Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
But I could look my fill. And I did. All the fucking time. Mikey happened to love swimming and lying out in the sun. I took every opportunity to do the same whenever he spent time by the pool.
“Anyway,” he continued, as if I wasn’t picturing his smooth abdomen bisected by a dark happy trail leading down into his swim trunks. “It sold as a ‘Chef to the NFL Stars’ kinda deal, so I was going to talk to you about it before signing the final papers to make sure you were okay with it. I don’t have to mention your name or anything. I can always use my dad and brothers as my example, but it’s still public knowledge I work for you.”
I kept my hand on Mike’s shoulder and ran a thumb up the side of his neck. When I realized what I was doing, I jerked my hand away and stepped back.
“You can use anything you want of mine, including my name. It’s going to be amazing. I’m so excited for you. What do you need from me to make it happen?”
Suddenly, I was hit with a horrific thought.
“You’re not quitting.”
I didn’t even have the balls to form it as a question.
Mikey’s eyes widened. “No. Jesus, no. That is… not unless you want me to?”
I shook my head emphatically, unable to form the simple word around the temporary rock of fear lodged in my throat.
He grinned again. “Good. That’s settled. No, I just let go of my catering clients for now so I could focus on the book without letting any of your stuff go. Before each recipe, there will be some text explaining the science behind why the recipe is ideal for top-performing athletes and how it can be adapted for mixed audiences or nonathletes. I’ll use my catering time to write instead.”
“That sounds great,” I said sincerely. “Your dad must be proud.”
Mikey’s face darkened. “I haven’t told him yet.”
“Why not?”
He sighed. “He’s not going to be supportive. He’s going to tell me I shouldn’t give proprietary or helpful information of any kind to his competitors. He seems to think part of the reason the team has been in better shape these days is because, and I quote, ‘Those bozos are spending so much time at Raine’s house they must be picking up a thing or two about nutrition.’”
It was true, but I decided not to say that out loud. I valued my nuts too much.
“No offense,” I said, “but you didn’t invent nutrition. Any other team can get—and already has—nutritionists on staff. So that’s bullshit. I hope you know that.”
Mikey moved back over to the other side of the island to get the lemonade pitcher out of the fridge again. “I know that. It’s why I didn’t let fear of his reaction stop me from pursuing my dream. But I still don’t want to tell him until the project is further along.”
“Understood. It’s your business, and you’re an adult.”
Mikey poured more lemonade into my cup before delivering the killing blow. “So I was kind of looking forward to getting away to focus on writing and tinkering with some of the recipes. If we stay here…”
He didn’t have to say it. Our house had become a revolving door of friends and family over the years. Most of the time it was great. We both thrived having people around, but if you wanted to be alone, our house wasn’t the place to do it.
“Okay,” I said. “If Coach said it’s okay, and if I can get the games on TV, we’ll go.”
He looked at me with an expression that said, “What kind of fool do you take me for?”
“Tiller, every cabin I picked has Wi-Fi, a big-screen TV, and satellite service. We’re not going to Siberia.”
I flipped through the options and stopped when I saw the one with the nicest gourmet kitchen. It also happened to be farthest from Denver. Win-win. “This one,” I said, pulling the printout from the folder and handing it to him. “And book yourself in first class next to me. Don’t make me upgrade you at the gate like every other fucking time. It annoys the crap out of me, and you know it.”
“Fine. We leave tomorrow. This time pack more than just sweats.”
“That was one time, asshole,” I muttered. “And you had nicer clothes for me in your bag anyway, so it wasn’t a problem.”
He laughed and pulled a bottle of white wine out of the fridge for him and Sam. “I’ll need to borrow one of your winter coats. I don’t own one.”
I stared at him with my mouth dropped open until Mikey started laughing. “Kidding. God, you’re gullible. I had to buy a thick down parka two years ago when we went to Minnesota for that charity exposition thing. I don’t expect you to remember since you were so busy bitching about the game. The game for charity.”