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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.
    * * *
    G REEN OLIVES . 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?”
    “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