The Reluctant Bachelor

“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.

* * *

GREENOLIVES. 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.”

“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?”