The Reluctant Bachelor (4 page)

“Next town over also has a Meijer, which is open twenty-four hours.” Lizzie’s mouth gaped, and Rick laughed. “We may be backwater, but we do have some conveniences.” He nodded at her empty plate. “So eat some more and then we’ll shop.”

She stifled a yawn. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll be functioning. What time are you planning on torturing me tomorrow?”

She did look exhausted. He’d put her through the wringer and had plans for more. “You did such a great job today, I’ll let you sleep in. We can meet at seven.”

“That’s sleeping in?” she moaned.

He shook his head. “You’ve had early calls for the show. How is this different?”

“For all you know I complained then, too.” She tried to laugh, but it didn’t sound right.

Rick frowned. Something didn’t add up. “I thought you were a producer. Shouldn’t all this be part of your job?” Lizzie stuffed the pickle into her mouth, making talking impossible. His frown deepened. “What aren’t you telling me?”

She chewed, then swallowed. “It’s complicated.”

“You are still on the show, right?”

She nodded. “I’m executive producer. For now.”

“For now?” She was about to fill her mouth with crackers, but he stayed her arm. “Tell me.”

She sighed. “It’s no big deal.”

“If you can’t tell me, then yes, it is.”

She looked down at the plate. Finally, she lifted her gaze to meet his. “If you don’t do the show, we’re canceled.”

CHAPTER FOUR

E
LIZABETH
POURED
the eightieth cup of coffee that morning before returning to the kitchen. Rick turned to beam at her from the dish sink, and her breath caught in her throat. Remind her why this man wasn’t taken. She shook her head at the stupidity of the women in this town out in the sticks. Being small-town didn’t mean being foolish, but these women needed to get a clue and snap Rick up before two dozen gorgeous contestants descended here.

She paused. Was she really considering moving the show? She shook her head. This place was getting to her.

A bell over the door signaled a new customer. Elizabeth took a deep breath and walked into the dining room, almost mowing down an older version of Rick. He glanced at her outfit. “You’re the producer?”

Elizabeth held out her hand. “Dan, right? I’m Elizabeth.” She marveled at the strength of his handshake. “And yes, I’m the producer. But at the moment, I’m a waitress. Can I get you some coffee?”

“He likes it black and strong.” Rick joined them and leaned on the counter. “Shouldn’t you be checking the floats or bands or something?”

Dan accepted the cup she offered him and took a sip. “It’s been done.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Floats?”

Rick nodded toward the windows, where people had started gathering on the sides of Main Street. “The Pickle Parade starts at noon. And Dan the man is the grand marshal again.”

“That’s what I came to talk to Elizabeth about.” Dan leaned against the counter. “Ever ridden in the back of a convertible and waved to a crowd?”

Rick stepped in between them. “Forget it. She’s busy.”

“Pouring coffee and slinging hash? I need her more.” Dan sighed and ran his hand through his hair, reminding Elizabeth of his brother. “Miss Brown County can’t make it now, and the people need to see someone new. Someone classy.” He glanced at Elizabeth. “She’ll have to do.”

She was sure there was a compliment in there somewhere. “I can’t possibly do it dressed like this.” She glanced at her brand-spanking-new purple T-shirt and jeans.

Dan grabbed her hand. “Martha’s across the street. I’m sure she’ll have something that will fit you.”

Rick grabbed her other hand. “Dan, Elizabeth never agreed to do it. When are you going to stop and realize that not everyone jumps when you tell them to?”

Dan pulled her closer to him. “She has to do this. It’s her responsibility.”

Rick tugged her back to his side. “It’s your responsibility to make sure that people show up. Not hers.”

“Gentlemen.” Elizabeth removed her hands from theirs and held them out to separate the brothers. “First of all, I can choose for myself. Second—” she looked between them, then nodded “—I’ll help out.”

Rick stared at her. “Lizzie, you don’t—”

“You wanted me to get to know the community, right?” She smiled wider. “What better way than from the back of a convertible?” She turned to Dan. “So where’s Martha? Let’s see what she has.”

Dan grinned back at her, and she was struck by how good the Allyn boys looked. “I knew I liked you. Come with me.”

* * *

R
ICK
WATCHED
FROM
the sidelines as Lizzie, dressed in a pink sparkly dress, passed by sitting on the back of a red convertible. She even blew a kiss to him. Or perhaps to the kid standing in front of him, but it landed in his general direction. He’d take what he could get.

When the parade ended, he locked up the diner and joined the crowd as they walked down the street to the park, where rides and booths had magically appeared over the past few nights. He found Lizzie still standing near the convertible, surrounded by a group of local men who were trying to get her attention. When she turned and smiled at him, he lost his breath.

Must be the gasoline fumes.

He moved through the crowd and parked himself closest to her. “Madam, I believe we have a date.”

She raised one eyebrow. “We do?”

“With a deep-fried pickle. I believe I promised you one?” He put his hand at the small of her back. “I know where they sell the best.”

She sighed deeply as they left the crowd. “Thanks for the rescue.”

“Part of my service.” He steered her in the direction of the large tent at the center of the park. “They’re smitten with shiny new things.”

She ran her hand down one hip. “Miss Martha does wonders with sequins and a short deadline.”

“You look fabulous.” He motioned to the open tent flaps. “Now, prepare yourself for a culinary treat that few can top.”

He grabbed her hand and walked behind the counters. They skirted past several deep fryers and walked to the far end of the tent. Rick pulled a basket out of one of the fryers and tipped it onto a cloth-covered plate. He held out a golden disk to her lips. “Open.”

Lizzie opened her mouth, and Rick placed the deep-fried pickle on her tongue. “Now, tell me that isn’t the best thing you ever ate.”

She chewed slowly. “It’s good.”

“Good? It’s fabulous.” Rick took one and popped it in his mouth. He closed his eyes and let the flavors play on his tongue.

She swallowed the pickle and looked around the tent. “Are you allowed to come back here and help yourself?”

“My question exactly.” His mom walked around the tables and poked a finger at Rick’s chest. “Who’s watching the diner?”

Rick rubbed his chest. “It’s closed until five for dinner, Ma. It’s fine.”

She shook her head, then glanced at Elizabeth. “Miss Brown County?”

“Not quite. Elizabeth Maier from—”

“
True Love.
Yep.” Rick’s mother glanced at Elizabeth’s outstretched hand but didn’t shake it. “Thought I recognized you. What are you doing here?”

“Ma...” He should have known his mother wouldn’t be happy Lizzie was there. “She’s in town on business.”

“As long as she’s not here to mess with you again.” His mom looked back at Lizzie. “Are you?”

Rick put his hands on his mother’s shoulders. “It’s business, Ma.”

“I asked her, not you.” She moved around him and walked up to Lizzie.

“Ma...” Not that his mom would take the warning, but at least he could say he had tried. He braced himself for the confrontation.

Lizzie looked down at her feet, then up at his mother. “I assure you, Mrs. Allyn, I have the best intentions.”

His mom stared her right in the eyes and gave her the look he’d dreaded as a kid. It meant she knew what he was up to and she wasn’t having one bit of it. “And was it your best intention for my son to get dumped on television?”

“No, but it is my intention to find him a wife.” Lizzie took a step closer so that she could tower slightly over his mom.

Rick watched as the two women squared off, neither one conceding. “Ma, I’m going to show Lizzie more of the festival. But we’ll see you for dinner tomorrow?”

He leaned over and kissed his mom’s cheek. Then he held out his hand to Lizzie. “Now that you’ve tried the fried pickles, you have to taste the dill-pickle soup.”

Lizzie wrinkled her nose, but she followed him.

* * *

T
HIS
SMALL
TOWN
could do things to a person. She’d only been in Lake Mildred two days, and part of her was wondering what living there would be like. People smiled and said hello. Acted as if she’d been one of them for years. She didn’t feel rushed or anxious. She hadn’t thought of her voice mail or email for hours. In fact, she hadn’t glanced at her cell phone since the parade two hours before.

Rick turned toward her when she sighed. “It gets to you, right?”

She shrugged and pulled on the hem of her dress. She should have changed after the parade. Or at least after they’d sampled the fried dill pickles, the dill-pickle soup, the gherkin mousse. She should have passed on that last one. But the pickle pâté had been fabulous. The lure of the festival had kept them in the park, enjoying the booths and the people surrounding them. “I guess it is getting to me.”

He stopped at the ticket booth and purchased two wristbands, then tied one to her wrist. “Which ride should we try first? The tilt-a-whirl or the scrambler?”

She put a hand over her stomach. “I’d like to keep my lunch down, thanks.”

Rick laughed. “Where’s your sense of adventure? Your joie de vivre?”

“It prefers not to spend life with my head in the toilet.” She looked around at the rides. There had to be something tame. “Why not the Ferris wheel?”

Rick glanced up at it, then grabbed her hand and sprinted toward the line. “You won’t believe the view up there. You’ll be able to see the whole town.”

“All square mile of it? Can’t wait.”

When they reached the beginning of the line, Rick let her take a seat first before joining her. They got locked into the seat, then took a deep breath as the operator gave a thumbs-up.

The view at the top took Elizabeth’s breath away. Trees grew lush and green. The sunlight glinted off the lake and winked with the promise of fun times. Small homes were built around the town square and farther beyond. Cottages lined the lakeshore. Part of her suddenly yearned for a place in this community.

Rick nodded. “I told you it was spectacular.”

“You weren’t kidding.” The camera would love it. She turned to him. “You understand that our coming here would forever change the peace and quiet. We couldn’t leave this place as it is now. For months, it would be chaos with the contestants and crew. We’d clog your streets and your businesses, and leave the mess for you to clean up. And then the gawkers would descend.”

“What I know is that it would bring jobs and money to people who need both more than you know.” He pointed at a home with a tree house in the backyard. “It would mean Steve wouldn’t lose his house.” He pointed to another with a covered porch. “Or that Shelly could feed her kids this winter.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes. She knew what it was like to be hungry. What it meant not to know if there would be dinner that night. “I can’t guarantee Devon will go for this idea.”

Rick settled back into the seat. “You tell him it’s either you have me here or I don’t do it at all.”

“That’s a pretty big threat.”

He reached out and touched her hand. “I won’t let you lose your job over me, but I won’t lose myself in the process, either. I’m not going to lie, the idea of doing the show again is making me quake in my sneakers. But as long as we can establish some ground rules, if we can do it my way, then everyone will be happy.”

Uh-oh. His way?
She was the producer here, not him. “You ask for a lot.”

Rick shrugged. “So do you.”

She watched the emotions play over his face. He wanted to save this town, but at what cost to himself? He was a good man. Too good for this business. Elizabeth reached out and touched his face, then snapped her hand back as if he’d burned her. What was she doing?

“Lizzie.” The hoarseness of his voice seemed to shock even him.

“Elizabeth.”

He leaned back and looked out over the treetops. “Come to Sunday dinner tomorrow afternoon at my mom’s.”

After the confrontation in the food tent, that was a shock. “Why?”

He turned to her. “Because that’s what I do every Sunday. Spend it with my family. And maybe if we talk some more, we can figure this out. Give my mom a second chance. Isn’t that what you’re offering me here?”

Was it? Elizabeth wasn’t sure anymore.

* * *

E
LIZABETH
ADJUSTED
her black skirt and straightened her pink linen jacket while wondering for the eighty-ninth time why she had agreed to do this. She’d gone to great lengths to secure contestants in the past, but this topped them all.

She exhaled as she saw Rick come down the back stairs from his apartment to where she waited by her convertible.

“Good morning.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

She glanced at her watch. “It’s technically afternoon.”

Rick grinned and shrugged. “Close enough.” He moved next to her to lean against the car. “Ready for this?”

Elizabeth’s insides vibrated with tension, and she clutched her stomach. “I’m not hungry.”

“We’ll eat. Talk. Maybe watch a ball game. And have a great afternoon.” He bumped her shoulder with his. “My family wants to get to know you.”

Why?
She was about to change Rick’s life again. Maybe coming here hadn’t been a good idea. If she hadn’t been so worried about her job... Instead of asking, she smiled. “Then I’d love to.”

Rick’s shoulders sagged in what looked like relief. “Thanks. You’ll be saving us from a week of leftovers—roast-beef sandwiches, roast-beef salad, beef pâté.”

Elizabeth wiped the sweat off the back of her neck. “Your mother made a roast in this heat?”

Rick shrugged. “She likes to cook.”

What would it have been like to have grown up with a mom like that? Elizabeth couldn’t even begin to imagine. “Is that where you learned it?”

He nodded. “She taught me everything I know. She’s the best.”

“Which you obviously use in your job.” She turned and looked at him. “Did you know the diner would be your life the last time I saw you?”

He took so long in answering her, she thought at first he hadn’t heard what she’d said. At last, he sighed. “No, it’s not where I pictured my life passing. I imagined ball fields and team buses. But things changed after the car accident. And the diner stepped in and took the place of that dream. I spend most of my days there because it’s easier than looking at my life and wondering what the future holds.”

“So what do you want?”

He patted his stomach. “To go to lunch. I’m starving.”

She unlocked her car door and stood in the opening while she looked at him. “Should I follow you out to your mom’s?”

Rick peered past her to the inside of her car. “Actually, I’ll ride with you. Can we put the top down?”

She shook her head. “You’re worse than a kid.”

He grinned at her, and a punch landed in her stomach.
Wow.

With his help, they put the soft top down on the convertible and she settled into the driver’s seat. He bounced slightly in the seat and tried all the knobs on the dashboard. She playfully swatted his hand, then turned the key in the ignition. “It’s a car, not a toy.”