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.
