“I make them because you like them.” Her voice came from behind them, in the kitchen.

He dished out food as he spoke, filling her plate. “Wineglass is on your right. Tonight it’s a saucy little Washington Syrah from Walla Walla. I’m in charge of the wine selection. It’s a hobby of mine.”

Izzy glanced across the table. She could see Nick’s outline, but had no idea what he was doing. Eating? Staring? Reading the paper? He was silent, which unnerved her.

“Do you need me to tell you where the food is on your plate?” Aaron asked.

“No, thanks. I’m not that handicapped.”

“You’re not handicapped, you’re handicapable.”

His perky statement made her laugh. “Okay. If you say so.”

“I do.”

Izzy picked up her fork. Her mouth was watering before she took her first bite. She nearly swooned when she tasted Norma’s perfect pot roast. Her stomach growled again, this time in appreciation.

“You’ll meet Rita tomorrow,” Aaron said. “She’s in charge of the horses. She and her husband live a few miles away. They’ve been married forever.” He sighed. “It’s just so romantic. I want to find someone. Nick, you never introduce me to any of your friends. Why is that?”

“They’re not your type.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

There was something in his tone that made her look up. But no matter how hard she stared, she couldn’t bring him into focus. Or the room. Or her plate. Her appetite disappeared, leaving her feeling sick to her stomach.

“Izzy?” Aaron sounded concerned.

“I’m fine,” she whispered.

“Eat a biscuit. It’ll make you feel better.”

She knew he was only trying to help, but right now nothing was going to make her feel better. Nick was silent. The unfair advantage of everyone else being able to see made her want to lash out.

“You’re quiet,” she snapped. “Are you judging me or being critical?”