They weren’t spending time around the pool. Neva had an amazing body two years ago, and now it was even better. Spending time around her while she was wearing a bikini wasn’t going to help me in any way.
“Get my bearings. Have a nap.”
Anything but having to stare at her.
CHAPTER4
Neva
On holiday,I needed two things: sunshine and fresh, simple food. I’d toyed with the idea of becoming a chef when I was younger, of going to culinary school because I loved cooking – not baking, just cooking. I’d take a handful of ingredients and see what I could make out of them, keeping it simple.
But, as I learned, being a chef who wanted to keep things simple wasn’t going to get me very far. Diners wanted fancy dishes, things they couldn’t cook, food that was going to be a luxury because of how it was put together, its complexity, and the calories. They wanted a treat.
I wanted to prepare tasty food that was healthy. Sustainable. Would promote healing. A friend from school had cancer when we were just seventeen. It was stage three by the time they caught it, thinking she was too young to have it. We researched all the things she could do to help fight it, to get better. It was a way of taking back control.
Diet was a key weapon. Vegetables, certain types of food with anti-inflammatory properties, avoiding foods that caused inflammation, looking at the relationship between food and hormones. Then making it tasty. Enticing.
I found my passion.
We weren’t in the Mediterranean, but the local produce here was amazing. I spent an hour or so each morning walking through the little village near to the chateau, picking up vegetables and fruits, some of the meats and – because we were on holiday – the bread. Breakfast and supper were prepared for us by Suzette and Carina and their team, but we were to fend for ourselves during the day, which meant Kitty and I could have some input into our players’ diets.
Especially Jude’s.
He’d been too easy to spend time with since we’d been here, which was useful, because we’d ended up talking a lot. Two years ago, he’d seemed more of a kid, but maybe it’d been watching his teammates settle down and Nate having another baby because he wasn’t quite as impulsive as he’d been back then.
“What’ve you bought?” He appeared from over my shoulder in the kitchen.
“Cherries. They’re at the peak of their season here and they’re good for joint conditions because they contain anthocyanins, so I’m going to add them to a salad. I think Kitty’s going to do smoothies with them too.” I smiled at him as he pinched one.
“They’re tart. Wow.” He grabbed another.
“The tart ones are really good for you.”
“They’d be better in a pie.” His eyes lit up hopefully, his smile the same one from two years ago; boyish and charming.
“I might do a pie too.” There were ways to keep the sugar content down, so we were good there.
“I’ll look forward to it.” He bounced out of the kitchen on his crutches, shooting me another grin. In the last few days he’d become faster with the boot on his foot, and seemed more comfortable. I’d heard him say to Nate that there was less pain now.
The next few months were going to be frustrating for him. That was the worry. I knew Jude had received an ADHD diagnosis about a year ago, which had made a lot of things make sense. It wasn’t common knowledge, and I’d only found out because I’d been asked by the team’s psychotherapist to give some information on how diet could help. I’d explained that there was no proven link between food and ADHD, but key foods could help anyone – meals rich in protein and complex carbohydrates, which was important for any athlete’s diet. There was also the sensory side. ADHD wasn’t just about being overly energetic and lacking attention, it was about the brain seeking stimulation, and food, with its texture and taste and how it made the body feel after eating could help.
I still didn’t know if Jude knew I was aware of his diagnosis. He probably was because of my role, but we’d done our best to avoid each other without it being obvious since I’d ended it.
I made my salad; quinoa, honey, cashews, leaves and other bits that were around, and then went to town on the cherry pie, using local honey again and keeping it sugar free.
Kitty was busy in the kitchen making smoothies and pastries, having spent a morning in a local boulangerie and wanting to practice. She’d opened up her little café across the grounds three or so years ago, and I’d tapped her up quickly, knowing that my players would gravitate over there, and we’d colluded so that a lot of her recipes fit with their food plans.
Jude blocked the sun from the doorway about an hour later.
“I’ve been told to come and find you. I think the message was ‘get out of the kitchen and enjoy the sun.’” He rested against the door frame and gave me that smile. “I volunteered because – cherry pie.”
I ignored the way my heart jumped in my chest.
This wasn’t good. This was why I’d been avoiding him. Jude Whittingham was oozing with charisma and sex appeal, the sort that could make you want to lie down on a platter and say ‘eat me’. He was also a decade too young.
“It’s on a slow bake until two. Then you get cherry pie.” I shook my head at him, pulling off the apron I’d put over my T-shirt and cut off shorts. My swimwear was on underneath, a red two-piece with white polka dots that I really liked, so much that I’d put off wearing it until I had the base for a tan. I tanned quickly, which pissed Amber and Genny off, needing only a couple of days somewhere fairly sunny before I looked like I’d spent three weeks in Portugal in the height of summer.
Jude’s smile turned devilish, his eyes shining with mischief.
