I’m your favorite, huh?” They’d been joined at the hip since birth and there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. She was his baby sister by five minutes, and he took his charge as big brother seriously. It had been hard relinquishing the reins to her husband, even if Omar was his friend and teammate. He pulled out a bowl of mixed greens, sliced the chicken into bite-size pieces and added them. “How’ve you been feeling?”
Morgan ran a gentle hand over her rounded belly. “Pretty good. The only thing is whenever I sit for more than five minutes, this kid starts moving around so much, I swear there’s a full-fledged game of tackle football going on.”
“Well, you only have two more months to go. Did you and Omar change your minds about finding out the baby’s sex?” Malcolm placed the bowl on the table, along with plates, utensils and a smaller bowl of salad dressing.
“Nope. We’re going to wait. Of course, Vonnie and Faith are trying to get me to change my mind, talking about they need to know what to shop for.” Siobhan, whom they affectionately called Vonnie, was the oldest of the five siblings. She and her husband, Justin, had a daughter who’d just celebrated her first birthday.
He smiled, got two glasses of iced mint tea and brought them to the table. “Faith isn’t expecting, is she?” Faith and their oldest brother, Brandon, were trying for a baby, and Malcolm hoped they had good news soon.
She shook her head as she filled her plate.
Their mother was beside herself with being a grandmother and with all of her children getting married. The only problem was that her attention had now shifted solely to Malcolm, the only single one. But he wasn’t biting. As he had told his family countless times, he planned to be a bachelor for life. He loved the freedom to come and go as he pleased, and the ability to decide when he wanted to date. No hassle, no fuss. He would gladly accept the role of uncle and spoil his nieces and nephews.
After reciting a short blessing, he and Morgan started in on the meal.
“What kind of dressing is this?” She sniffed. “Lemon what?”
“It’s lemon basil. Something I ran across at a restaurant where I had dinner. This is my attempt to recreate it. I used light sour cream to cut some of the calories, fresh basil, lemon juice and a little salt and garlic pepper. What do you think?”
Morgan ate a bite, angled her head thoughtfully and groaned. “It’s really good. And that’s why I come over here to eat when Omar isn’t home.”
Malcolm shook his head. “Did he go over to the center?”
“Yes. Rashad is finally going to talk to one of the psychologists, but he said he’d only go if Omar went with him. He’s gone to a few of the group sessions, but that’s it.” Omar and a group of organizers had opened a mental health center geared toward veterans two years ago. Omar’s older brother, Rashad, suffered from PTSD, and Omar wanted a place for Rashad and others like him to seek treatment that didn’t center wholly around medication.
“I’m glad. I know how much he’s been hoping Rashad would go.” They ate in silence for a few minutes.
“What’s going on?”
He glanced up from his plate. “Nothing. Why?”
Morgan stared at him a long moment. “So you’re okay with Lauren being the nutritionist? I assume it’s the same Lauren responsible for breaking your heart in college.”
Malcolm set the fork down and pushed the plate aside. He blew out a long breath. “Yeah, it’s her.” Just the mention of her name conjured up an image of her standing in the center of the room earlier.
“I still owe her for that, so I hope I don’t run into her while I’m at the practice facility.”
“Let it go, Morgan.” When Morgan found out what happened, she had stormed over to Lauren’s dorm room, and he’d had to carry Morgan out to keep her from kicking Lauren’s butt. In their family, the rule had always been mess with one, mess with all. It was even truer for him and Morgan. “She doesn’t matter. I’ve been over her a long time.” At least he thought so. Malcolm had been in several relationships since their breakup and hadn’t thought of her once after the sting had died down. But his reaction to Lauren today told him he still had some lingering feelings that he’d buried.
Morgan took a sip of her tea. “What are you going to do about having to consult with her?”
“Nothing. I eat clean eighty percent of the time, work out four or five times a week, sometimes more, and my weight is fine. I have no need to see her.” Malcolm knew Lauren would be sending out emails to all the players to schedule the preseason consultation—the same routine every year—but he intended to send her the same information he had just mentioned to his sister, with the numbers, and ignore her for as long as possible. He had to stay far away from her. His sanity depended on it.
Thursday morning, Lauren made it to the Cobras’ training facility at seven thirty. After three days on the job, she considered it a major accomplishment that she went straight to her office without taking a wrong turn. She powered up her computer, checked her schedule and read through her emails. She had sent a message to all the players and had three scheduled for today, including one with linebacker Darren Butler. So far, a little over half had responded, but not Malcolm. Not that she expected him to. A knock sounded, and her head came up.
“Morning. May I come in?”
Though the man wore athletic pants and shirt, she didn’t remember seeing his face on the roster. He stood close to six feet with a trim, toned body, military-short dark hair and deep brown eyes set in a handsome olive-toned face. “Certainly.”
“I’m Nigel West, the chef.”
Lauren smiled and stood to shake his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nigel. I’m Lauren.”
“The pleasure is all mine.”
“Please have a seat.” She gestured to the small table and joined him there. “How long have you been the team chef?”
“Going on six years. For the most part, it’s been a blast, but there have been a few hiccups along the way,” Nigel added with a chuckle.
“Tell me a little about the meal setup. I want to see what you already have before making any changes.”
“Sure.” He leaned back in the chair and crossed his ankle over his knee. “There used to be a variety of approved snacks available at all times and a good amount of fruits and vegetables. But over the last year, let’s just say things weren’t as tight.”
“There were fewer healthy options.”
“You got it.”
Lauren wondered if that was what had led to the former dietitian being let go.
As if reading her mind, Nigel said, “When a few players weighed in at fifteen or twenty pounds over what had been reported, it was bye-bye, Stan. To make matters worse, he had taken money from two players who’d bribed him to lie.”
“Are they still
