Chapter 5
NOEL
I stumbled bleary-eyed down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Broad shoulders and a shaggy head of dark hair brought me up short.
Fucking Hopper.
In my house. In my kitchen.
Drinking out of my mug!
“Hey!” I strode toward him, full of self-righteous fervor. “Give me that!”
I yanked the mug from his hand, sloshing hot coffee over my hand.
“Ow!” I glared at him. “That’s hot!”
“Christ,” he muttered, grabbing my wrist and pulling me over to the sink. He turned on the faucet and thrust my hand under the cool water. “You burnt your hand when you stole my coffee.”
“In my mug! I made that in fifth grade, you know.”
Hopper cast a dubious glance at the misshapen, brown lump of a mug. “Looks more like a first-grade project.”
I drew myself up with a huff. How dare he malign my artistic talents! Maybe my gifts lay more in the culinary arts than molding clay, but I’d like to see him do better. Ha! He probably drew stick figures.
“You— you’re so—”
He raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Noel? I’m so what?”
Suddenly, the memory of seeing him last night, in the hall in nothing but his underwear, rose in my mind, and I tripped over my tongue. My cheeks went blazing hot.
Ridiculous. I was not some blushing schoolboy. I hooked up with men when I found the time, and I’d never been accused of being clumsy or awkward. That was Noel, the teenager, not Noel, the man.
I gritted my teeth. “You’re intruding here.”
His smug smile dropped, and his eyes—full of amusement at my fumbling—cooled several degrees. “Got it.”
My mother walked in just then, saving us from a standoff I wasn’t sure I could win.
When Hopper’s face went hard, it turned to fucking granite.
He’d gotten more intense since his popular jock days.
Back in high school, he’d been everyone’s best friend.
He even tried to be mine, but how could we have been friends when he was him and I was me?
It would have only attracted more negative attention my way.
“Morning!” Mom said cheerfully. “You’re up early, Noel. I thought you might sleep in.”
“I’m used to rising early to go to the farmers market,” I said.
“Oh, yes! Granville’s got one going today. I should get over there and see what we can pick up for Thanksgiving.”
“I’ll go,” Hopper and I said at the same time.
I cast him a suspicious look. “I’m making the dinner. Why would you go?”
“I’m driving some trees into town to leave at Moore Hardware,” he said, directing his words to my mother rather than me. “I can save you the trouble.”
I shook my head. “No way. I shop for my own ingredients. You wouldn’t know what to get.”
“So make a list,” Hopper said in exasperation.
“I don’t even know what the market has, and even if I did, I haven’t finalized my recipes.”
“Are you serious? It’s Thanksgiving. You make a turkey and potatoes and stuffing. Every farmwife within two hundred miles knows what to get.”
I opened my mouth to say something that would probably get me into trouble.
“Oh, stop being silly, you two!” Mom cut in. “Noel can just ride with you, Hopper. I’m sure he could use a hand carrying everything, anyway. And Hopper could use some help unloading the trees, I’m sure.”
Hopper and I exchanged skeptical looks.
“I can carry groceries, if Noel trusts me with that important task,” he said dryly.
“It seems within your skill set,” I said. “And believe it or not, I can help unload a truck. I did it enough times in high school.”
“Hm. We better get going, then. I want to be back by ten when the tree farm opens for business.”
“Good. I want to get there early before all the good produce is picked over.”
“Well, look at you,” Mom said, smiling. “Agreeing already.”
I rolled my eyes and turned away. “Give me twenty minutes to get ready.”
“I’m leaving in ten!” he called behind me.
“Not without me, you aren’t!”
Twenty minutes later, exactly, I climbed into the pickup Hopper had hooked up to a trailer already loaded with trees. I was secretly glad I didn’t have to help load them up, too, though I’d never tell him that.
“Let’s go already!” I said, voice chipper.
“Finally,” he grumbled.
I’d bundled up in a thick coat and gloves, but I still shivered as we got underway. Chicago was even colder than Nebraska this time of year, but I’d never gotten used to it.
Hopper cranked the heater without a word, and hot air blew into my face, soothing my stinging cheeks, as he pulled out.
The drive to Granville was quiet. Hopper seemed content to brood, and I had plenty to keep my mind busy as I pondered recipes. Despite what Hopper said, I had no plan to cook a Thanksgiving meal to blend in with every household in Nebraska.
I’d incorporate the classics, of course. Turkey. Yams. Stuffing. But I’d put my twist on them and add a few interesting dishes to liven up the meal. Plus, I had to think about good options for Dad. I wanted him to enjoy his Thanksgiving meal, not mourn everything he couldn’t have.
Mashed turnips might be good if I could find some at the market. They would add a nice peppery flavor that would be more exciting than cauliflower.
I opened the web browser on my phone, researching heart-healthy ingredients, until we made it to town.
Hopper pulled to a stop. “Can you put the phone away for two minutes and help me unload these trees, or were you just putting on a good front for your mom?”
I lowered the phone. “Sorry. I didn’t realize we were here. I was just looking up some recipes.”
“You mean the great Noel Grisold doesn’t invent every dish from scratch?”
“I’d like to invent you from scratch,” I muttered as I opened my door and hopped out onto the packed snow.
My foot slipped, and I nearly fell on my ass, but I hung on to the door, flailing one arm until I caught my balance.
Whew. Close one.
I looked up to see Hopper smirking at me. Yeah, close one. I almost looked like a fool in front of Hopper Kelly.
With as much dignity as I could muster, I carefully walked over to the end of the trailer.
“I’ll take the base and most of the weight,” Hopper said. “You just hold the end up.”
I wanted to snark about being able to carry my weight, but after my near fall just getting out of the truck, I kept my yap shut and nodded.
Hopper grabbed hold of the rope used to bind the branches and hauled the Douglas fir out of the trailer. He made it look so damn easy. I caught the end, though I could tell he didn’t really need my help, and we walked the tree over to the sidewalk.
Together, we propped the tree against the outside wall.
Halfway through, I decided we were wasting time and climbed into the trailer to help move trees toward the end. Hopper grabbed each one and hauled it over to the store single-handedly.
With ease.
It wasn’t sexy at all.
I wasn’t fantasizing about pinning all that size and strength beneath me, of making him melt into the mattress for me. Taming that ass to take my dick over and over…
“Ready for the farmer’s market?” Hopper waved a hand in front of my face. “Noel? You in there?”
I blinked out of the fantasy. “Huh?”
“I know you’re not used to hard work. Warn me if you’re about to faint.”
I huffed, face hot despite the cold temperature outside. “Why? Are you going to catch me?”
“No.” He grinned. “I just don’t want to miss the show.”
“Asshole.”
I climbed out of the trailer, and we walked around the corner to the farmer’s market. It was smaller than the one in Chicago, but there were tables piled high with carrots, beets, cabbages, and sweet potatoes and yams.
“Where do we start?” Hopper asked. “Do you have a list?”
“Just follow me,” I said, heading for the turnips on display.
“You just want me to trail you like a puppy?” Hopper sounded put out. “If you gave me a list, we could divide it up and save time.”
“I don’t have a list. I’m going to create recipes around the best ingredients I find.” I smiled sweetly. “But don’t worry, you still have a very important job.”
“What’s what?” he asked, wary.
I patted his arm, trying and failing not to be impressed by the muscle under my fingertips.
“You get to carry everything!”