No. No, I was not. I shook my head to clear it from the ridiculous baller-induced brain fog and focused back on my boss. “Yes, sir. Bruce. How can I help?”
“Markus Harris reached out to me in hopes of getting some help finding a personal chef for Tiller, here. I remembered this was an area of expertise for you, so I hoped you might be able to help us.”
It wasn’t until that moment, I realized there was another man in the room. Markus Harris was a well-known sports agent who represented several of the Riggers, so I’d come across him several times in the past few years.
He didn’t like me for some reason, which meant I avoided him like the plague. I was disappointed to realize Tiller was one of his clients.
I nodded at Markus, cleared my throat, and looked back at Bruce. “I spoke to Coach about it last night. I can’t think of anyone who would be a good fit. I’m sorry. You might—”
Just as I was preparing to suggest he reach out to the department at UT to inquire about recent grads looking for work, he held up a hand to stop me.
“You misunderstand,” Bruce said with a kind smile. “I was hoping you might help him directly. Greta has found a permanent PA for me, so I thought this would be a great way for you to stay employed while you’re continuing your job search. You can cook for Tiller through the season and start any new position afterward. That way he gets help learning how to manage his diet, and you have the freedom to continue your search without feeling rushed. What do you say?”
Every square inch of my body began to sweat at once.
“Oh.” I could have really used some of that saliva right about now. My throat clicked as I tried to swallow again. “Oh.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tiller’s full mouth turn down briefly. I closed my eyes and tried not to notice him. Reason number one, this would never work.
“It’s just that…” I began. I didn’t have anything else to say, really, but I’d never been one to abide awkward silence.
Markus eyed me from his spot on a nearby chair. “Didn’t you work for Nelson Evangelista?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then you already know the demands of a professional ballplayer’s career and schedule,” he interjected. “You’re familiar with the demands of confidentiality. In fact, I assume you already have an NDA on file with the league as you are Coach Vining’s son.”
“Of course, but—”
His smile was sharklike. “Then it’s settled. The sooner Tiller can get this sorted out, the better. You can move into the apartment over the garage and start tomorrow.”
My heart thundered as I remembered my dad’s fist banging on the table last night. “I don’t think Coach would—”
Bruce offered me another familial smile. “Don’t you worry about Coach. I’ll handle him. Besides, it was his idea Tiller get a personal chef in the first place.”
I snuck a glance at Tiller, who was standing next to me looking as shell-shocked as I was.
“But…” I tried again.
Markus let out an impatient sigh. “Whatever Evangelista was paying you, we’ll double it and include room and board if you’re willing to use the apartment. Especially if you also agree to take on some PA duties. So long as you’re using his kitchen, you may as well manage the household as well.”
Suddenly, the vision of my own little cafe became a little clearer. Nelson had paid me an outrageous sum to be his personal assistant. Even if I only spent the next six months working at twice the rate, I’d save up a ton of money and get the hell out of my parents’ house.
“And the garage apartment is completely separate?” I asked, clarifying that this would not exactly be a live-in situation like before.
Tiller nodded. “I’m not looking for live-in help, but you’re welcome to the apartment. There is a back entrance to the kitchen, so you can use it without coming into the rest of the house.”
He said it in a way that implied I was somehow interested in getting all up in his personal business. “I know the house,” I snapped. “I’ve been there many times.”
Tiller’s eyes widened in surprise. “Good, then you won’t need my help getting settled,” he gritted out.
As if, I wanted to hiss. Instead, I turned back to Bruce. “And it’s just for the rest of the season?”
Markus was the one who answered. “Definitely. In the meantime, I’ll look for someone more permanent for Mr. Raine during the off-season so you can be on your merry way.”
I didn’t bother looking at him. “Fine.”
Bruce chuckled lightly under his breath. “Mikey, you’re your father’s son. Fiery and forthright. Can’t hide your real feelings to save your life. Carry on.” He gestured me out the door with a flap of his hand.