Page 19 of The Sweet Spot (Kodiaks Hockey #3)

Chapter Nineteen

Brandon

W olseley seemed in a better mood, smiling more, back to her old self. Which was a good thing since Ryan was coming over for his tasting. I’d gotten home from a workout at the rink to find her puttering around the kitchen, earbuds in, bopping along to the music as she prepared our meals. I’d finally broken her of making it all look fancy. She liked to make everything look like it had come from a restaurant, but I didn’t care about shit like that. It took me a few tries, but the garnishes finally disappeared. Maybe catching me picking them off my plate was hint enough.

I got her attention long enough to wave that I was home. I took a shower, changed, then checked my phone. Mom had texted to let me know she and Dad wanted to come for the holidays since Dad had checked the schedule and saw that I would be home for a long stretch over Christmas. Lucky me. I didn’t look forward to having them around. I could tolerate my mom, but any extended time spent with my father would be torture. I was formulating a response when I went into the kitchen to grab an energy drink, one Wolseley had approved. She’d made me dump all the artificial colors and chemical ones for healthier choices. I appreciated her concern, but these drinks didn’t have the same kick, but since I didn’t want to disappoint her, I’d suffer through it.

“You look perturbed,” she said, taking out her earbuds and popping them in her jeans pocket.

“A text from my mom. My parents want to come for Christmas, and I’m not exactly happy about it.”

“Right, your dad,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “That sucks.”

I’d told her bits and pieces about my dad. Anyone could figure out he wasn’t father of the year, and Wolseley had immediately deduced it without being nosy. I think I’d muttered something one day about not being able to stand him when he’d sent a barrage of texts about his thoughts on my gameplay. Out of curiosity, she’d asked who the texts were from, and my response had been, “My asshole father.”

“Every few years, we have a long home stand for the holidays, and this happens to be that year.”

“Could you tell them you are going on an African safari and can’t be reached, so they should just stay home?”

I laughed. “I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t believe that,” I said, taking a seat at the island and sampling her new dark chocolate almond energy bites. And then it occurred to me that I hadn’t asked her what her plans were for the holidays. Technically, she was supposed to be working, but since I had a four-day official break—not including the rest of the home stand—she did deserve time back home. “What are you doing for Christmas?”

“I’ll probably hang out with Jill and Tangi in between making you and Ryan your meals. If you’d like, I could make meals for your family, although your dad strikes me as a carnivore. I don’t mind preparing meat dishes, but you know it’s not my strength.”

She was chopping carrots as she spoke, and I watched her do it with grace and precision. The way she worked through those carrots, I would have chopped off several fingers.

“You don’t have to be here over the holidays,” I said. “You should go back home for a few days. And I don’t expect you to make meals for my parents.”

She shrugged. “I really don’t mind. You have that long road trip in January, and I thought I’d go home then. That way, I get to spend more time with my family.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.” She grabbed a pot and threw in the chopped carrots, along with some onion she’d diced before I’d shown up. “What do you think of the chocolate almond bites?”

“Delicious.”

She moved on to peppers, cutting with the same authority. I was going to have to get her to teach me that one day. I had no idea what she was making, but I was looking forward to it.

“You seem happier. Everything worked out with Tangi?” She’d told me in passing that she was going to hang out with Jill and Tangi. I assumed that whatever happened had blown over.

“I did. We had a fun time. Turns out my friends are going to make sure I stop picking all the wrong guys and start picking the right ones. There’s nothing like one of your best friends giving you a laundry list of all the shitty guys you’ve dated or chased after to make you realize you need to change up your game. I think Jill has made it her mission to find me my perfect match.”

“Oh. Good. Jill thinks she is a matchmaker?”

That niggled at me for some reason. Why was Jill even doing that? It reminded me of all the times Mom tried to set me up with the daughters of her friends. Like Wolseley, I’d made some shitty choices along the way, but when I liked a woman, I went after her. I didn’t need my mom’s help.

“I have no idea.”

“Does she have someone in mind?”

Wolseley was slicing through mushrooms now, making some kind of hearty stew, I think. Whatever it was, it smelled like a garlic paradise.

“I don’t think so. Not anyone she mentioned.”

“I didn’t realize you were looking to date.”

“I didn’t either,” she said, checking on the Dutch oven she had on the stove. “But maybe it’s time. I want Daniel to be a distant memory, and it’s been a long time since I’ve been in a healthy relationship.” She paused. “Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever been in a healthy relationship.” She paused again and shook her head as if to move on from it. “Enough about me. You should date too. I’m sure Jill can find you someone special.” She laughed, and I couldn’t help but smile even though I felt suddenly disjointed, and I had no idea why.

My phone buzzed, and I checked it to see that Ryan was here and needed to be buzzed up. I met him at my front door, and he followed me into the kitchen to meet Wolseley again.

“Welcome to Chez Brandon,” she said. “Around here we seat ourselves. Your first course will be served shortly. So you know, there really is no rhyme or reason to this meal. I simply followed along and made some of your favorite things in healthier ways. I want you to still enjoy food and not feel like you’re being punished. Before we get started, can I get you anything to drink?”

“Maybe just water,” he said, looking a little excited to try all the smells coming from the kitchen.

She started with three dips. One was a bean and vegetable dip that Ryan made a face at but still tried it on one of Wolseley’s protein-packed tortilla chips. The second was a spicy hummus—the famous hotmus, I presumed—and the third was a buffalo cauliflower chicken dip. The theme was spicy, since Ryan liked when food burned his insides. I liked heat, but not like Ryan did.

Ryan tried each one first, then went back for seconds and thirds. I smiled proudly and winked at Wolseley. She blushed in response. She really was a cutie.

We moved on to a few main courses. She had stuffed peppers, a healthy deconstructed potpie—Ryan liked simplicity—portobello steaks, quinoa in what looked like fried rice and tasted like fried rice, and grilled snapper. I don’t think we took a break to talk, the two of us were devouring the food, and despite the fact that Wolseley didn’t even try the chicken potpie or snapper, they were fucking fantastic.

“You’re hired,” Ryan said, after swallowing down the last bite of snapper.

“Do you want to think about it?” she asked, stifling a giggle.

“No. I know it’s a pain in the ass to make and get the food to me, so I’ve thought it through. You make the food, and I’m going to hire someone to pick it up. That way, you can keep working out of here. I have someone in mind for the deliveries. She delivers to me all the time, so if I can get her to swing by here three times a day, would you consider making me all my meals?”

“I think I can make that work,” she said, her face lighting up. I thought she might scream with joy.

They chatted for a bit, with Wolseley taking notes on foods Ryan absolutely hated, and allergies he may have—basically all the questions she’d asked me. When they were done, she put together a doggie bag for Ryan, and I walked him to the door.

“Cool, I get to take food home. Is it bad if I eat it later?”

“Why would it be bad?”

“I don’t know. It feels like cheating. ”

“She gave you the doggie bag because she likes you. Hey, did you know that doggie bags got their name because people brought home food for their dogs?”

I think his eyes glazed over with my interesting little fact.

“Oh, really? Anyway, she makes good food that I thought I’d hate.”

“You’re not going to regret hiring her,” I said.

“No fucking chance of that,” he said. “Her food is the best food I’ve ever had. And we both know I like to eat.”

“But you’re looking good. Things are good?”

“Yeah, thanks for asking. I’ve cleaned up my act, dumped the shittiest of my friends, and I’m keeping life simple. No chicks, either. Just getting my life straight on my own.”

“That’s the way to go.”

I could see Ryan had something else to say. He squinted an eye and pointed a finger at me. “Anything going on with her?” he said, pointing to the kitchen.

I followed his finger to Wolseley cleaning dishes and then quickly looked back at him. “With Wolseley?” I asked, dropping my voice.

“She’s the only one here!”

Now, I was confused. “No. Why would you even ask?”

“That chick is hot for you. She was devouring you with her eyes,” he said, laughing at his unfunny joke.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “She was excited and nervous about today.”

“The way she reacted to you was very different to the way she reacted to me. And if I didn’t know better, I saw you giving her some looks too.”

My breath caught just a little. “What? You are hallucinating. I wanted today to work out for her. That’s it.”

“She’s cute. I’d bang her. Just saying. Anyways, later.”

He left like he hadn’t thrown a grenade on his way out.