Free False Start by Barbara Valentin

better, could be mistaken as fondness.
    But she did know better. At least she thought she did.
    She slapped on a frown as he explained, "We've gotta get a lot of miles on your legs. You're going from not running at all to running over twenty-six miles in one shot."
    "Again, don't remind me."
    She looked longingly at the picture of a scrumptious, over-sized blueberry muffin on her placemat.
    "If you don't think you can do it, you won't," he continued. "Besides, you won't be running every day. Some days, we'll cross-train. Swim or bike. I might even throw in some yoga."
    It was a little past eight in the morning. Without her usual caffeine fix, Mattie's wit evaded her. "Whatever," was all she could come up with, so she kept it to herself.
    Instead, she turned her attention back to Nick's list and began reading each rule aloud with increasing alarm. "No late nights. No junk food. No coffee? Are you insane? How do you expect me to function?"
    "You just gotta replace those bad habits with some new ones."
    "You know, that line might work with your sixteen-year-old protégés, but I'm a grown woman. A successful working woman."
    "Yeah. So I see."
    Feeling his eyes comb over her sweaty mass of curls, frumpy sweatshirt and almost makeup free face, she turned her attention to the omelet Peg slid in front of her. The clumps of vegetables on the otherwise stark white plate did little to stir her appetite. It's not that she minded the green peppers, mushrooms and onions, but she preferred them sitting on a cornmeal pizza crust, smothered in melted mozzarella cheese, and dripping with basil-laced tomato sauce.
    After filling her mouth with a forkful of hot food, her face contorted into a pained expression.
    Nick nodded, "I know, right? It's good stuff."
    Mattie groped for her water and guzzled it. When she had distinguished the fire in her mouth, she gave him a weak smile. "So good."
    Nick swallowed a mouthful of buttermilk pancakes saturated with melted butter and syrup, and nodded at her plate. "From here on out, no more rich food. Not while you're in training, got it?"
    While Mattie tried to discern his use of the word "rich," the memory of Eddie taking her to brunch at the Hotel Intercontinental on Michigan Avenue came to mind. She had never seen such a sumptuous display of her least favorite meal in all of her life.
    It was the first and, unfortunately, last time she ever had Eggs Benedict. She savored every single bite, not minding in the least that the dish consumed her entire recommended daily calorie allotment. Salivating at the memory of the silky sauce, she sighed.
    While she still fantasized about Eddie returning from wherever slimeballs go just so he could grovel at her feet and beg forgiveness, there was still no denying the fact that he had impeccable taste. He was what her mother would have described as a cad. Her absentee father, she could only imagine, would have admired his audacity.
    She could still hear her ex-fiancé saying through mouthfuls of foie gras, "Everything tastes better when you wash it down with champagne."
    Yes, especially when you don't have to pay for it, you low-life scumbag.
    Mattie looked across the table at Nick. He sat frozen, fork in hand, waiting for her reply. His expression was a collage of pride, vulnerability, and hurt, but Mattie noticed something else in those long-lashed eyes. Hope?
    Forcing an expressionless smile, she admitted, "I'm just not much of a breakfast person."
    First, she noticed his shoulders relax, then his entire countenance. "Well, you're gonna have to become one. You're in training now. What you eat and when you eat it fuels your body and has a direct impact on your performance."
    "Easy, big guy. I didn't say I was going on a hunger strike. I know I may not look like it, but I've been dieting on and off my entire life, so please, don't lecture me about proper nutrition."
    She was relieved that Peg appeared before Nick could respond. With check in hand, she stared at