Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
CHELSEY
Two vans pulled up in the football field’s parking lot, and the passenger door of one opened.
“Where do you want the animals?” a gray-haired woman with a no-nonsense tone asked.
“I’ll show you,” I replied, gesturing for her to get out. “We have permission to use the facilities but not the playing field, so we’ve set aside an area.”
The woman climbed out and shook my hand. “I’m Viv.”
“Chelsey. Nice to meet you.”
I escorted her to the grassed area where I’d set up a tripod and camera earlier.
Coach Dunn had already arrived, and he was keeping an eye on the equipment while we got everything else figured out.
I’d tried to persuade him to participate in the photos and I’d talked him into doing one or two, but he preferred the focus be on the players.
“Here,” I said, gesturing around. The sun was shining, but there were a few clouds in the sky, which was probably good as it would make for better light for the photographs. A cool wind whisked past, and I was grateful for the sweater I’d donned before leaving the house this morning.
Viv nodded. “This will work. We have two pens, one for cats and one for dogs. The cat one has removable netting that goes over it, otherwise they tend to climb out.”
I laughed. That sounded about right.
“We only brought the animals that socialize reasonably well together,” she continued, running her hand over her hair as she took in the lay of the land. “Otherwise, the logistics would be too difficult.”
“That makes sense.”
Coach wandered over, and I introduced him to Viv.
“Do you mind staying here while I help Viv carry everything over?” I asked him.
He pointed to the camping chair he’d already unfolded. “I’ve got everything I need.” He checked his watch. “The guys should start arriving in the next five minutes or so.”
“We’d better get a move on, then.”
I returned to the vans with Viv. The other people from the shelter had already unloaded the fold-out pens, and two of them were figuring out how best to carry them while the third person watched the animals.
Now that the backs of the vans were open, I noticed they’d separated the cats and dogs, which made sense. No doubt the cats would remain calmer if they were segregated for as long as possible. A couple of the dogs were barking, but they didn’t sound aggressive, just excited.
“Want to help me with the other pen?” Viv asked, bending to pick up one side of the stacked frame. The pen seemed to fold in on itself in layers, meaning it wasn’t too long, but it was high enough to make seeing over it a challenge.
“Sure.”
I went to the other side and did my best to lift it in a way that wouldn’t dislodge anything. Together, we carried it sideways toward the field. It wasn’t particularly heavy, but it was awkward, so we had to pause a couple of times to adjust our grips.
Once we had it where it needed to go, we placed it gently down, and Viv showed me how to unfold and position it.
“I’ll get you to bring the netting over while we start relocating the animals,” she said as she straightened and wiped her palms on the front of her faded jeans.
“Sounds good.”
I took another trip for the netting, which I placed over the pen designated for the cats, then I worked with the shelter staff to ferry dogs and cats back and forth from the vans to the pens.
It was difficult not to stop to coo over each one.
I loved animals, and the dogs in particular seemed eager for attention.
Once all the animals were relocated and the staff were keeping an eye on them, I grabbed my second camera—not the one Matt had donated to the team but another one we’d already had—and snapped some candid shots of the animals on their own.
There was a mix of breeds: a couple of small terrier dogs, a tiny fluffy thing that would fit in a handbag, an older bull terrier who was being very chill, a collie cross, and some kind of Labrador cross that absolutely loved being in the spotlight.
The cats ranged in age from young adult to elderly.
There was one black cat, a handful of tabbies, a tortoiseshell, a long-haired ginger, and what could possibly be the ugliest Persian-hybrid I’d ever seen.
It had the characteristic squashed face of the breed, with patchy gray fur, a chunk out of one ear, and a permanent scowl of disapproval.
I captured the best image I could and wandered back over to the dogs, eyeing the Labrador longingly. He wagged his tail so hard that it shook his whole body, and I kneeled and patted him, wishing I were at a point in my life where I could take him home.
Unfortunately, our apartment didn’t allow pets, and even if it did, living in an apartment wouldn’t suit an energetic guy like this. He needed somewhere with a backyard.
“It’s just as well my wife isn’t here.”
I looked around. Coach Dunn was standing behind me, looking down at the dogs and holding the fox plushie we were debuting as the team’s mascot. It was about a foot tall and wearing a Chicago Chaos uniform, accurate down to the black band at the bottom.
“She’d want to adopt them all,” he continued. “We’ve already got two cats and a dog at home. God knows we don’t need more pets.”
I grinned at him. “Surely one more wouldn’t hurt.”
He snorted. “If you give an inch, they’ll take a mile. First, it’d be just one little old cat that isn’t long for the world, and the next minute, the place would be packed and I’d have been kicked out of my bed so they could sleep with her.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
Behind him, I saw movement, and I straightened and shielded my eyes from the sun. My heart did this weird squeeze-flutter thing when I realized one of the men approaching was Matt.
“Morning, Chelsey,” Matt said, a little too warmly for my comfort.
Austin sent him a sidelong look and then asked, “How are we doing this?”
I gestured to Viv. “That’s Viv, the shelter’s manager. You should coordinate with her and the other shelter staff to make sure each animal gets a photo with at least one player.” We didn’t want any of the poor things to be left out. “We also want plenty with our fox buddy here.”
Both men glanced at the fox, and Matt brightened. “Is that the new mascot?”
“Sure is.” Coach Dunn held it up awkwardly for them to get a better look. “Online sales will begin later this week, so fans can get one of their own to show their support.”
“Nice level of detail,” Matt said, studying the toy.
Austin nodded and made toward Viv. Matt paused for a moment, as if wanting to say something else, but then dismissed the thought and followed along behind. I watched them speak with her and checked that my camera was off, so I wasn’t wasting battery.
Other players began to arrive, and I was pleased to note that almost everyone turned up.
There was no Delacrue and no Virtanen—the latter had put in an apology ahead of time which, while vague, had appeased Coach Dunn.
The former was displaying yet another instance of problematic behavior.
Hopefully, someone had made a note of it.
I expected that I’d need to explain what was happening, but to my surprise, Austin and Matt spoke to the other players and outlined how things were going to work, then Austin remained with Viv, coordinating others, while Matt went to speak with one of the other shelter workers, a woman perhaps a few years younger than us.
A burst of laughter drew my attention over to where Jesse was rolling around on the ground with the Labrador cross licking his face.
He scratched behind the dog’s ear and its back leg started twitching.
It was clearly in ecstasy. I smiled, the sight warming me as I started the camera, raised it, and took a brilliant photograph of him beaming down at the wriggly dog.
Right. The players were all getting acquainted with animals, which meant I needed to do my part too. I circulated around, taking candid photographs of the players interacting with them, and then went to the tripod I’d set up and called for them to come to me for more posed photographs.
The younger shelter worker, whose name I hadn’t caught, joined me as I positioned Drew McKinley—who was, for once, not scowling—with the bulldog. As I used the camera on the tripod to capture the pair, she leaned closer and murmured, “How do you stay focused around so many hot men?”
My finger fumbled on the button and I clicked it accidentally, just as the dog nudged Drew’s cheek with its nose.
“It’s just a job,” I whispered back, doing my best to keep my expression neutral. “They’re coworkers, of a sort. We’re all employed by the team’s owner, and they deserve to be treated professionally.”
I couldn’t help glancing over at Matt, who was waiting for his turn in front of the camera with one of the terriers. He was kneeling, his entire face lighting up as it bounced around in front of him.
My heart twinged. Damn it. Why did he have to look so good with adorable animals? It wasn’t fair.
“Can you take the bulldog?” I asked the shelter worker, then stood and passed the fox plushie to Drew. “Pose with him too, please.”
Drew grimaced and held the fox awkwardly. “This is weird.”
I returned to the camera and took a couple of photos, but he was too stiff. “Could you maybe drop your shoulders a little? Try to smile?”
He bared his teeth. I think it was meant to be a smile, but holy hell, it didn’t come across well.
All of a sudden, Matt was there, taking the fox from Drew and smooshing it to the side of his own face, grinning at the camera.
“Like this,” he said, holding still for long enough for me to capture the moment before cradling the fox in his arms and then pretending to high-five it. “You’ve got to really get into it.”
He passed the fox back to Drew, whose movements were a bit looser as he tucked the fox under his arm and smiled more naturally. I let him off the hook as soon as I had one useable photo and waved him on, flicking Matt a quick glance as he departed.
“Thanks.”
He beamed. “No problem. We’ve all got to do our part.”