“Whatever it was that was scaring fish away, it’s something they weren’t used to seeing. And you’ve got my money on that.”
“Is it something coastal conservation should be concerned about?” Caleb asks. “Has it been overfishing in the area? You know of anybody that’s breaking limits?”
“No, Caleb, nothing like that. It’s good to see you back in town, man. Could use a man like you around here. You helping with cleanup today?”
“Yeah, absolutely,” Caleb says. “I’ll be there.”
“Good. We’ll need all the hands we can get. You two enjoy your breakfast now. And if you go out on the water, watch yourself.”
With that, Paulie gives Pike a nod and goodbye, creaks his way off his stool, and walks out the door. Leaves an ominous feeling in the air behind him when he leaves, too.
Gunner licks my ankle where he can get to it, considering the fact that I’ve triple-rolled the sweatpants from Caleb and they’re still too big.
“I don’t like the sound of that,” I say.
Despite being packed, the noise of the diner creates a cozy background — knives and forks clinking against porcelain,glasses and conversation burbling. It gives the feel of privacy, even though where we’re sitting is anything but.
Caleb’s hand covers mine and he squeezes just as Pike comes over and pours out two cups of coffee for us, piping hot.
“Want anything fancy to drink, Ivy?” he asks. “I’ve got a new fancy espresso machine back there. I’ve been dying to see what you think of my creations.”
A waiter comes by and sets our plates in front of us, piled high. Two bowls of fresh fruit join them, and I realize Pike had his chef pull out all the stops for us two.
“Nah, plain coffee is fine,” I tell Pike. “If I want something fancy later, I can go get it from my store.”
“You trying to say my lattes aren’t good enough for you, girl?” he says.
“I did not say that,” I say. “I’d be happy to try your latte, you’ve just already gone to so much work, and this looks incredible?—"
A laugh rips out of him, and I realize belatedly he’s trying to get me riled up.
“Well, if that’s how you feel, I think I might as well make you one and see what you think. See if I’m good enough for you, Miss Romantic.”
Pike gives an exaggerated wink and walks away.
I cradle my face in my hands, trying to recover a semblance of control. “We need to get that ward up and running again,” I say to Caleb.
“You will, Ivy. You’ll get it done. But you’re not going to get it done without caffeine and on an empty belly, so eat,” he says.
I can’t argue with that and I don’t want to, because the food looks incredible.
No one makes hollandaise sauce in Silverlight Shore like Raymond Pike. The yolk is creamy, perfectly cooked. TheEnglish muffin is somehow the perfect texture of spongy and able to soak up all the delicious sauce on top.
My potatoes are incredible, and I swear this man might be using the same magic I use in my candy store on these potatoes, because I take one bite of the perfect caramelized crispy exterior and the potato melts in my mouth. Spicy, salty, savory. Everything you could ever want in a morning potato hash. Pure, pure potato magic.
Except magic has nothing to do with it at all, and it’s simply an old fisherman’s skill with a skillet.
Good stuff, that.
I inhale the food, savoring it, yes, but eating fast enough that when I finally come up for air, I feel slightly impressed with myself at how quickly the food on my plate disappeared.
When Pike comes back over, grinning at me with a large porcelain white cup — whipped cream practically stacked on top — he gives me a smug look.
“I always like when you come in here, Ivy Romantic. There’s nothing like another master of her craft enjoying your food, is there?”
He carefully sets the mug down, brushing his hands off in front of his apron.
“It was delicious,” I tell him honestly. “I could eat here every day.”
