Page 38 of The Sweet Spot
“He is super cool,” Delia said after he’d left. “He doesn’t give you any grief. You have no idea how many jerks I have to deal with when their orders are wrong. And I’m just the delivery person, but they need to complain to someone, I guess.”
“That sounds rough. But you’re right. Brandon is easy to work with. I think Ryan is too. I’m sure they’re both happy not to have to worry about making or getting food.”
Once Delia was gone, and I finished prepping Brandon’s late-night meal, I got to work on protein bars. I finished my first batch and realized I hadn’t eaten myself. I had some of the leftover pasta and then sat down for a bit. I’d been on my feet the whole day, and I needed a few minutes to rest. I took in some deep breaths and did a few meditation techniques I’d learned on a month-long trip through India. I’d gone all over the country tasting food and learning to meditate. Those memories came flooding back, and when I opened my eyes, I was immediately disoriented. Where the hell was I? The room was unfamiliar. My God, had someone broken into Brandon’s condo and abducted me? I shot straight up, realizing I was still in my jeans and old Janis Joplin concert T-shirt. My phone was in my pocket, so I could at least call someone to help me. I jumped out of the bed, relieved that the abductor hadn’t restrained me. I tiptoed to the closed door, thankful it wasn’t locked, and quietly opened it. I peered down the short hallway and nearly burst out in laughter. I was in Brandon’s spare bedroom. Then it hit me. How the hell had I gotten there?
After the discovery of where I was, the next thing I checked on was the time. It was just after five in the morning. I quickly went home, showered and changed, and was back before Brandon was up. I got the coffee started and surveyed my situation. The kitchen was spotless. He’d put away the protein bars, cleaned the dishes and pots, and wiped down all the countertops. I hoped he wasn’t mad at the way I’d left the kitchen. I hadn’t expected to fall asleep for ten hours!
Brandon liked hearty breakfasts after a game, so that’s what I got started on. One cheese-and-veggie omelet with some of my bread. I whipped up a fruit salad and some hot quinoa cereal. Iwas finishing up when he wandered into the kitchen, letting out a yawn. I watched him closely to see if he was pissed, but he seemed himself.
“I am so sorry about last night,” I said. “I don’t know what came over me. And you shouldn’t have cleaned up. I would have done it this morning.”
“I didn’t have the heart to wake you. You were passed out on my sofa, so I thought you’d be more comfortable in the spare room. As for cleaning, I was a little wired after the game. We lost. Badly. So I needed to get rid of some pent-up energy after reading all of my dad’s unhelpful texts.”
He carried me to the spare bedroom, and I’d missed the whole thing.
“How badly did you lose?” was all I could think to ask. I decided not to ask about his dad. It was definitely a sore spot.
“We lost six-nothing at home. It’s embarrassing.”
I grimaced as I poured him some coffee. He sat at the island and hunched over the cup.
“That sucks,” I said.
“The boo birds came out at the end of the game. Can’t say I blame the fans.”
“Do you have practice today?” I asked. I plated the first portion of his breakfast. He liked to start with protein, so it was the omelet.
“It’s optional, and while I should be there, I could use a day off to forget about last night.”
“Good plan. What’s on the agenda?” I asked, making small talk. I also needed to know when he planned to be around for lunch and dinner.
“I have no agenda today. I think it’s to do fuck all. What’s on your agenda?”
“I’m hitting Norman’s for some groceries, then heading to Yee’s Market for produce. Want to come?”
I’d said it before I’d thought about it. Why on earth would he want to go grocery shopping? How boring to watch me wander the aisles picking out food, but before I could take the invitation back, he opened his mouth to speak.
“I think I’d like that. When do we leave?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Brandon
“I’d like to see you in action.”
I must have caught her off guard because she kept staring at me. She finally snapped out of it and glanced at her watch.
“I like to leave before nine and be back by ten thirty. That’s when Delia gets here,” she said, still unsure of me.
Right. She’d hired an assistant, rather, Ryan’s delivery person. I’d seen her a few times in passing, a cute little blonde with a ton of energy. “I can be ready in five minutes.”
I was ready to go with a minute to spare. Wolseley was putting on her jacket and stuffing various reusable grocery bags into her small backpack. We got into the elevator, and I hit the button for the parking garage.
“I’m still mortified about last night,” she said. “I can’t believe you carried me to bed.” She stopped. “I mean, brought me to bed.” She stopped again. “Dropped me off in the spare bedroom before you went to your own bed.”
She was adorable when she got flustered, especially when her dimpled cheeks changed to their flushed hue. What I likedmost about her is how she found joy in the smallest things, like the time she found dragon fruit at one of the markets she regularly shopped at. She told me they were hard to find in Minnesota, and when she did find them, the price made them cost-prohibitive for the dish she’d envisioned.
“No big deal. It wasn’t like I was going to wake you up and kick you out. I’m not a monster.”