The Reluctant Bachelor

by Syndi Powell

  Elizabeth looked up. Not a cloud could be seen in the sky. “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Your rental agreement covers water damage?”

  “There’s no possibility of rain.” Besides, when in all of her twenty-eight years had she done something just because some man told her to? She hopped up into the truck, clicked the seat belt into place and turned to Rick. “I don’t understand why you won’t do the show.”

  Rick sighed and shifted the truck into Drive. “You’re relentless.”

  “That’s why I’m the best.” Because she knew which buttons to push to get what she wanted. She only needed to dig a little more. “It’s a great opportunity. Aren’t you interested in finding love? In meeting the woman you’re destined to spend the rest of your life with?” She leaned closer, her voice softer, more intimate. “It can work this time. I know it.”

  “Why? It didn’t back then.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the Kenny Chesney song playing on the radio. “Call me crazy, but I don’t relish the idea of going through that again.”

  “It will be different.”

  “How? I’ll still be making a fool of myself on TV.” He shifted his gaze to her. “Besides, I had more fun talking with you between takes than on any of those fantasy dates you sent me on.”

  She glanced at him before looking out the window again. “Everyone wants you back.”

  “Everyone?”

  She could feel the heat in her cheeks. “You’re the most popular contestant the show has ever had. We get hundreds of letters a week asking us to bring you back.” She faced him again. “You owe it to America to be on the show.”

  “Somehow I think you’re exaggerating things.”

  She was losing him. He wasn’t interested in money, love or fame. What else could he want? She changed gears. “If this is about reliving history, we’ll do a better job this time. You won’t end up humiliated and alone.”

  “It must be nice to control the universe.”

  She reached over and put a hand on his arm. Ignored the skitter in her stomach at the feel of his muscles underneath the denim jacket. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll guarantee it.”

  He turned into the parking lot of the diner and parked in the back. “Time’s up.”

  She sighed. When had she lost her touch? Men jumped at the chance to have twenty-four beautiful women fawning over them. But then Rick had never been a typical man. “If you would just give me a chance...”

  He scratched his head and replaced his ball cap. “Think that’s what I just did.” He got out of the truck, then poked his head back in. “See you inside.”

  Elizabeth watched him walk toward the diner. She could hear the loud shouts from those inside as he entered. She had to make him realize he needed to be on the show. Give him the thing he wanted most, whatever that was.

  The perfect cheeseburger. That was what she wanted more than anything. Unfortunately, she didn’t eat cheeseburgers anymore. And it didn’t help that she sat outside a diner that she suspected must serve them to perfection.

  Elizabeth slammed her hand on the dashboard, then tried to shake away the pain. This was crazy. She could have sent anyone else to come out here to talk to Rick, so why torture herself?

  Her cell phone sang a Diana Ross tune, and a chill passed over her. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Bethie, I’m in an awful fix.”

  Elizabeth closed her eyes. How many times had she heard those same words? “Who was he this time?”

  “I didn’t know he was married. Honest.” Her mom sighed. “And now he fired me.”

  Of course. They always did. “Mom, I can’t talk right now. I’m working.”

  “I only need a couple of hundred this time.” Her mom’s voice became whiny, which was not a good sign. “My rent is overdue, and my cupboards are bare. Please, Bethie. You remember what this is like.”

  The goose bumps intensified on Elizabeth’s arms, and she shivered. She couldn’t forget, even in her nightmares. “Have you been looking for a job?”

  “I’ve applied at a few restaurants, but you know how this economy is.” Her mom started crying. “Who’s gonna hire a washed-up waitress when they could hire any of a dozen half my age? What am I gonna do?”

  Elizabeth swallowed and closed her eyes, massaging her forehead in circles as if the motion would turn back time. Give her a different mother. A different childhood. “Tell me where to send it. I’ll have it there by tomorrow morning.”

  “You’re the best daughter, Bethie.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “I love you.”

  Her phone beeped, and she glanced at the incoming phone number. The head of development at the studio. “Mom, I’ve got another phone call coming in. Text me with the details later, okay?”

  She switched to the other line. “Elizabeth Maier.”

  “Did he sign the contracts yet?”

  She wasn’t ready to deal with pressure from the studio. Couldn’t he give her a few days at least? “You’re always to the point, Devon.”

  “That’s why they pay me the big bucks.” He chuckled on the other end. “I don’t need to remind you what’s at stake. We want Rick.”

  That had been made abundantly clear. “Yes, sir.”

  “You got this job because you promised results. Don’t let us down.”

  “I always deliver.” Always had. Always would. She straightened her blouse and sat up straighter. “That’s why you promoted me.”

  “Didn’t hurt that your boss was having an inappropriate relationship with one of the bachelorettes, either.” Devon paused. “The story’s been leaked on the internet and hits the newsstands tomorrow.”

  Just what she didn’t need. This could make her job even harder. “So much for sitting on the scandal.”

  “We need a home run for this show or the studio’s pulling the plug, Elizabeth.” He let that sink in. “And you promised that Rick would be ratings gold.”

  “He was last time.”

  “So get him to sign. Or...”

  The threat hung unspoken between them. Elizabeth cleared her throat. “It’s like I told you. I always deliver. He’ll do it.”

  Devon hung up the phone on his end. Elizabeth stared at her cell before quietly turning it off and placing it in her bag. So it was Rick and her job or nothing.

  A sudden chill made her shiver again, and she rubbed her arms. She couldn’t go back to the ways of her childhood. To not knowing where she would live or what she would eat. She’d scratched and clawed her way out of poverty and would never return.

  Never.

  She needed a new plan. Because more than Rick’s future was on the line.

  * * *

  WHEN RICK ENTERED the diner full of folks in bright green uniforms, applause broke out. He held up his hands to summon quiet for a moment. “This is definitely a night to celebrate. And luckily, we know exactly how to do that at the diner.”

  Cheers sounded around the dining room. Rick walked behind the counter, found an apron and put it on over his softball uniform. His employees looked as if they’d already been taking drink orders, so Rick started at one end of the diner and took food orders. The bell above the front door jingled. Lizzie nodded at him before taking a seat at a table with Jeffy and his mother.

  Once everyone had given their orders and food was delivered, Rick drifted over to stand by Jeffy, who smiled around a big bite of his bacon double cheeseburger. Lizzie picked at her chef’s salad, dressing on the side, but stared at Jeffy’s burger. Some people and their dinner choices. “You doing okay here?”

  Jeffy’s mom finished her strawberry shake. “Couldn’t be better. Could we, Jeffy?”

  Jeffy nodded and gave him a thumbs-up. Rick grinned back. “You folks enjoy your dinner. It’s
on me tonight. Gotta keep my champ happy so he’ll play for me next year.”

  He walked to each table, stopping to chat for a while with team members and their families. That was why the diner sponsored a team every year. Sure, the trophy this year would look great proudly displayed by the cash register. But it was about the friendships that survived off the field year after year. Rick’s family was more than just his mom and brother. This team was as close to him as blood. Family forged by sweat.

  By the time the last fry had been eaten and the last plate cleared from each table, Rick was ready to collapse on his sofa and call it a night. Unfortunately, an hour remained until closing, and the dirty dishes soaking in the sink called his name. He groaned and rolled his shoulders to loosen them. A clap of thunder caught his attention. His eyes fastened on Lizzie, whose own eyes opened wide in fear.

  She rose on one knee and glanced out the window to watch torrents of rain. “My leather seats!”

  Gotta love Michigan weather.

  Not that he hadn’t warned her. The problem was that she had no clue about how his life really worked. And maybe that was his solution to getting rid of her. He supposed if he couldn’t get rid of her, maybe he could convince her to do the show his way, in his hometown. If he could gain some control that way, he might agree to it. He approached her table and watched the summer rain pound the parking lot. “That’s why you have insurance.”

  She turned and shrugged at him, but her lower lip still jutted out farther than her top lip. Not that he should be looking at her mouth. Instead, he let his gaze settle on the unshed tears in her grass-green eyes. Man, he couldn’t stand to see a woman cry. “Listen, I have an idea.”

  She brightened slightly. “You’ll do the show.”

  He sighed. Relentless. “I can’t leave my life for three months while you and the other execs mess with it.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’re suggesting a compromise?”

  He put one hand on the table and the other on the back of the booth. Leaned in close enough to catch a whiff of her perfume. “I’m suggesting that you spend a week getting to know me. The real me. How my life really works now. And not that Hollywood version you created.” He sighed and shook his head. “How can I expect to find my true love if she doesn’t meet me where I live?”

  Lizzie shook her head and glanced around the diner. Sure, it could use a gallon of paint and even more of elbow grease, but this was home to him. When she turned to face him again, she was still shaking her head. “People want fantasy in their reality TV shows. Ironic but true.”

  “There is an appeal to small-town living. The pull to lead a simpler life.” He leaned in even closer to her. “Give me the chance to prove it to you.”

  Her eyes sparked with interest. “I give you a week to convince me, and what do you give me?”

  He sighed. Definitely relentless. “If I can prove to you that we could do the show here, then I’ll do it. I’ll be your guinea pig again.”

  “You really mean that?” A smile played around her mouth.

  He held out his hand. “You give me a chance, and I’ll give you one.” They shook on it. Rick nodded. “Good. We’ll start here at five tomorrow morning.”

  The panic in Lizzie’s eyes made it all worthwhile.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ELIZABETH ARRIVED at the diner when the sky was still a dark grayish-blue with only a hint of pink in the direction of the unrisen sun. Even the roosters had enough sense to keep sleeping, but here she stood. Waiting for Rick to come down and let her in to the diner to start their...what had he called it? Small-town education?

  She lightly tapped her cheeks in an effort to wake herself. This tired feeling was more than jet lag. She’d dealt with that often enough to be immune to its effects. Maybe it was the déjà vu being in a small town had brought out. She’d grown up in hick towns; her mother worked restaurant jobs with their low wages, meager tips and free food. And the chance that Elizabeth could sit in a booth for a few hours so her mom didn’t have to pay a babysitter.

  Before she could plumb her past any further, the door opened and Rick stood there smiling at her. He should look as tired as she felt, but instead he beamed at her as he ushered her inside. “Ready for your first look at my life?”

  She stifled a yawn and nodded. “Does the first look have to come so early?”

  “My day usually starts an hour before this, but I thought I’d give you a break.” He leaned toward her, and for a brief moment she wondered if he was going to kiss her. He reached past to turn the sign on the door to Open.

  He motioned for her to follow him, and she walked behind him into the kitchen. Savory smells of bacon and sausage assaulted her, making her stomach growl. What she wouldn’t give for a sausage patty right now. He opened an oven door, peered in, then adjusted the temperature. When he turned back to face her, he frowned. “Why are you wearing that?”

  She glanced down at the outfit she had painstakingly chosen for their day: one of her best power suits in cherry-red and teetering black heels. “I believe you mentioned I’d be meeting people from your town.”

  He nodded. “And they’ll eat you alive wearing that. Don’t you own a pair of jeans?”

  Denim wasn’t exactly a staple in her wardrobe, but glancing at what Rick was wearing told her it was a part of his. She wiped at an imaginary smudge on her skirt. “I’m sure your friends will appreciate good taste.”

  “The grease will ruin that fancy getup within the hour. Go back to your hotel and change.” He turned his back to her and started whisking eggs with flour.

  Grease? There’d been no mention of that when they’d made plans for today. What exactly was he planning? “You don’t expect me to actually work here, do you?”

  Rick turned back to her with a dazzling smile. It was easy to see why the cameras fell in love with him. “You wanted a glimpse into my life, right? Since Mom handed the diner over to me, I’m here twelve hours a day, six days a week. So that’s where we’re starting.”

  She crossed her arms across her chest. Nope. Not happening. “You don’t have anyone to cover for you today?”

  “It’s the Lake Mildred Pickle Festival. Busiest weekend of the summer. I’m going to be swamped with orders in about ten minutes and won’t get a break until after the Ladies’ Book Club finishes their last cup of coffee.” He continued to whisk and paused only to add more flour.

  She glared, hoping that the effect would turn him into stone. “I thought you were the owner and manager here.”

  “I’m whatever they need me to be. Besides, it’s fun.”

  Sigh. Not her idea of fun. “And I’m supposed to help you out?”

  “That’s the idea, Lizzie.”

  She grumbled on the drive back to the bed-and-breakfast to change into the outfit she’d least likely have a fit over if it got ruined. She fumed as she drove back to the diner and parked behind it, where the employees left their cars. And she moaned when Rick threw a clean apron at her and pointed to the stack of dishes that had accumulated in her absence. “Washing dishes? Really?”

  Rick started to whistle as he placed slices of bread in a large toaster and pressed the lever. “It’s where all good cooks start.”

  “But I’m not a cook,” she muttered under her breath. She couldn’t even make toast without setting off the smoke detectors in her apartment.

  She wrinkled her nose at the dried gobs of egg and grease on the first plate. There had to be better ways to get Rick to do the show than this. She glanced behind her at the man in question, who cracked eggs onto the hot griddle. If she could just find out why he’d done the show the first time...

  “Dishes don’t wash themselves, Lizzie.” He threw the eggshells into the large trash can next to him as if they were basketballs and he were Kobe Bryant. He walked over and turned on the hot water, then sq
ueezed a healthy dollop of dish soap into the sink. Pointed to the three sinks, the last full of clear liquid. “Wash. Rinse. Sanitize.” He pulled the hose closer to her. “And don’t be afraid to get a little wet.”

  She rolled her eyes and dropped the first dish into the sudsy water.

  * * *

  RICK SWALLOWED A LAUGH as Lizzie glared at him over her coffee cup. She looked like a drowned rat. Her long brown hair was plastered to the sides of her head; her clothes clung to her slight form. Her carefully applied makeup had run two hours ago, leaving her face streaked in brown and blue. “Good job, Lizzie.”

  She rolled her eyes and forked a bite of French toast into her mouth, pausing to moan after the first bite. “What do you put in these?”

  He shrugged. “Little cinnamon. Lots of love.”

  Again with the rolled eyes. She’d be lucky to end the day without a massive headache if she kept that up.

  “So are you done torturing me?”

  Torture. Interesting word choice. She’d agreed to get a glimpse of his normal life, and now she considered it inhumane. If only she knew. “You’ll probably want to freshen up before the lunch crowd gets here.” Panic washed over her face, but he held up one hand. “Don’t worry. You’re done with the dishes. Jeffy should be here anytime.”

  Her shoulders relaxed. “Thank goodness.”

  “But I am short a waitress.”

  Lizzie stood up and threw her napkin on the table before storming out of the diner. Rick chuckled and took another sip of his coffee. Mission accomplished. Better that she leave now than wait until it was too late.

  The bell above the door chimed again. “Ricky.”

  He glanced up and swallowed a groan at the sight of his older brother, Dan, wearing a suit and tie. If Mr. High and Mighty stooped to grace the diner with his presence, the news couldn’t be good. Didn’t matter that the diner belonged to the family empire along with the pickle-canning plant and brightly colored cans of pickles on store shelves. Rick knew that the diner didn’t even register on Dan’s radar.