Chapter 4
Chapter Four
“Are you sure I’m ready for this?” Piper asked, nerves rushing through her at the thought of cooking for someone she had never met.
“You are definitely ready,” Layne assured her.
“In fact, I can’t believe you’ve caught on so quickly.
Then again, you’ve always put your mind to things and succeeded.
Remember how you learned to write all your capital and little letters before Mila and me?
And how you learned all the verses in The Star-Spangled Banner before anyone else did?
Or how you could recite the times tables up to twelve without making a mistake?
Boy that made Danny Henry so mad. He thought he was the best in math.
Heck, I still can’t remember what eleven times twelve is—and I’m great at math. ”
Despite her qualms, she smiled. For the past two days, Keaton had patiently walked Piper through how to make various breakfast foods.
He was a thorough teacher, and he hadn’t made fun of her lack of knowledge in the kitchen.
Thanks to his detailed demonstrations, her confidence in the kitchen had soared.
Now that she was to try her new skills out on a stranger, though, she found her heart racing.
“Do you think Sullivan is someone who will be good as a taste tester?” she asked. “Maybe I should have asked Mom and Dad to come over first.”
Layne shook her head. “They love you too much to be critical. Not that I think Sullivan will criticize your cooking, but we need an honest opinion. He can do that. Just be yourself. Take your time. You’ve got this.
” She paused. “And if you do wind up lacking on any dish, you’ve got more than a week to keep practicing until the Bay Breeze is open for business again. ”
Piper consulted her list of breakfast items, mentally going over the ways to prepare each as Layne scrolled through her emails. Then her friend’s cell chimed with a text.
“Denise wants me to come by to sample the icing she wants to use for the wedding cake,” Layne said.
“Now?” she asked, a bit of panic seeping into her tone.
“Yes, now. Piper, you’ve got this,” Layne assured her. “It’s just scrambling some eggs and frying up a few pieces of bacon. Even I can do that now, thanks to Keaton showing me how simple it is.”
The doorbell rang. “Sullivan’s here. Let me introduce you to him, and then I need to head over to the bakery.”
They both went to the door, and Layne grabbed her purse sitting on the table before she answered the door, ushering in one of the hottest guys Piper had ever seen.
He was a couple of inches over six feet, with a lean, athletic frame.
His hazel eyes were set off by his rich, dark brown hair.
His lips were movie star sensual, and she had a wild urge to kiss him.
“Hey, Sullivan,” Layne greeted. “This is Piper Roberts, my wonderful, talented friend who’s just moved back to the Bay.”
“Hi,” she said casually.
“Hey, Piper,” he replied, his voice low and steady. He offered her his hand, and she shook it, aware of the tingles that danced up her arm with the contact.
“I’ve got to go handle something about the wedding,” Layne explained.
“You are here to sample Piper’s breakfasts.
You don’t have to eat everything. Just a few bites.
” She looked at Sullivan steadily. “She needs unbiased feedback. You’re an objective bystander.
Don’t sugarcoat anything. And save room for dinner tonight,” Layne cautioned.
“Will do,” he said. “See you later.”
Layne left, closing the door behind her, and Sullivan turned to Piper.
“So, what’s up first? And why exactly do I need to critique your breakfast-making skills?”
She swallowed. “I’m sure you’ve heard that I’ll be managing the B&B for Layne.
At least through Labor Day. She’s gone through everything with me about how to run the inn.
I’m familiar with spreadsheets. The website’s booking system.
How to clean each room, including making a bed with hospital corners.
Part of the responsibilities include preparing breakfast daily for our guests. ”
Piper smiled ruefully. “And before Keaton got a hold of me, I didn’t even know how long to boil an egg.”
“You’ve spent your time out on the road, right?” he asked. “In touring companies?”
“Yes,” she said enthusiastically, realizing he was trying to put her at ease by asking her about something she would be comfortable talking about.
“I left college after my sophomore year because I had an opportunity to join a professional tour. Other than appearing in a few plays and one musical, I felt I was just marking time in college. To have a chance to perform on a daily basis—and get paid for it?” Piper shrugged. “I couldn’t pass it up.”
“So, you never went back to school?” he asked.
Although he was merely making conversation, Sullivan had hit upon something that still bothered her. Not having a degree would limit future employment opportunities. She pushed aside her feeling inadequate.
“No. I worked my way up from the chorus to secondary roles over several years. Then I finally broke out with my first lead. I have a solid work ethic and a strong voice, and my reputation proceeded me when I auditioned for roles. For the last five years, I’ve been the headliner of the musicals I toured in across the country. ”
“You must be really talented. I’d love to hear you sing sometime.”
Piper felt herself blushing. “I think my performing days are over.”
He grinned. “Maybe you can sing me something from Wicked while you’re scrambling eggs for me.”
“No!” she cried, panic filling her. “I need to focus. Cooking is so new to me. Singing would just mess me up.”
Sullivan studied her a moment. “I don’t think so. Singing was your life. Don’t you find yourself singing when you’re in the shower or getting ready? Puttering around the house?”
She laughed. “For your information, I never sing in the shower out of habit. I always needed to rest my voice when I wasn’t rehearsing or actually performing.
And I haven’t had a house to putter around since before I left for college.
I’ve lived out of a suitcase for ten years, Sullivan.
Of course, I suppose I can always sing while I’m changing sheets and cleaning bathrooms for our guests. ”
“Once cooking becomes second nature to you, you might find yourself singing while you fry up bacon.”
“Maybe. Right now, I’m feeling pretty good about what Keaton has taught me. We’ll see.”
“Then let’s go into the kitchen and get started,” he suggested. “What am I going to be eating?”
He followed Piper into the kitchen, where he took a seat at the table.
“I wonder if I should have you sit in the dining room,” she fretted. “That’s where I’ll be serving our guests.”
“Let me stay in here so we can talk.”
“Okay,” she said, reluctant to send him away.
She liked his easygoing manner. She definitely liked his looks.
Even though she knew he wouldn’t be in the Bay much longer, he intrigued her.
As it was, she was used to short-term relationships.
Not that she was planning to have one with him, but if she did?
She knew how to let go, with no regrets.
“Layne was right when she said you don’t have to eat the entire dish. Just a couple of bites. And I need your true opinion. Don’t be nice just because I’m Layne’s friend.”
“Got it. What’s up first?”
“Eggs,” she decided. “Keaton has drilled into me the differences between over easy, over medium, and over hard. And I can cook them other ways, too.”
“Okay, let’s get started.” He rose and came to stand beside the stove, leaning against the counter. She caught the scent of his cologne, which had a bite of spice to it.
“We’ll start with sunny side up. It’s got a runny yolk and fully-cooked whites.”
She dropped butter into the pan and set the temperature for medium low, dialing it back to low after a minute.
“Tell me what you’re doing as you do it,” Sullivan said. “I’m not a cook and am in awe of what Keaton whips up. Maybe I can learn something from you and it’ll reinforce Keaton’s lessons at the same time.”
Piper laughed. “Who would’ve thought I’d be the one teaching someone how to cook an egg?”
She cracked open the egg and talked him through the process, explaining that fresher eggs kept their shape better.
“Non-stick pans make moving eggs around a little easier. Cast iron skillets are better at producing crispy whites, though. And a nylon spatula is better with a non-stick pan, while a fish spatula is best for a cast-iron skillet.”
“Wow, you do know a lot,” he praised, causing her cheeks to heat.
For the next half-hour, she made Sullivan every kind of egg which she had practiced with Keaton. Boiled. Poached. Soft and hard scrambled. She talked about the subtle differences in an over easy, medium, and hard.
“Even though I probably won’t make anything other than scrambled eggs for the breakfast buffet I’ll put out in the mornings, Keaton wanted me to be prepared in case a guest had a special request regarding eggs.”
He took a bite of the last egg dish. “You’ve really nailed eggs. I’ve actually learned a lot from what you’re saying. Who knew there were different ways to scramble eggs? Not me. But when I order them in a restaurant from now on, I know to ask for soft scrambled. I like the texture better.”
“Restaurants almost always serve hard scrambled eggs because they’re easier to do in bulk.
In case you were wondering, I’m quoting Keaton now,” Piper said, smiling.
“He says they’re good, but they can verge on being dry.
Soft scrambled eggs have to be nursed since eggs cook quickly.
You want them runny, but they still need to look wet once they’re done. ”
“What’s next?” he asked. “I don’t think you’ll be putting out hard boiled eggs on a breakfast spread.”