Page 20 of The Sweet Spot
“No?” I was confused.
“No cleaning. Sit down and have some pasta with me. You can clean after. I’ll help you with it.”
Now, I was baffled. “I don’t want to leave a mess, and it’s my job to clean.”
“As your boss, I demand you eat and let me help with dishes.”
“All right, boss.” I plated some pasta and vegetables andtook a seat next to him. He turned a little, and so did I, so we could better chat.
“Why did you become a vegetarian?”
“I don’t want to eat animals.”
He nodded. “Good answer. Do you find it hard to cook meat?”
“I don’t give it much thought because I’m not going to judge people. If they like to consume meat, that’s their choice. I try to season it in ways I’d season plant-based foods. I make the best lentil burgers. I thought you’d have them later this week. I also make amazing fries with sesame seeds. I think you’d like those too.”
“I look forward to it.”
He said all the right things, and it made my heart soar a little, but deep down, I knew we were only ever going to be friends, and that’s the way it had to be because not only was I his employee, but I couldn’t allow my heart to be hurt once again.
We finished eating, he helped me with the dishes, and as I packed up to go home, a piece of me realized how much I loved working for him and how much I missed him each time I left.
Chapter Twelve
Wolseley
Ididn’t know much about hockey. I didn’t follow it, but now I knew more about the sport than possibly Tangi and Jill combined. Brandon and I got into the habit of having dinner together when we could, and he would tell me all the intricate details of the game. He’d even pulled out a mini whiteboard modeled after a hockey rink and taught me the rules with the checkboard magnets—or whatever they were. I learned about offsides, icing, power plays, penalty kills, breakaways, and more. He would get so animated with his new student that he’d pull out his phone and google examples for me to watch.
He loved teaching me about the game, and it was an interesting subject. My brother and dad watched sports, and I think they liked hockey, but since I’d never been good at a sport, I’d never watched one. Instead, I could spend the day watching cooking shows and then help my mother elevate meals with what I’d learned. When Dad let me marinate and season what he was about to barbecue, I knew I’d hit the big-time. Dad wasthe king of the barbecue and rarely let anyone touch anything barbecue related.
“You should come to games with Jill and Tangi. I think you’d have fun.”
I’d have fun watching him, and that was the problem. “Sounds like a great idea,” I said, “but you are going to want your aftergame meal prepped. Will the food fairy be doing that?”
He frowned, and small lines formed around his mouth. “I think I know how to warm up food. You should come. I think you need to see the game live.”
“Okay,” I said, not wanting to let him down.
The next morning, he was going on a two-game road trip that would have him away for three days. Just a short trip to Calgary and Edmonton, he said, two cities I learned were a province away and just hours from each other. I didn’t have contacts there, but I’d found some private chefs who would deliver meals to the hotels Brandon was staying at. I planned to send him off with a high-protein breakfast and tons of healthy snacks to keep him satiated.
“Since I’ve been at this a few weeks, I’d like to run some things past you,” I said as I heaped more pasta on his plate. Tonight, it was a simple marinara sauce with grilled vegetables and chicken. I’d marinated chicken in one of my old recipes that Dad still used, and Brandon seemed to like it. The meal was finished off with a salad to cleanse his palate, and for dessert, a protein-like chocolate bar I’d perfected. It tasted just like a peanut butter cup since he told me those were his guilty pleasures.
“Sure,” he said, holding up a piece of eggplant. “You know, I don’t think I’ve had eggplant before, but whatever you do to it, it’s amazing.”
“I love working with eggplant. Did you know it’s actuallyconsidered a fruit?” I said it with a huge smile, because now I was imparting information to him for once. “The British prefer to call it aubergine. Eggplants are closely related to tomatoes, which are also a fruit.”
“Is that so? Now, isn’t aubergine a shade of purple?”
I thought about that for a second. “I think it became a color shade because of eggplants.”
“Interesting. Well, it’s delicious.”
He’d sidetracked me, so it was time to get back to the subject at hand. “So I’ve been on the job a few weeks, and I appreciate all the feedback you’ve been giving me,” I said, although he hadn’t been giving me much other than to say how much he loved the food, which was nice, but not exactly feedback. “I know you don’t love soups but are okay with stews, so that’s helpful. I have increased the meat-based proteins mostly because you eat so much.”
He chuckled at that.
“I do want to talk budget. You didn’t give me one, and I feel like maybe I’m spending more than I should?”