I follow his gaze to where a compact SUV is parked in the cabin’s circular driveway. My heart stutters like I’m some teenage kid about to get in trouble. No one knows I’m here. And according to Piper, only her sister and the book club gang know she’s run away to the cabin.
If Sadie’s here, there’s a good chance Ian’s with her. The lastthing I want is my know-it-all older brother finding out about Ellie before I have things worked out for her future.
If it’s not someone we know, then who the hell is it? What if something’s wrong? What if Piper needed help and I wasn’t here?
I take the stairs to the back porch two at a time, busting through the door to the house with all the tact of a bull in a china shop.
“Who’s here?” I demand, coming around the corner toward the kitchen, my heart still doing that weird hammering thing.
Piper frowns and holds one finger up to her lips. “Ellie just went down for her nap, and she’s not going to stay that way with you bellowing.”
The relief that floods through me is embarrassing. She’s fine. They’re both fine. Of course they are. I’m being ridiculous.
I don’t recognize the other woman in the kitchen, but Piper doesn’t seem bothered, and that’s what’s important. In fact, there’s a smile playing around the edge of her mouth like my mini-freak out amuses her. And as long as she’s okay, I’ll sing and dance and do back flips to keep the smile on her face.
Shit. When did Piper’s comfort become the barometer by which I measure my own?
I run a hand along the back of my neck. “Hey.” I nod at the woman, silently hoping she’ll get around to shutting her mouth, which is gaping wide at this point.
“Maybe you want to put a shirt on,” Piper suggests conversationally as she glances between me and our houseguest. But there’s something heated in her gaze that makes my skin feel too tight.
Get it together, Barlowe.
I left the house wearing a shirt, but it was hot with the sun beating down, so at some point I shucked it and tucked it into the back of my shorts. I pull it on, hyperaware of Piper’s gaze tracking my movements, just as Tyler enters the kitchen.
“Hey, Piper, who’s your friend?” he asks, which sounds way more normal than my Neanderthal entrance.
What is it about Piper Hart that short-circuits my brain?
“This is Mindy McMurry.” Piper raises a brow in my direction, clearly agreeing that I need to get it together. “She owns True Kitchen, a meal delivery service in Vail. Felix apparently ordered meals from her.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. That’s right. I’d contracted with the home chef I found online because there are things I like to do in the kitchen—notthosekinds of things, get your mind out of the gutter—but making healthy meals is not one of them. And Piper needs to eat. She barely touched her dinner last night, pushing the chicken around her plate like a kid avoiding vegetables.
“Nice,” Tyler says, moving forward and reaching out a hand. And there’s more of that social grace that I apparently left on the trail. “I’m Tyler Bron, Felix’s personal trainer. Did he talk to you about his nutrition plan for the next few weeks, macros, and the protein he?—”
“I talked to her about everything,” I bark, probably sounding like an ass. Again. “Thanks, Mindy. I forgot you were coming today. If everything’s unloaded, I think we’re done here. You can go.”
She blinks and then nods slowly. “Oh, okay.”
“Why are you acting so weird?” Piper interrupts, glaring at me, hands on her hips.
Because everything about this situation is weird, including some of the instructions I gave to the home chef, and I want her out of here before she shares any of those embarrassing details.
Tyler jabs a finger in my direction. “Are you trying to get rid of her so she doesn’t reveal that you requested a bunch of chicken wing fat bomb meals?”
“I bake my chicken wings,” Mindy says, sounding affronted.
Tyler’s ears go pink. “Sorry, no wing shade intended. It’s justthat Felix?—”
“My meal plan is on point,” I cut in. “I’m sure Mindy has other things to do.”
“Every one of the meals adheres to the nutrition guidelines Felix gave me.” She’s not paying attention to me, suddenly locked in a stare-down with Tyler that reminds me of two defensive linemen sizing each other up. “Which, as he explained in his email, adheres to the guidelinesyougave him.”
“That’s great,” Tyler sputters. “But it doesn’t explain why?—”
“I also prepared food for Piper and Ellie.” Her gaze flicks from Tyler to Piper, her features softening slightly. “Felix was way more concerned about your meals than his own choices.”
Oh, no. She didn’t just say that out loud.
