by Syndi Powell
“And now you do?”
Elizabeth leaned forward. Rick was asking the questions America wanted to know, too. She gave a silent prayer that viewers were tuning in to hear Brandy’s answers.
Brandy nodded. “I know better now. I’m ready to be better this time.”
It was an answer that would be quoted ad nauseam after they aired, Elizabeth knew. One she would make sure was posted on their website. It was an answer that sounded good, despite the fact that she doubted it. Maybe Brandy really did want to be better this time.
And maybe Elizabeth was wrong about the attraction she’d sensed between Brandy and Dan.
Brandy gave a soft smile, then raised her water glass. “To Rick, a new man with a new mission.”
He raised his own glass and clinked it with hers. After they had taken a sip, Rick kept his gaze on hers and nodded. “To second chances.”
Elizabeth hoped the same thing for Rick, a man who deserved another chance.
* * *
RICK PUT HIS ARM around Brandy’s shoulder as they took their moonlit walk down Main Street. The darkened storefronts added a hint of mystery and romance with the glow of the streetlamps lighting their path only a few steps at a time.
Being with Brandy felt comfortable. Familiar. He’d been here before. He could easily fall back into love again. After all, five years could be nothing.
Brandy leaned her head on his shoulder, and Rick pulled her in tighter. “I’m glad you’re here.”
She sighed, and her body seemed to melt further into his. “I’m glad I came.”
They walked to the end of the street, then turned back. Rick could see a dark sedan parked in front of the diner. “Looks like my brother wants to see me.”
Brandy’s body tensed but remained glued to his side. She looked away from the car and focused on him. “Dan seems nice.”
“He can be. But then he’s my older brother so I remember all the lame things he did growing up.” He chuckled and pulled her closer. Tried to ignore the fact that she didn’t respond as quickly as she had earlier. “Before we get back, I’d like to talk to you about something.”
She didn’t say anything. Seemed to wait on his next words.
He held out the small jewelry box. “If I give you the immunity charm—”
“Rick, don’t.” She pushed the box back into his hands and stepped away from him.
He frowned and stopped walking. Waited until she looked up at him. “Don’t you want to stay?”
“Of course I do.” She bit her lip, a habit that had enthralled and frustrated him before. “But I need to earn my place here just like all the other girls.”
Rick held the box out again. “You already have. I want you to have this.” She shook her head and started walking back to the diner. Rick had to sprint to keep up with her fast little legs. “Brandy, I want you to stay.”
She turned and faced him. “Give the charm to someone else this week.”
He thought he understood. He could remember what it was like returning from one of their dates with the charm. It made things tense with the other guys, even those he’d become friends with. He put the box back into his pocket. “Are things bad back at the house?”
She shrugged, then nodded. “They don’t like me. Well, except Melissa. She’s a sweetheart.” She picked at her mittens. “Giving me the charm this week would only make it worse. Please don’t.”
Rick nodded, then pulled her back into his arms. “Okay. You’re the boss.”
Brandy giggled, and the heaviness in his heart lightened slightly.
CHAPTER TWELVE
RICK TURNED the open sign and unlocked the doors to the diner. After several weeks playing bachelor, he welcomed the chance to get back to a seminormal schedule.
Last night’s elimination hadn’t been a surprise to anyone. Mona needed to go home, and he had been more than happy to send her. They were down to six women—Melissa, Brandy, Becky, Jenn, Leslie and Vanessa. The only one he wasn’t sure was meant for small-town life was the last. They’d barely spoken except for that moment by the lake with their dogs, but tonight’s one-on-one would change that.
The bell over the door tinkled, and Mr. Crosby walked in followed by his pals Mr. Teetum and Mr. White. “Hey, fellas, I’ve got fresh coffee.”
They waved their agreement and took their usual spot at a table near the back, where they’d spend the next four hours discussing sports and politics and drinking coffee. Rick snagged three mugs and the carafe.
Once the men were settled, Rick discovered that Lizzie had called a crew meeting at the front of his diner. Troy, Charlie, Eddie and Nick, the sound guy, perused menus while Lizzie chirped on the phone. He grabbed four mugs and met them at the table. “Gentlemen, lady, can I interest you in some coffee?”
Charlie accepted a mug, as did Nick. Eddie shook his head. “I’ll take an espresso, though. Elizabeth told me you got the new machine.”
Rick raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “It’s been over a month, so it’s hardly new. Single or double?”
Eddie grinned. “Surprise me.”
Rick turned to Lizzie, who held up her finger at him as she hissed into the phone. Obviously a bad morning. He poured her a cup of regular coffee, then left to get Eddie’s espresso order.
When he returned with Eddie’s drink, Lizzie had finished her call and was going over notes with her crew. “The set looks dark on air. Charlie, that’s your expertise. Brighten it up. Bring in more lamps. I don’t care. Fix it.”
Charlie nodded and took notes on his napkin.
Lizzie turned to Eddie, who guzzled the espresso, then held his tiny cup out for Rick to refill. “I’m also not happy that you’re choosing your own footage. You’ve got your shot list. Stick to it.”
“Then we lose the candid moments.” Eddie leaned in. “Like the criers the past few weeks. The audience eats that stuff up, you know.”
“So you’re producing the show, too, now?” Lizzie shook her head. “Stick to your list. And leave the editing decisions to Troy and me.”
“I’m trying to make this tired show into something magnificent.” Eddie stood and slammed down his cup. “If you’re done yelling, I’m outta here.”
Lizzie stood and glared at her cameraman. Rick took a step closer in case she needed him to knock some sense into the kid. She shook her head at Rick and he took a step back. “We’re done when I say we’re done. And these are just the beginning of the notes I have from last night’s show.”
Rick passed out menus. “Why don’t you order some food to go with those notes? Everybody feels better with some food in their stomach.”
Lizzie seemed to sigh in relief. “Thanks, Rick. That’s a great idea.”
After they had made their selections, Rick left to give their order to Ernesto. The diner was still short a waitress, and Rick had interviews scheduled for later that week. Which gave him an idea.
As he delivered their breakfasts, he leaned against their table. “I’ve got another great idea.”
Lizzie groaned, which made her crew grin. “What’s it going to cost me?”
“That’s the beauty. Not a thing.” He leaned down, inviting them to draw in. “What about putting the remaining six in a waitressing competition? See who’s got the stuff to work here, be a true partner.”
Lizzie whistled. “When you get good ideas, you really do. I like it.” She turned to her crew. “How much of a logistical nightmare would it be to film?”
Charlie glanced around the diner. “Lighting’s an issue. Sound might be another story, but it could work.”
“Thanks, Rick. We’ll schedule it just before the next elimination.”
Rick hummed a tune as he returned to the kitchen.
* * *
ELIZABETH WAS SMART enough to know
when someone had a better idea and to use it. She liked the idea of having the women wearing waitress outfits and being put through the same test Rick had put her through before agreeing to do the show. It was character building. And it made great television. She’d made a list of items she needed to pick up as well as a schedule of what needed to be done and where.
She picked at her cold piece of toast. Her crew had left a few minutes ago, after being given their assignments for the day. Charlie was filming tonight’s one-on-one with Rick and Vanessa, while Eddie got assigned the women’s house and candid interviews. She reviewed her clipboard, then rose to her feet to find Rick.
He sat at the counter in the kitchen eating hash browns loaded with sour cream and green onions. She wrinkled her nose. “You really eat that?”
Rick motioned her closer and held up a fork. “Taste it first. Then tell me what you think.”
She approached him and opened her mouth. The first taste was creamy and tangy followed by the bite and snap of the onion. She closed her eyes and swallowed. “Oh, my, that is good.”
Rick smirked and returned to eating his breakfast. “You needed something?”
“That idea of yours is inspired.” She leaned against the counter, facing him. “I should listen to you more.”
“I do have good ideas every once and a while.” He shrugged. “Not that many people listen to them.”
Probably thinking of his brother. “Then they’re really missing out.”
Rick reached up and wiped the side of her mouth with one finger. Her skin tingled at his touch, and her mouth opened slightly.
He held out his finger. “Sour cream.”
She wiped the side of her mouth he’d just touched. “Right. Thanks.”
A noise outside the kitchen door caught her attention, but no one was there. Probably her imagination. “Good luck tonight. Vanessa might be a hard sell on the whole small-town-living thing.”
“Maybe she has reason to be.”
“You cut people a lot of slack. Whether they deserve it or not.” She stood and adjusted her coat. “That’s what makes you one of the nice guys.”
“I try.” He motioned to the pile of dirty dishes near the sink. “Feel like washing some for old times’ sake?”
She held up her hands. “I need these today. But thanks.” She laughed and walked out of the kitchen. Made a note to finally get him that industrial dishwasher.
* * *
VANESSA LOOKED LOVELY in a red satin dress. The fact that it was strapless and the weather was more suitable for sweaters didn’t seem to faze her. Rick glanced at the program. It constantly amazed him that Lizzie could come up with fresh ideas for dates in such a small town. Tonight’s date was a play put on by a nearby community theater. It wouldn’t be Broadway, but it promised to be entertaining.
Rick leaned closer to Vanessa, catching a hint of orange blossoms. “So you’re a dental hygienist?”
She looked up at him and considered him before answering. “Actually, I had to quit to come on the show.”
He frowned. Not a smart move in a shaky economy. “Why would you quit a job?”
“Why would you come back on television to find a wife?” She adjusted the top of her dress. “I felt I had no other choice.”
He swallowed at the sudden pressure in his throat. Wanted to wipe at the moisture he was sure gathered at his temples. Had they turned up the heat in the theater? “And what if this doesn’t work out?”
Vanessa shrugged. “I’ll find another job. I might not get another chance like this with a nice guy.” She placed her hand on his arm.
“You don’t date nice guys?”
She gave a soft smile but it had a tinge of bitterness. “I have the bad habit of dating the wrong ones.”
Rick understood. Hadn’t he had his own share of dates with women who were definitely wrong? “So what are you looking for in a man?”
She removed her hand from his arm and placed it on his thigh, caressing his leg. Rick didn’t move away despite the panic it brought him. “Nice. Good-looking. Someone who makes me laugh.”
He chuckled. “Have I told you the one about a duck that walks into a bar?”
Vanessa laughed harder than was necessary. Rick frowned at the response. He was looking for something real, but this wasn’t it.
Real was Melissa. Maybe even Brandy.
Or Lizzie.
He welcomed the anonymity of the darkened theater as the production began onstage. Gave him time to consider that last name.
* * *
ELIZABETH STARED at the images on the computer screen.
No. Not possible.
Yet there they were. In Rick’s kitchen. They appeared cozy. Intimate. She paled as she saw the picture of Rick touching the corner of her mouth. This looked bad.
Her cell phone chirped, but she ignored it. She searched Rick’s name on Google and grimaced when six websites came up boasting the same pictures. Headlines of True Love for Producer and Bachelor? and It’s Getting Hot in the Kitchen screamed from her computer screen.
Obviously someone had been spying on them and taking pictures. But who? Someone in town? One of her own crew? Wally Ray?
She picked up her cell phone and saw she’d missed Devon’s call. So she wasn’t the only one who had seen these. Instead of calling him back, however, she grabbed her jacket and headed out the door. Time to talk to the weasel himself.
Wally Ray didn’t answer when she pounded on his motel door. A glimpse under the door and through the crack of the drapes revealed no lights inside. She walked back to the parking lot and glanced up and down the street. Wally Ray was a drunk, but he wasn’t an idiot. He’d walk to the nearest bar rather than risk driving anywhere farther out.
She found him at the Rusty Nail, nursing a beer and yelling at the television. She stood in front of him, blocking his view. “Hey, I got money on that game.”
She stayed where she was and crossed her arms. “Who gave you those pictures?”
Wally Ray took a sip of his beer. “Saw them, huh? They’re good. And I got paid coupla times over for them, too.” He snickered. “Everyone loves a scandal.”
She grimaced and shook her head. “There’s nothing going on.”
Wally Ray licked his lips. “You sure? ’Cuz it looked like a big something to me.”
She leaned down and tried not to tip his chair over. He wouldn’t get away with this. “Rick is a good guy. Decent. Leave him alone.”
“Is that why you’re with him?”
She stood and shook her head. “I’m not. We’re not.” She ran a hand through her hair. “We’re friends.”
“I gotta get me a friend like you, then.” He started to sip his beer, but she took it from him. “Hey, I paid for that.”
“Who took those pictures?” When he tried to take his glass back, she held it higher. “Tell me and you get it back.”
“I can order another.”
He held up his hand to the bartender. But Elizabeth waved him off. “Be the nice guy for a change. Where did you get these photos?”
“Sweetheart, I get paid well for those photos. And I get paid more to keep my mouth shut.” He stood and looked up at her. “Now, unless you have a nice big figure in mind, I’m gonna find me a drink.”
Elizabeth growled and left the bar. Her cell phone sang a Diana Ross song, and she prepared herself for bad news. “What happened this time, Mom?”
But the gruff voice that answered didn’t belong to her mother. “Ms. Maier, your mother is in the hospital.”
* * *
CHARLIE PUT THE CAMERA equipment in the back of the limo, then joined Rick and Vanessa inside. The performance had been good, but hardly prizewinning. Still, Rick made a note to see more of these productions. Support some of the local theater. Migh
t be nice to support someone else’s dreams for once.
Charlie’s phone rang. While he answered it, Rick glanced at Vanessa. She patted her hair into place despite the fact that it looked perfect. He tried to imagine what a future with her would be like. “Did you enjoy the play?”
She shrugged and gazed out the window. Rick sighed and tried to find something to talk about. “Ernesto made Italian cream cake today at the diner. I’ve got three pieces with our names on them. What do you say?”
Charlie snapped his phone shut. “Can’t. E needs to see you right away.”
That didn’t sound good. “Everything okay?”
Charlie didn’t answer; he leaned toward the driver and changed their destination to the house where the women lived. The rest of the car ride was silent. Rick tried to figure out why he felt as if he were a child waiting for his father to come home and discipline him. Something wasn’t right. And he had no idea what it could be.
The driver let Vanessa out at the women’s house, then sped off toward the hotel where Lizzie and the crew were staying. Rick turned to Charlie. “Not even a hint about what’s going on?”
“E will go over it with you.” The cameraman didn’t elaborate, but by the grim set of his mouth, it wasn’t good.
“Okay.” Rick settled back into the seat, gazing out the window as they passed through Lake Mildred. He glanced at his dark apartment and diner, wishing he could end the night alone. Maybe catch the sports report on the news.
They arrived at the hotel, and Charlie quietly escorted Rick to one of the conference rooms, where crew members milled around talking on phones, typing on computers, ignoring them. Rick spotted Lizzie across the room on the phone. He didn’t need to hear the words to know that she was upset. She paced. Shouted. Shook her head. Talked with her hands even though the person on the other side couldn’t see them.
When she looked up and saw him and Charlie, she stalked toward them. Charlie patted Rick’s shoulder and left. Rick glanced at his retreating figure and swallowed at the panic rising in his throat. What happened to sticking together?
Lizzie grabbed a stack of photos from one of the tables and thrust them at Rick. “What do you know about these?”
