Page 2 of The Sweet Spot

“You are Tangi’s friend? The chef?”

“I am,” I said, trying to smile casually. I could see why Tangi might consider the guy for a split second. He was ridiculously hot, and the body hiding under his dress pants and fitted light-blue polo shirt had me forgetting that my life was about to be upended.

“I hear you are putting on the lunch today. And that you catered the pre-wedding event. Your food is amazing. I thought you should know that.”

Hmm. How could anyone think he was a jerk after paying me such a nice compliment? “Thank you very much.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you around,” he said. He gave a slight nod and walked away. I willed myself not to watch him go, but Icouldn’t help it. He looked amazing, and for just a moment, all my problems floated away.

Chapter Two

Brandon

Afew things happened after we were eliminated from the playoffs this past spring. Pretty much all of them had blown my mind when they’d happened. First, Ethan Grant took me aside and told me he was going to tell Coach Anthony that I should be the only captain on the team. In fact, he’d said that I’d been the one to carry the Kodiaks and that I had the leadership qualities the guys needed. He had rendered me speechless, not something that was easy to do. And when I was about to tell him that Vaughn should be our captain again, Jeremy showed up out of nowhere—most likely from the showers—and hit me with the second shock to tell me that he agreed with Grant and that I deserved the job. Knowing how much Grant despised me, it was big of him to do.

A person shouldn’t have to handle two major shocks at once, especially because neither guy particularly liked me, although I think Vaughn was at least coming around to giving me a shot at being friends. I couldn’t say the same for Grant. Sure, I would have swooped in and scooped up Tangi if she’d wanted that, but it was clear from the start that she wanted afuture with Grant. They’d had history … lots of it, including a kid on the way at the time. They’d been high school sweethearts before the doorknob had gone and ruined it. Who lets a girl like Tangi walk away? Well, a loser like Ethan Grant. That bozo had made so many mistakes with her that he was lucky she even considered taking him back. But throw a baby into the mix, and maybe feelings change. Call me cynical. Whatever the case, the result didn’t change.

But back to the all these shocks. Because lo and behold, what shows up in my inbox one morning? A wedding invitation from Tangi and Ethan with a personal note from Tangi insisting I attend their upcoming nuptials. I’d assumed that Grant would nix any invitation for me, but Tangi was the brains of that operation, and I could only assume she got what she wanted.

Other than those shocks, some good things had happened, and maybe they were because of Tangi. She’d made me see that I had to lighten up on the guys—to lower my expectations. I’d always been driven to succeed, thanks to overbearing parents, and it took me a long time to realize that I couldn’t—and shouldn’t—expect everyone to be as dedicated as I was. In turn, I’d started forming some new friendships on the team, like Vaughn. So when I found myself at the wedding, I started feeling like one of the guys, even though I was probably the only one without a date.

I’d dated since Tangi had so gently let me down—not that I really had ever started anything with her—but no one had sparked a fire in me, and the last thing I wanted to do was give a woman I was dating the wrong impression by inviting her to this wedding. So I came alone. And did I feel a little stab in the heart when I saw Tangi in her dress? Fuck, yeah. She was gorgeous, from her silky chestnut-colored hair with subtle highlights, to her big hazel eyes that I could stare in all day. Butdon’t get me wrong. I wasn’t pining. She had a kid with Grant, and now they were married. That ship had sailed. Shit, it had never come into port. Despite any feelings I may have had for her, I was also a realist.

I had planned to leave town the next morning, but Tangi must have figured I’d do that because she’d sent another text about a lunch the day after the wedding and that she wanted me there. I should have said no, but all the other guys were going to be there, so it didn’t seem right to bail. So here I was, sitting with a few of the guys, watching Ethan and Tangi greet their guests.

“Did you see Ryan?” Wade Pinter said.

He jarred me out of my thoughts. Pinter had been a third-line winger on the team. He’d been trying to get up to the second line, but the years were catching up to him. He did everything he could in the offseason to stay in shape, but there was no escaping Father Time. Every player had to face that prospect.

As for Ryan, I had seen him but didn’t want to gossip. It was hard to miss him since he was a groomsman and also one of Ethan’s best friends. I don’t know what he’d been up to since we’d been eliminated from the playoffs in the second round, but it couldn’t be anything good.

“He can’t show up to camp looking like that.” Wade blew out a breath to further illustrate his point.

Camp was six weeks away, and Ryan looked bloated and just plain fat. The guy had always been a hulking presence, but this was beyond muscle and brawn. Either he was drinking or eating or both. Since I’d last seen him, he’d easily put on thirty pounds, and when the guy was already pushing two fifty, that was too much extra weight.

“He really can’t,” I said.

“Coach will lose his shit.”

Ryan’s weight gain wasn’t something I was going to worry about. Even if he showed up to camp five hundred pounds, Coach Anthony would get him into fighting shape in no time because Ryan was an asset. But that had me thinking about my own well-being. I hadn’t gained weight, but I’d been feeling that ol’ Father Time catching up to me. I’d be thirty in a few months, and everything seemed to hurt a little more or take longer to heal. Even my knee seemed to act up every once in a while despite taking care of it. What I’d do to get my twenty-year-old body back.

“What he needs is a personal chef,” Mark Fox said. Mark was one of the few guys on the team I’d always been friendly with. He took fitness and the game as seriously as I did, although he managed to keep his thoughts to himself. He didn’t know this, but I’d learned a lot from him in the past few years, besides Mark and a few other guys like Jeremy. Instead of getting on people for shitty play, I was trying to encourage them to be better or tell them not to beat themselves up if they made a mistake. “That way, they control what he eats. He’s always the first guy to suggest drinks and shit food after a game. Until he breaks that cycle, he’s always going to have a problem.”

More and more guys were using personal chefs now. Most of them even arranged meals for road trips. I’d thought about it, since I wasn’t the best cook and I was getting bored of eating the same food all the time—chicken, rice, and steamed vegetables, with a few changes along the way—about the only thing I could confidently make.

“Know any?” I asked.

“I know a few. You looking?” Mark asked.

“Maybe,” I said with a nod. “Do you have one?”

“Yup. And he’s amazing. Totally booked, though. But he knows people.”

“Get me their numbers.”

Mark explained how it worked, and the cost wasn’t an issue. I’d pay more just to have some variety. And as we ate the buffet lunch and talked about the upcoming season and what the team would look like, I thought about food again.

“This food is really good,” I said, staring down at my sweet potato salad. I liked sweet potatoes but wouldn’t have any idea what to do with them.