Piper’s head whips toward me, eyes wide.
“I don’t mind the same food on repeat.” I raise my hands, palms facing out like I’m ready to ward off an attack. “It’s not a big deal. I’ve been doing it for years.”
But the thought of Piper living on toast and orange juice when she’s clearly not feeling well is another thing keeping me up at night, so I may have sent Mindy an extra email. Or ten.
“You didn’t need to order anything for me,” Piper says. Her voice has gone soft, like she’s handling something delicate. That something might be me. Or not. “I can take care of myself.”
“Toast isn’t a food group,” I tell her, hating how much I sound like I want to take care of her. Even though I do, way too much.
“I eat stuff besides toast.”
“Not since I’ve been here.”
“I like toast.” She lifts her chin in that way that makes me want to either kiss her or argue with her, maybe at the same time.
“You need a balanced diet. Protein and shit. I’m sure Mindy has it all set up.” I throw the meal-prep lady a glance.Bail a bro out, sister.
“I do, in fact.” Praise the Lord, Even though I don’t appreciate her watching Piper and me like we’re the entertainment portion of her afternoon, I do appreciate Mindy picking up what I’m layingdown. “I was just about to go over how it’s organized in the refrigerator when you came in.”
Tyler appears a lot less pissed than he did moments earlier when he thought I was trying to veer from the nutrition plan he has me on. Smug is not a good look for him.
“I’m sure we can figure it out,” I say quickly. I donotwant to go over this with an audience. I definitelydowant to wipe the smirk off of my personal trainer andformerfriend’s face.
“I think you’ll find the meals to your liking,” she tells Piper gently, “and they’ll be easy on your stomach.”
Christ. Could she be any less subtle?
“Felix went over your preferences in detail, so?—”
“How do you know my preferences?” Piper demands as she turns to me again. It sounds an awful lot like an accusation. As if I’ve committed some kind of crime by paying attention to what she eats.
“We’ve had plenty of meals together.”
She raises a brow. “Plenty?”
“Plenty might be an exaggeration,” I admit, running my hand through my hair. “But enough that I know you like chicken breasts but not thighs. You don’t eat red meat, you’re iffy on mushrooms, and you have a mild shellfish allergy. Most importantly, if a person could survive on bread and pasta alone, that would be your choice.”
Her mouth opens and shuts a few times, and once again, her lips are driving me to distraction. “That’s disturbingly accurate,” she says quietly.
Mindy, bless her, senses the vibe and heads toward the door. “Like Felix said, I’m sure you can figure it out. Call or text with any questions or to reorder.”
“I’ll walk you out.” Tyler is already falling into step beside her. “I’d love to get some more information on your business and how things are structured. We’ll be up here a few more weeks, and the truth is I’m not much of a cook myself.”
They disappear toward the front door, and Piper stares after them for a long beat. “Did you inadvertently play matchmaker by being rude and insufferable?”
“I’m neither of those things, and I played get-the-hell-out-of-our-kitchen.”
“I didn’t need you to order food for me,” she repeats, but there’s less heat in it now. She’s looking at me like whatever’s pulsing between us is a puzzle she can’t quite solve.
Join the club, Hart.
“You could just say thank you,” I prompt, although watching her struggle with gratitude is strangely endearing.
“Thank you.” Those two whispered words sound like they were painful. I get that. Vulnerability isn’t easy for either of us.
She’s quiet for a moment, then moves to the fridge. “Mindy found something in the fridge and wasn’t sure how it got there.”
“That sounds…ominous.”
