Page 8 of The Sweet Spot (Kodiaks Hockey #3)

Chapter Eight

Brandon

I had no idea why I scheduled my taste testing with Wolseley the week of physicals, but I had, and that was a huge mistake. I was tired, sore, and grouchy by the time I got home, but also ravenous, so maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.

The team gossip continued to surround Ryan and his girth. Maybe he’d lost ten or fifteen pounds since Tangi and Ethan’s wedding, but you could hardly tell, and when Coach Anthony saw him, I thought the top of his head would pop off. Taking my role as captain seriously, I grabbed Ryan when we both had a few minutes and decided to talk to him. Two years ago, I would have told him to man up, get his shit together, stop eating crappy food because there were hundreds of guys who could take his place, but that would be Dad talking. I had finally found my own voice.

“How are things going?” I’d asked.

“Fine,” he’d said curtly. Ryan wasn’t the type to have attitude, but I could only assume after a full day of ribbing from his teammates and doing shitty on endurance tests, he’d had enough. I’d be pissed off too.

“I know it’s been tough and?—”

“Not a lecture, please,” he said, holding up a hand to me. Especially from you. You’re going to give me shit and tell me how I should be disciplined and that I need willpower and a desire to be better. I’ve heard your speeches before.”

I’d never seen him so pissed. The guy was normally a big puppy dog.

“Actually, I was going to ask you if you needed anything from me. I know the guys have been assholes, but I’m not going to pile on. If I can help, let me know how. The last thing you need is one more person on your ass.”

Ryan was a huge guy who towered over me. He could pound me into next week, and when he was on the ice, I’d fear him if he’d ever come after me, but off the ice, he was one of the nicest guys, and I hated to see what he was going through. The old me would have given him a lot of unsolicited advice, suggested diets and workouts, but the new me was going to lend support and help him with whatever he needed to get past this. Even though I wanted to tell him to get his shit together.

Ryan had rubbed at his brow and looked at me with his dark brown eyes. “Should I hire the chef?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Is food the issue?”

He’d motioned for me to join him in the empty personal trainers’ room. We’d gone inside, and he shut the door.

“You’re like a lawyer, right? Anything you tell me stays between us?”

I’d wrapped my head around that one but ultimately agreed to keep my mouth shut.

“It’s not just food,” he’d said. “My friends back home, they like to party, and I got mixed up in that shit. We were drinking a lot, smoking a shit-ton of weed, and eating. Or, I was the one doing all the eating. I didn’t hit the gym once, not until after Ethan’s wedding. You know, when everyone gave me all the looks. Thing is, I’m worried I’m still drinking too much.”

This was my first big-boy captain job. I’d taken in a deep breath and channeled the new me not to tell him to just stop drinking, because that’s what my father would say, and honestly, that was a stupid suggestion. Also completely unhelpful because when things got bad, people couldn’t just stop something or simply fix it. It took time. But I also had no experience with alcoholism. I didn’t drink much, and neither did anyone in my family. But I went with what I’d known and hoped I’d been helpful.

“Do you think you can stop drinking, or is that something you think you’re past being able to do?”

“I don’t know. I was drunk most of the summer. And now I think a few beers help me relax, and that’s not good.”

The giant in front of me had looked defeated. I’d reached out a hand and patted his shoulder. “I know this is tough. You could talk to our player rep. Quinn is a professional and will keep this strictly confidential. He will put you in touch with someone you can talk to, and if you need it, you can enter the players’ assistance program. I know we all think we have to be warriors, but it’s okay to ask for help.”

He'd shaken his head. “I don’t want to do that yet. I just need a little help. I’ve thought about talking to Quinn, but what if he tells the other guys.”

“He’s more of a lawyer on the team than I am,” I’d said, using Ryan’s speak. “He won’t tell anyone. And neither will I. Maybe he can find you some help that will keep you on the ice.”

“You think so?”

“I do. And maybe a nutritionist to get you back on your feet with food. Maybe that person could work alongside Wolseley if that’s the route you want to take.”

“Yeah, maybe. Thanks for this, Warde. I was worried you were going to be an asshole, but this has helped.”

He’d stomped out of the room—because he stomped everywhere—and had left me digesting that. I’d been digesting it all the way to my apartment. Wolseley had offered to do the tasting at my place, but since she was still getting her bearings around the city, we decided on her place—or Ethan and Tangi’s, not that it made a difference to me.

After another hot shower to massage my aching muscles from a long day of physicals, I changed into jeans and a T-shirt. I grabbed a jacket because clouds had already rolled in, and rain was expected all evening and into tomorrow. The one thing I hated most about Vancouver was the rain, sometimes for days on end. I understood why guys liked playing in the Southern States, but that didn’t appeal to me either. I wanted four damn seasons. Full stop. Was that too much to ask? And more sunshine.

Wolseley let me into the building and said she’d leave the front door open since she was busy in the kitchen. The closer I got to her door, the more my stomach grumbled at the smells coming from her place. I’d know garlic anywhere, and I loved it. Mixed in with that were various spices and definitely some oregano. The team had provided us with lunch today, but I could guarantee that nothing would match what I was about to eat.

I knocked on the door and stepped inside the condo.

“In the kitchen,” Wolseley called.

I took off my shoes and hung my jacket in the closet. If nothing else, I liked to keep everything orderly and polished, and by the looks of the kitchen, I gasped just a little. It looked like a hurricane had swept through it, but I had to remind myself this wasn’t my kitchen. But then it hit me. It would be my kitchen if I hired her. Nope. I wasn’t here to judge her cleaning skills, and honestly, she was in the process of cooking. If she left a huge mess when she was done, well, that was another issue entirely.

“I know, it’s a disaster in here. I don’t usually have this many things on the go. I promise you I’m not this messy,” she said as if reading my mind. “Please sit at the island. I should have something ready for you right away. I made enough to sample and for you to have to take home. I want you to be able to try it more than once and reheated since you will have to reheat some of your late-night meals.”

I was impressed already. I sat on one of the bistro chairs and watched as she juggled pots, pans, the oven, and some items from the fridge.

“I hope you can give me a few hours. I should have told you that. I want you to be able to savor and judge everything. What can I get you to drink?”

“Just some water.”

She hopped over to the fridge and returned with a few bottles of water.

“You changed your hair,” I said. She’d trimmed it below her ears and had colored it fuchsia with platinum blonde bangs. On anyone else, I would have questioned the look, but it suited her perfectly. She had that Boho look about her. Today, she was sporting an oversized white shirt with a frilly edge and blue jeans that had holes at the knees.

“It was time. I like to change my look. My real hair color was just for the wedding. I didn’t want to upstage the bride in her wedding pictures,” she said, tucking some hair behind her ear. Was she a bit nervous? I couldn’t quite tell. “Can you imagine Tangi and Ethan looking at wedding pictures with their kids and seeing my blue, orange, or purple hair? I’d stick out in their wedding pictures, and that’s not right.”

She headed for the stove to check on something, then skipped over to the fridge, where she pulled out some cut strawberries, a small bowl of blueberries, and another bowl of raspberries. Next, she pulled out butter and what looked like maple syrup. She then tended to her skillet again and came back with a small stack of pancakes.

I didn’t question it because I needed to eat carbs right now, but the last thing I wanted to eat first thing in the morning was a stack of simple carbs, but I went with it. Old me would have made a comment or lectured her, but new me was giving her the benefit of the doubt. I’d find a way to gently explain to her later that pancakes weren’t suitable for my breakfasts.

“I thought we’d start with pancakes,” she said. “I want you to try these. I could have paired this with turkey bacon or eggs, but you know what those taste like.”

I also knew what pancakes tasted like, but I kept my mouth shut.

“You can put whatever you’d like on them. The butter is vegan.”

The butter did look a bit off, almost a white color. I spread it on one pancake and asked her what it was.

“I make it myself. Lima beans, coconut oil, and a few other ingredients to enhance the flavor. It’s my go-to.”

Good to know. I put some berries and a bit of maple syrup and tried the pancakes. They tasted like pancakes. I wasn’t blown away, because, well, they were pancakes, but they tasted great.

“So those are protein pancakes. Most of the carbs came from the maple syrup and the berries.”

I blinked a few times in shock. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” she said proudly. “Each serving is around three hundred calories and about thirty-five to forty grams of protein. Obviously, you’d want more for a breakfast, but I didn’t want to waste space in your stomach with eggs, whole grain toast, etcetera. My goal is to make your breakfasts come in around seven hundred to eight hundred calories.”

She’d rendered me speechless with the damn pancakes. I was ready to make an offer to her right that second, but I wanted to try more. Mostly because I was still hungry.

“I came up with some lunch options for you to try. Again, you’ll have some other samples to take home, but I wanted you to have a feel for what I can do.” She pulled out a glass container from the fridge and set it down on the island. She then assembled what looked to be some kind of wrap with an assortment of grilled vegetables that she topped with a sauce. She completed the concoction with what looked like a hamburger patty, but I figured it wasn’t. She plated it and opened the glass container to reveal what was either couscous or quinoa.

“Here, we have a cottage cheese wrap topped with grilled vegetables and my own version of a veggie patty. Like the pancakes, it’s not vegan, but it still packs a protein wallop. The salad is quinoa with fresh veggies and my flax seed and apple cider vinegar dressing with herbs to give it a nice kick. The cottage cheese wrap could also be used in place of dough to make a pizza. I’ll let you try that while I finish up with the dinner option.”

I was starving even after eating all the pancakes, and I’d never had quinoa that wasn’t boring as hell, but one bite in, I couldn’t stop eating it. And the cottage cheese wrap had me questioning why I wasn’t eating more of it. I devoured the whole thing as she was stirring away at a pot of something and checking on whatever she had in the oven. While I waited, she pulled out some small protein muffins she’d made as well as peanut butter protein balls and some protein bars she’d baked. I tried them all, and while I was getting full, my stomach wanted more.

“Dinner tonight is peasant stew, made from a veggie broth I made myself. This dish is vegan. I made some garlic bread with my vegan butter to give you some carbs. The bread is whole grain. I’ve also made you some portobello steaks topped with my marinara sauce and some melted fresh mozzarella. Again, these aren’t full meals because I could have made you some pasta or rice on the side, but you know what those taste like. I have, however, packed some sauces and seasonings for you to try on your own.”

The stew didn’t look like much. Some crushed white kidney beans, cabbage, and broth, but when I tasted it, I couldn’t wait for the next bite. If she kept making food like this, I was going to fall in love with her.

“I thought about other soups and stews, but this is a favorite of mine.”

“It’s great.”

Next, I tried the portobello steaks. I wouldn’t have known they were mushrooms if she hadn’t told me. I wolfed it all down, finally feeling full but not uncomfortable, but she wasn’t done. She’d made me vegan pudding for dessert. I’d mentioned that I liked chocolate, and that’s what she’d made.

“How was it?” she asked as I licked my spoon. I’d left nothing behind.

“It’s great.”

She smiled, showing off her cute dimples. “You probably want a few days to think about it. In the meantime, I’ll make up your doggie bag so you have an idea of what more I can do. Do you have a dog? Jill and Jeremy have a dog. Her name is Chloe. ”

“I don’t have a dog,” sensing that a Wolseley ramble was about to start.

“Doggie bags made me think of dogs. It wouldn’t be a problem if you had a dog, because obviously, I love animals. But the origin of doggie bags dates back to the 1940s! People would take home food for their dogs. We’re talking during the war and postwar when food was more scarce.”

I suddenly thought of rotary phones. Wolseley was full of random information.

“Interesting. Makes sense.”

She blushed a bit, probably realizing she’d gone on a tangent.

“Anyway, you take those few days to figure out what you want to do.”

“I don’t need a few days,” I said, pushing my empty pudding bowl away. “Let’s talk specifics. I need you to prep all the meals and arrange for meals when I’m on the road. It’s a big job. What would you say to fifteen grand a month plus all expenses for food and whatever else you need.”

Her face froze, and I suddenly wondered if I’d insulted her. I’d done some research and asked around. That offer was more than fair. I didn’t know what to say next, so I waited until her face slowly shifted, and she smiled again.

Then she said, “When do I start?”