He offered her a seat on the sofa in the open-plan living area attached to the kitchen, and she sat down while he went around the island, washed his hands, and opened the fridge.
His furniture was simple, manly, but looked carefully chosen. The deep couch in soft neutrals complemented a rugged wooden coffee table and a worn surfboard mounted on the wall like art.
“You surf too?” she called over to him.
“No. Definitely not. It was left by the previous owner, and I didn’t know what to put there, so I left it.”
She twisted around to see him. The kitchen was small, but neat and efficient, with open shelving and a few vintage touches that revealed his occupation: a French press, handmade pottery mugs hanging from hooks, and a collection of spices intentionally arranged. It seemed he lived there with purpose, as if he found peace in order. She could totally relate.
Patrick brought over her glass, then sat across from her with his own. “I’ve got shrimp, oysters, flounder, crab, or steak,” he said. “What sounds good to you?”
“Surprise me,” she replied.
“All right.” He got back up and handed her the TV remote. “Make yourself comfortable.”
She set the remote on the coffee table, stood up, and followed him into the kitchen, taking a seat across from him on a wooden barstool. A glimmer of fondness shone in his eyes, and he quickly turned away, pulling covered containers out of the fridge. He worked quietly, as usual, busy with the cooking tasks.
“We’re having crab cakes,” he said, greasing a cast-iron pan and then chopping parsley on a wooden cutting board.
The small kitchen filled quickly with the scent of Old Bay and salty butter as he moved between the narrow counter and the stovetop. There was barely enough room for the mixing bowl, but he managed with precision, gently folding lump crab, breadcrumbs, filling, and the parsley with practiced hands.
The skillet hissed as the first crab cake hit the oil, golden edges forming almost instantly in the hot pan. Steam rose while he flipped each cake with care, mindful not to break theirdelicate shape. He turned down the heat and whipped together a vinaigrette before tossing some salad fixings together. He combined the vegetables with the dressing and plated them. Then he slid the spatula under each crab cake, adding it to their plates.
“Here you go.” Patrick gestured to the bistro-sized dining set against the wall by the window and then brought their dishes over.
Emily followed him to the table.
Once she was settled, she tucked into her meal. The crab meat was seasoned just enough to enhance the flavor without overpowering it, with a fresh touch from seasonal herbs. The texture was crispy, and only after her first bite did she notice the hint of a tangy contrast to the sweet, buttery flavor of the crab from a sauce he’d hidden under the cake.
“I can’t imagine being able to cook like this for every meal,” she said, still delighting in the dish.
“Well, I don’t usually. After cooking all day, most of the time I heat up a frozen pizza, if I’m lucky.”
“But you’re so talented. You don’t treat yourself?”
“I only cook at home when I have someone to cook for. Which is rare, apart from Julia and Winston.” He shook his head. “Speaking of cooking, he wants me to make homemade dog treats for Stormy. Dog food isn’t in my repertoire. I’ll have to look online for a recipe.”
“I’d love to help you now if you have time.”
“Doyouhave time?”
“I’m free until this evening. Sienna revealed the news to her husband Tyson that she’s expecting, so we’re celebrating tonight.”
“Sounds better than my evening. I have to help my sister and Winston rearrange his bedroom for Stormy’s crate.”
“They got him a crate?”
“Yeah, no one’s claimed him yet, so he needs somewhere to stay. I’ve got to unload Winston’s giant bookshelf and get it to the other side of the room. But don’t worry. I’ve already planned to bring dinner for you all. I’m preparing for six.”
“Do we need to pay you for the additional people?”
“No, no. Don’t worry about it. With the storm, you all won’t eat unless I cook for everyone, and I’ve got tons of food between my private client stock and the early orders I’ve made for the restaurant. Do you want anything special for the celebration?”
“Please don’t feel like you have to do all that. I think Sienna’s more excited to sit back and relax than she is to have a big spread of food.”
“I’ll see what I’ve got and maybe I can whip up something extra.”
Emily nodded, wondering how the night would go with both Patrick and Will there. It was unbelievable that Will had shown up and crashed her vacation. Trying not to let it put a damper on today, she scooped up a forkful of salad and took a bite.
