Thanks to urban sprawl, the ladies of Dallas found her salon and made it profitable. Thanks to the recent economic downturn, those profits had been eaten up quicker than Texas wintergrass in a wildfire.
Mama’s only option to make the balloon payment due at the beginning of the year was to refinance, but she needed more income to qualify. Shay’s income. Courtesy of a “friend” of her meddling paternal grandmother, Meemaw, a well-paying government job awaited her—provided she received her degree in December, as planned. No one ever asked if it was a job Shay wanted. It didn’t matter.
But Brody’s agent had apparently strong-armed someone at the bank, who spilled the beans about her mama’s financial woes. Now Brody could scuttle the whole dang thing with a few choice words to her academic advisor. In a moment of madness, Shay wanted to tell Brody he could take his personal chef’s job and shove it. If the Platinum Palace were gone, she’d be free to do what she wanted. But it was a fact of life that Shay would never be free to do what she wanted.
She looked from the ugly paper in front of her to his blue eyes. There was nothing charming about them now. Instead, they were shrewd and calculating. Shay doubted many people saw this side of Brody Janik and she rather wished she wasn’t seeing it, either. But as her daddy would say, Brody had her between a rock and a hard place. The only thing to do was to figure out a way to work it to her advantage. Having access to a professional athlete and his diet would definitely provide her with the information she needed for her thesis. It meant she wouldn’t have to get up with the roosters to meet with the high school swim team every morning to collect data.
Shay scanned the document again. “The deal is I cook for you. Nothing else.”
“We’ve already covered that there’ll be nothing else.”
She tried not cringe at his words. “You have to eat what I prepare, when I tell you to.”
Brody narrowed his eyes. “Within reason.”
“No. This is nonnegotiable. If you want to properly manage your blood sugar so it doesn’t affect your game, you have to do it my way.”
Shay could tell from his body language that she was testing his patience. Part of her hoped he’d back off from this loony plan—but only a small part. The rest of her was excited to put some of her skills to use. After all, it might be the only opportunity she had to use her education as she’d intended.
“I’m not eating anything crazy,” he argued. “Like tofu or funny vegetables.”
“What constitutes a funny vegetable?”
“Anything that isn’t green beans or corn.”
She rolled her eyes as her brain geared up for the challenge. “Corn is like pure sugar, a simple carbohydrate, actually, and something you need to avoid.”
Brody sighed in annoyance. “We’ll take it one step at a time. Just e-mail my assistant with a list of the groceries you need and she’ll have them delivered.” He handed her a business card for a Gwen Olsen. “Now, give me your phone.”
“Why?”
“So I can call you when I get hungry.” He snatched the phone from her hand, presumably entering his number on her keypad. The phone in his pants pocket rang and he handed hers back to her. “The contract prohibits you from distributing my number also, in case you get any ideas.” He handed her a pen. “Do we have a deal?”
“Do I have a choice?”
A flicker of something passed over his face, but it was gone before Shay could identify it. “No. Neither one of us does.”
Shay took the pen and signed the form with less reluctance than she should have felt.
“You can start tonight, so tell your neighbor you’re not available to babysit.”
Maddox’s mother, Jackie, worked weekends mostly, when her mother-in-law could come up to watch her kids. Shay and Mrs. Elder were only backups, but he didn’t need to know that. “I don’t get finished here until two thirty. Then I have my seniors
Mama’s only option to make the balloon payment due at the beginning of the year was to refinance, but she needed more income to qualify. Shay’s income. Courtesy of a “friend” of her meddling paternal grandmother, Meemaw, a well-paying government job awaited her—provided she received her degree in December, as planned. No one ever asked if it was a job Shay wanted. It didn’t matter.
But Brody’s agent had apparently strong-armed someone at the bank, who spilled the beans about her mama’s financial woes. Now Brody could scuttle the whole dang thing with a few choice words to her academic advisor. In a moment of madness, Shay wanted to tell Brody he could take his personal chef’s job and shove it. If the Platinum Palace were gone, she’d be free to do what she wanted. But it was a fact of life that Shay would never be free to do what she wanted.
She looked from the ugly paper in front of her to his blue eyes. There was nothing charming about them now. Instead, they were shrewd and calculating. Shay doubted many people saw this side of Brody Janik and she rather wished she wasn’t seeing it, either. But as her daddy would say, Brody had her between a rock and a hard place. The only thing to do was to figure out a way to work it to her advantage. Having access to a professional athlete and his diet would definitely provide her with the information she needed for her thesis. It meant she wouldn’t have to get up with the roosters to meet with the high school swim team every morning to collect data.
Shay scanned the document again. “The deal is I cook for you. Nothing else.”
“We’ve already covered that there’ll be nothing else.”
She tried not cringe at his words. “You have to eat what I prepare, when I tell you to.”
Brody narrowed his eyes. “Within reason.”
“No. This is nonnegotiable. If you want to properly manage your blood sugar so it doesn’t affect your game, you have to do it my way.”
Shay could tell from his body language that she was testing his patience. Part of her hoped he’d back off from this loony plan—but only a small part. The rest of her was excited to put some of her skills to use. After all, it might be the only opportunity she had to use her education as she’d intended.
“I’m not eating anything crazy,” he argued. “Like tofu or funny vegetables.”
“What constitutes a funny vegetable?”
“Anything that isn’t green beans or corn.”
She rolled her eyes as her brain geared up for the challenge. “Corn is like pure sugar, a simple carbohydrate, actually, and something you need to avoid.”
Brody sighed in annoyance. “We’ll take it one step at a time. Just e-mail my assistant with a list of the groceries you need and she’ll have them delivered.” He handed her a business card for a Gwen Olsen. “Now, give me your phone.”
“Why?”
“So I can call you when I get hungry.” He snatched the phone from her hand, presumably entering his number on her keypad. The phone in his pants pocket rang and he handed hers back to her. “The contract prohibits you from distributing my number also, in case you get any ideas.” He handed her a pen. “Do we have a deal?”
“Do I have a choice?”
A flicker of something passed over his face, but it was gone before Shay could identify it. “No. Neither one of us does.”
Shay took the pen and signed the form with less reluctance than she should have felt.
“You can start tonight, so tell your neighbor you’re not available to babysit.”
Maddox’s mother, Jackie, worked weekends mostly, when her mother-in-law could come up to watch her kids. Shay and Mrs. Elder were only backups, but he didn’t need to know that. “I don’t get finished here until two thirty. Then I have my seniors
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