Page 28 of Crush
He smiled at me. “The kids sure had glowing reviews.”
“I'm glad to hear that,” I said. One of the things I enjoyed most was cooking a meal that people loved—nothing made me happier feeling like I'd nourished their heart and soul.
“Oh myGod,” Shea gushed after taking the first bite of chicken. “This is delicious, Brynn.” Eagerly, he sampled the potatoes next, and then the green beans. His eyes rolled back in his head and he wentmmmmm.“You know, I'm really glad the twins loved your meal.”
“Why's that?”
“I've had a hard time getting them to understand how much they need to eat.”
“W-why?” I asked. Shea was wandering dangerously close to a sensitive topic to me—the only question was if he somehow knew about it.
“Because they're growing boys,” Shea said. “Growing boys who are very physically active and want to play pro hockey like their old man.”
Oh,I thought with a breath of relief.That makes sense.
“Are they that good? To go pro?” I asked.
“Sure. But honestly, it's not how good you are, it's how bad you want it. And these days, everyone starts their kids earlier and earlier with strength and conditioning programs, and specialized diets, and so on.”
“Oh, wow. That's a lot for a ten-year-old.”
“I agree. Don't get the wrong idea—I'm not pushing them into it. I think hockey's supposed to be fun for the kids. But I want them to understand that if they're serious about going pro, they're right at the age they need to start doing their squats and deadlifts and eating big.” He shrugged. “At theveryleast, they need to eat more so they can gain mass. They're a little undersized for their Atom league.”
“That's a little surprising, considering their father's genetics.”
Shea laughed and almost choked on his bite. “Yeah, right?”
“Careful, don't choke. Half of Boston would want me dead if I killed their hockey captain.”
Shea had a devilish spark in his eye. “Ah hell, they'd get over it. I'm retiring at the end of the year, anyway.”
“Shea! Don't talk like that.”
“Did you play any sports growing up?”
I hesitated. “Cross country. If you think that counts as a sport, anyway.”
“I absolutely do.”
I smiled at him. “Good.”
“Speaking of good?” Shea took another big bite of chicken and swallowed it down. “This is amazing. Can I fire you as my nanny, and then rehire you as my personal chef?”
I laughed. “No, you can't do that.”
He flashed an indignant smile. “Why not?”
“Because that's not the job I interviewed for.”
“You'd rather raise my kids?”
“Yes.”
Shea shrugged. “Works for me, as long as you still cook.”
“I will. But don't go building me up in your mind thinking that I'm some gourmet chef or you're going to end up disappointed.”
“I doubt that,” he said. I could've sworn I saw his eyes flash up and down my body for the briefest of seconds.
