Page 54 of Falling for the Billionaire Best Man

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KAISEN

Iwasn’t sure where to eat in Cape May, so I let Dorie choose. She picked a slightly run-down seafood joint a few buildings down from her bakery. It wasn’t the kind of place I’d normally go to—the decor was dated, the tables were sticky, and the smell of fried fish hung heavy in the air. Dorie seemed right at home.

“Relax,” she said. “You’re not going to catch cooties.”

“It’s just, uh, not what I expected,” I said.

“I know it doesn’t look like much, but the food is good,” she promised.

“I hope so. If I get food poisoning, I’m blaming you.”

“Trust me, I know the owners,” she said. “It’s good.”

I suspected she chose the restaurant because of who the owners were and the location. She was supporting her fellow business owners. I had a feeling this would be one of the places being pursued by the investor. If it was me, I’d want the whole stretch of buildings.

A waitress came by to deliver us glasses of water and menus.

“Hi, Dorie.” She smiled.

“Hello, Cindy. Looks slow.”

Cindy nodded. “It is. I’m sure this weekend things will pick up.”

“Can I get a Coke?” Dorie asked and then looked at me.

“Coke works,” I said.

I stared at the laminated menu, the edges slightly curled. The list of options was overwhelming, each dish more questionable than the last. I knew we were on the water, but seafood wasn’t one of those things you took risks with. I glanced up at Dorie, who was already scanning the menu with the ease of someone who’d been here a hundred times.

“So, what’s good here? And before you say ‘everything,’ I need specifics. I’m not trying to end up with something that looks like it crawled out of the ocean and onto my plate. Nor do I want to end up praying to the porcelain god or in need of an IV to rehydrate myself.”

Dorie smirked, not looking up. “You’re such a snob. Relax. You’re in Cape May now. Seafood is kind of our thing.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, flipping the menu over as if an easier option might magically appear. “Just pick something for me. Something safe.”

“Safe? Boring. How about the crab cakes? They’re legendary here.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Crab cakes? Like actual crab or the stuff that comes out of a can?”

“Yes, actual crab,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Fine,” I said, putting the menu down with a resigned sigh. “Crab cakes it is. But if I end up in the hospital, I’m sending you the bill.”

Dorie laughed, leaning back in her chair. “You’re so dramatic. You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

Cindy returned with our Cokes, and Dorie ordered for both of us—crab cakes for me and a lobster roll for herself. As the waitress walked away, I glanced around the restaurant, taking in the faded nautical decor and the handful of other patrons scattered throughout the place. It was quiet, almost too quiet for a lunch hour.

“Are you recovering?” Dorie asked.

“Recovering?”

“The assault from three-foot humans,” she said.

I smiled. “I’m not sure yet.”

“You should’ve seen yourself out there,” she said, grinning. “I thought you were going to get trampled.”