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Chapter 8
Izzie
I quickly scan the tables loaded with food. I determined the menu myself, giving it a lot of thought—eggs, bacon, pastries, fruit, muffins…three different kinds.
I adjust theVlabel on the plate of vegan protein muffins. I actually made them myself for Dirk, the linebacker. He’s the biggest guy on the team at 6’7”, and something in the neighborhood of three hundred pounds.
I smile to myself. He’s such a huge guy, but he can’t stand the idea of eating anything that comes from an animal.
“Ready?” Fran appears at my elbow. “Your first time to see the entire team together. It can be kind of a shock.”
I roll my eyes, grinning. “I’m not sure we can cram all that testosterone into one room,” I say, and she grins back at me. “Do you think there’s enough food?”
“Trust me, Izzie,” Fran says, already moving away to greet the first players trickling in. “You could have ten times this much food and it would be inhaled in mere moments. I’m sure you warned the caterers about how much to bring.”
“I made a few things myself,” I admit. “Vegan muffins for Dirk. Protein smoothies. Not too much sugar.”
“Excellent!” Fran says over her shoulder. “I’m sure they’ll go over big with this bunch.”
I stand there, feeling pretty awkward as she’s swallowed up by the hulking players, laughing with them and greeting them each by name. I’d met each one of these guys individually, but it was a whole different thing to see them barreling through the door as a crowd.
No, not a crowd—a stampeding herd. And right at the front…fuck…Brady, making a beeline for me. Why couldn’t he just keep to the herd?
“Hiya, beautiful,” he says, turning on his charm like flicking a switch.
“It’s Izzie,” I remind him icily.
I really don’t need this right now. I’m nervous enough.
“S’cuse me,Izzie,” Brady says. He reaches around me and grabs a plate. “So, your first team breakfast. What’s the special of the day? Grits? Pork gravy? Cheese Danish?”
“Well, since I’m trying to feed you guys healthy stuff, it won’t be anything you like,” I say, trying to move away from him.
Unfortunately, he follows me, and the crush of hungry football players pins us by the buffet table.
“Aww, come on,” Brady says, giving me puppy dog eyes. “I can eat healthy. Especially if you’re going to tell me how. I mean, you could even go to dinner with me sometime and tell me what to eat.”
I give him what I hope is a withering look, but he ignores it. He leans over the table and grabs one of the vegan muffins. “These look pretty good.”
“Those are for…” I start to say as he pops an entire muffin into his mouth in one bite and reaches for another.
“For me? Great!” He grabs another and practically swallows it whole. At this rate, they’ll be gone before Dirk even gets close to the table.
I start to warn him about the dangers of taking food out of Dirk’s mouth, but then I see Dirk himself moving through the crowd, his enormous frame plowing through the other players like a boat through deep water.
Bet he won’t be too happy if he finds out Brady scarfed down his entire plate of muffins, I think evilly.
So instead of telling Brady to lay off, I smile sweetly and say, “I’m glad you like those. I made them myself.”
Brady has piled the V muffins—V is for…shut up, Izzie, don’t even think about that.Dammit, Brady—on his plate.
“So you can cook too, huh? The prefect woman. Beautiful and talented.” He gives me that winsome little boy smile again making me want to snarl at him.
“Well, gee, I am a nutritionist,” I say sarcastically. “It’s a job requirement that I should at least know my way around a kitchen. Or are you just one of those Neanderthals who think all women should spend their time baking for men?”
Too late, I think about the phrase “barefoot and pregnant” and think about poor Lucy.
Brady looks a little startled. “Uh, no. Just trying to give you a compliment.” He brushes the crumbs off his shirt, eyeing me speculatively. It makes me squirm when he looks like he’s trying to figure out where he knows me from.
