He rubbed his chin like he was Sherlock Holmes. “You probably have a regular dish too, don’t you?”
Like an actor in a sitcom, Kendra, one of Miss Mary’s granddaughters, turned up at the table and deposited two glasses of iced tea. “Your usual, Ellie?”
Miles grinned.
“Yes, please.”
Kendra turned to Miles. “Do you need a menu?”
He shook his head. “No. I want whatever Ellie is having.”
It jolted me to hear him say Ellie instead of Elle.
“How do you feel about seafood and spice?” I asked him.
He scoffed. “Bring it on.”
Kendra’s forehead furrowed a bit. “I don’t think—"
“You heard the man,” I interrupted. She shot me an “are you sure” look. I gave Kendra a bland smile.
She tucked her notebook into her pocket and headed for the kitchen.
I took a drink of my tea, but Miles ignored his, and I felt the weight of his stare even though I didn’t return it. I set the glass down and risked a glance. He looked like he was studying me, trying to read something on my face.
“You don’t want me here,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
“It’s fine. I just eat here a lot. Thought it might be better to get a look at the other properties.” Cue my stomach growling. I rolled my eyes. I hated it when my life became a sitcom.
“Sure,” he said. “You like it so much that everyone knows you by name, exactly where you like to sit, and what you order, and you definitely didn’t want me here. Interesting.” He tried to sound dramatic and detective-y, but there was a tightness around his eyes.
“Boring,” I countered. “There’s no mystery here.”
“Oh, but there is, Ellie. There is.”
I was about to make a change of subject about as smooth as a burp in church when the kitchen doors swung open and Miss Mary came out.
“Hey, honey,” she said, changing course from her usual table to come and see me. “I knew you were here when the order came in. Oh,” she stopped in surprise. “You have...company.”
That slight pause was the exact moment she recognized Miles. I braced myself for her to say something.
All she said was, “Welcome. I’m Mary.”
“Miles.” He held his hand out for a shake.
“You’re a brave man, getting Ellie’s order.”
“I’m getting scared.”
She laughed her rich, warm laugh. “She’s about to make a man out of you.”
“Miss Mary!” I pressed my hands to my cheeks.
“I meant in the put-hair-on-your-chest way,” Miss Mary said, grinning. “What did you think I meant?”
“That’s not an improvement,” I muttered. Especially not if Miles was imagining me now with hair on my chest. Or even thinking about my chest at all. Oh, man. I pressed my cheeks harder. Make it stop.
“I’ll leave y’all to enjoy your brunch. Holler if you need anything. I’ll be over there doing my books.” She drifted to her spot at the back table.
“You okay there?” Miles’s crooked half-smile peeked at me.
“Fine.” I took a sip of my iced tea so I could hide behind the glass for a moment. “Trying to decide if I want to die or just kill everyone.”
“Why do I feel like I’m about to become the butt of a joke?”
“Just remember you did this to yourself.”
“Can’t wait. I think?” He glanced around the café. “This is a great place. How’d you find it? Yelp?”
“No. Can’t trust Yelp. That’s all out-of-towners. I live near here.”
“Yeah? That’s cool. Close by?”
Right over your head. “Yeah. Pretty close.”
We chatted for a few more minutes about the Bywater until Kendra came back with two plates and set them down. “Here y’all go.”
Miles looked down at his plate. “Omelet? I was expecting something scarier.”
“Son, you better worry,” Kendra said. “Her tastebuds aren’t human.”
I gave Miles an innocent smile. “Better bring some hot sauce for him, in case.”
Kendra almost choked on her laugh as she walked away.
“Can I ask what I’m about to bite into?”
I scoffed exactly like he had before he claimed to love seafood and spice. “Nope.” Miss Mary’s kitchen had been making me this omelet since I was a teenager. It had grilled shrimp, pork tasso, grilled onions, and some cheddar, all beneath a Creole tomato sauce that first Miss Mary and now Jerome doctored especially for me. Extra hot sauce with Thai chilis.
I took a bite and savored the heat from the first chili hitting my tongue. It was a delicious kind of pain, and I loved it the way adrenaline junkies loved skydiving.
Miles took his first bite too, his expression curious, then almost deflated as he chewed.