“Good.” She pointed to the back booth. “We could set up there, make it look intimate. Charlie?”

The guy with the camera looked at the fluorescent lighting in the diner and shook his head. “Intimacy? Not with this lighting. Is there somewhere else we could do this?”

Rick thought of all the cleaning he had done and gave a short nod. “My apartment’s upstairs. It’s not big, but it would give that intimate feeling you want.” He motioned to follow him through the kitchen and up the stairs. He paused only once, when Ernesto bobbed his head to the pie that was cooling on the counter.

Once upstairs, Rick watched Lizzie survey his domain, wondering about her thoughts. It was small but tidy. Exactly what he needed. A worn-out sleeper sofa that had graced the family room growing up. A big-screen television. The place wouldn’t win any design awards, but he liked it. This was home.

Charlie set up in the living area so that Rick could sit in the recliner while Lizzie lobbed questions from the sofa. When he left to retrieve more lights from the SUV, Rick turned to Lizzie. “I never liked these.”

“I remember.” She nodded and started ticking items off on her fingers. “We have a lot to do and less than a week to do it. We’ve had a crew refurbishing the two houses you found for the women to stay in. As it is, they’ll finish them up only hours before the contestants arrive. I have a laundry list of items to locate or buy, interviews to schedule and film, your family to prep.” She closed her hand in a fist. “We need to multitask, which means interviews and dinner tonight.”

“Didn’t you plan on prepping me for this interview?” He shook his head at the edge in his voice. He was disappointed. He’d admit it. Tonight was supposed to be about two friends catching up on the past few months. Not a Q&A in front of a third party. “I was hoping we could relax tonight before the real work starts.”

“It’s been nothing but work since I landed in L.A. last August.” She consulted her clipboard, then set it aside. Fully looked at him for the first time. “Are you okay?”

He shrugged, pretending that it was no big deal. “Honestly? No. I’ve been nervous since Christmas. Might have to stock up on the pink stuff to calm my stomach.” He chuckled. “Other than that, I’m great.”

“You’ll be fine. Remember—you’re the one in charge this time.” She picked up her clipboard again and glanced at it. “Except for one tiny thing.”

He frowned. “How tiny?”

She looked up at him. “I’m the executive producer. So I’m really the one who calls the shots.” She stood up when Charlie entered the room. “Let’s get set up and knock off some of these interviews. Then dinner. And I’ll be spending the rest of the evening in the editing bay.” She consulted her notes. “I thought we’d tape the segments about your initial impressions of what you’re looking for in a true love. Then also discuss what went wrong last time.”

“Nothing like ripping off that bandage.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Let’s get it over with.”

* * *

E
LIZABETH
THUMBED
THROUGH
her cards while Charlie checked the light levels on Rick. She wouldn’t show up on camera, so she was worried less about what she looked like. However, this was the audience’s first look at Rick since his humiliation five years ago. He needed to look good. Confident. Ready to find love again.

Her schedule had the crew arriving tomorrow afternoon, then a short preproduction meeting followed by a tour of the town and facilities. Party plans needed to be finalized. The female contestants arrived two days after that, which meant making sure the houses were ready. Devon would turn up the day after the contestants for the final walk-throughs and rehearsals, and before she could sneeze they’d be airing live.

She rested her head on the back of the sofa and closed her eyes. She thrived on the adrenaline of getting a show off the ground, but sometimes she wondered what it would be like to have a job that began at nine and finished at five. What would it be like to live a normal life?

“We’re ready, E.”

She lifted her head, opened her eyes and prayed that this interview would start things off right.

Charlie handed Rick a clapboard with the identifying information on it: take number, scene number, location and producer. It might seem like a cliché to the viewing audience, but it was vital to the editors who pieced the show together from interviews like this. She read off the information, then said, “Roll cameras.” She adjusted her note cards one more time. She glanced at Rick. “Ready?”

He couldn’t even look at her; he focused on something beyond her against the wall. “Doesn’t really matter, does it?”

She held a finger up to Charlie and leaned toward Rick. “Close your eyes.” He did after a long moment, but he looked as if he didn’t want to. She closed her eyes, as well. “Now, picture the woman you want to spend your life with. Not her physical features, but what she could add to your life. To enrich it. Make it sweeter. What would she be like?”

She opened her eyes and looked at the man before her. She swallowed hard. Those weren’t questions she was ready to answer herself. “Okay. Now open your eyes.” She caught her breath. “Rick, what are you looking for in a true love?”

“My true love is a woman who believes in me.” He smiled. “Even when I’m doing something she thinks is absolutely crazy. A woman who sees me as I am and loves me anyway. Someone who can turn my life upside down, yet make it better. I want a partner. An equal, but someone who’s more than me, like a complement to what I’m not. I want us to be a team. An unbeatable one.”

Elizabeth nodded and made notes. Ideas for other questions that would further probe his answers. “Have you ever met anyone like that?”

He stared down at his hands, then back at her. “I thought I had, but maybe I was wrong.”

“Maybe? Do you mean Brandy?”

He shrugged. “She wanted someone else.”

Charlie grunted and kept filming. Elizabeth turned to the next card. “Why do you think that things didn’t work out last time? And have you learned from your mistakes?”

“Things didn’t work because I was too immature. I didn’t know what I really wanted, but I grabbed on to something that looked awfully close.” He settled farther into his chair and rested his ankle on his other knee. “I’ve learned about myself in the past five years. I know what I want. And I also know that I’m willing to work on finding it.”

She nodded and made more notes, not really paying attention. Was she setting him up for disappointment? Sure, the show was based on the belief in love at first sight (or at least by the sixth week), and as producer of that show, she believed it. Almost. But she’d seen all the relationships forged on her show end in separation. What did that say for true love?

She turned to Charlie. “Cut.” She stood up and moved to the front door. “Let’s take a quick break, Charlie. Get something to eat. Rick, you’re doing great. Just keep concentrating on the mental picture of your true love.” She opened the door. “I’ll be right back.”

She walked down the stairs and found the cook in the kitchen. He flipped burgers and checked orders without a second thought. He was as attuned to his job as she was to hers. She gave the cook a smile. “Hi, Ernesto.”

He nodded at her. “Everything okay?”

“Couldn’t be better.” She looked around for one of the plastic tumblers and filled it with cold water from the tap. Rick didn’t stock his diner with designer bottled water. Or he hadn’t until she’d told him he should for the crew and contestants. She strode to the walk-in and found five cases of bottled water cooling on the shelves.

Just another reminder of how she was turning his normal life inside out. But was it for the better?

She turned back and found Ernesto watching her. “Rick get the espresso machine I sent?”

He turned back to his grill. “More buttons on that thing than you need to launch the space shuttle.”

“He’ll get good use out of it. Especially for the next couple of weeks.” She leaned against the counter. Tried to ignore the stomach grumblings that the aroma of the burgers on the grill caused.

“And after that, what happens?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “It’s his to keep.”

Ernesto and shook his head at her. He pointed to the aprons hanging up. “Dishes need washing if you got time.”

She held up her hands. “They’ve finally recovered since the last time, but I appreciate the invitation.” Maybe she’d offer to buy an industrial dishwasher for the diner, too. “We’ve got more work to do upstairs.”

“Work.”

She nodded. “Interviews. Plotting how the show will go once the women arrive. Making plans.”