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Now that my stomach isn’t churning, a salad sounds good. The last thing I want is another steak.

“Did she give you any idea why you’ve been feeling off?” he asks.

“No.” I sigh. “She said we’ll talk about it next week when the bloodwork results come in.”

“Are you still dizzy?”

“Who’s the one asking all the questions now?” I steal a glance at him and try not to laugh when he suppresses an eye roll.

I probably shouldn’t tease him, but I can’t seem to help myself. He’s so adorably solemn.

“I’m feeling okay,” I say. “Better than I have in a while.”

“You’ll be all right at home?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to stop by the store first? I’m not sure tofu and green olives are the kind of sustenance your doctor had in mind.”

I peer at him. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Nice?” He looks over, raising his eyebrows. “I just insulted the contents of your fridge.”

“Don’t try to twist it around.”

“I don’t know anyone around here anymore, and for some reason, I keep running into you. It’s more like a lack of options.”

“Ohhh.” I draw out the word. “You have no social life, and you’re bored.”

He flashes me a dark look.

“Probably because you’re a bit prickly.”

“Do you want to go to the store or not?”

I settle into my seat, smiling. “I do.”

We pull into Noah’s parents’ shop about fifteen minutes later. When we walk in the front, we find Britta loading cartons of apples into a display by the door.

“Piper!” She beams when she spots us. “Are you feeling better?”

I nod. “A little bit.”

She turns to her brother. “What are you doing here? I thought you took the afternoon off.”

Feeling a touch wicked—having a good idea that Britta’s been playing matchmaker behind the scenes—I tell her, “Noah ended up cooking the steak and then taking me to my doctor’s appointment. Your grocery store has killer customer service.”

7

I smile at Noah,trying to look innocent.

“Come on,” he says to me, ignoring Britta’s wide-eyed glee. Taking a shopping cart, he heads for the meat department.

“Bye, Britta,” I say, laughing as I hurry after him.

Noah tosses package after package of dead cow into the cart.

“Do I need all that?” I ask.