23. Viggo
VIGGO
Summers in the forest reminded me of home.
The days were warm, but not stiflingly, and the evenings were cool.
Our days were longer in Sweden, of course.
I missed the extra sunshine, and I made up for it by working outdoors.
Today the temperature hovered at seventy-seven degrees. Too hot for my coworkers.
Or so they’d claimed, and yet, seven of them were milling about the bandsaw I’d been using before my lunch break.
Beau, Micah, Lyle, Dirk, Jay, Kirby, and Tony.
Most people would steer clear of this group of bearded ruffians.
One on one, they were congenial enough, but in a pack, they looked… .mean. But so did I.
I cast a menacing glare at the lot as if to prove the point to myself. “What do you want?”
“You know what,” Beau said. “I’ve been on you for months, and you’ve been dodging me like a fox. I brought reinforcements with me today ’cause we’re desperate, man.”
The others grunted in agreement.
My brow pinched in confusion. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Is this about—”
“Flag football,” Tony piped in. He was shorter than the others with reddish hair, rosy cheeks, and broad shoulders, and a permanent twinkle in his eyes. “Will got hurt, Ted’s out, and Niall’s knee is fucked. Elmwood is gonna kick our asses on Saturday if we don’t show up with fresh blood.”
“That’s you,” Micah added. “Fresh blood.”
Their collective snicker dropped them out of the sinister realm.
“Hey, did I miss a memo for a meeting?” Cooper sauntered outside, the thumb of one hand riding his belt loop, a sheaf of building plans tucked under his other arm.
“Nothing like that.” Lyle explained the situation while I returned to the giant log I’d been splitting into narrow planks. “We need help, and Thor is a beast. Talk some sense into him, Boss.”
Cooper hummed thoughtfully. “How dire is this situation?”
“We’ve lost our last three games and two scrimmages. This is our third time playing Elmwood this summer, and they’ve got all those hockey players. They’ll murder us. Maybe you could put in a good word with Silas and see if we could borrow one those NFL boys.”
The seven-way hopeful stare was a bit much.
I snorted as I adjusted my safety glasses. “You’re begging.”
“Not too proud to beg, Big V,” Tony groused. “We need you.”
“What about him?” I asked, hooking my thumb at Cooper.
Cooper chuckled. “They’ve already groveled. Chase has a hockey game. He’s doing the Elmwood Junior’s summer camp. Sorry about that. But maybe you wouldn’t mind steppin’ in, Big V?”
I pulled the glasses off and glowered. “I get it. This is a setup.”
“Yep,” Lyle confirmed, rocking on his heels. “I told you we were desperate.”
I grumbled in Swedish and threw my hands in the air. “Fine. I’ll do it. I’m not happy, but I’ll do it.”
They whooped, high-fived, and backslapped each other until I shooed them all away. “Okay, good-bye now. See you later.”
Lyle grinned. “Yup! Practice tomorrow after work. Thanks, Thor.”
Practice? Fuck.
“You’re playing this weekend?” Dexter’s smile was the first he’d given since he’d come by to help with the crib.
Not that he was gloomy. More like…pensive.
“Allegedly. They ganged up on me and begged me. Even the boss.”
“They must really want you.” Dex nudged my elbow playfully.
“But why? What’s the big deal with the Elmwood game and why take a chance on someone who hasn’t played football competitively in years? And it’s not like I’m a barrel of laughs,” I added, hoping to score one from the handsome man hovering over my shoulder.
And there it was. I had to turn my face to hide my grin as Dexter hooted merrily.
“You’re funnier than you think. And it’s not a bad thing that your friends want your charming company.”
“They’re my coworkers, not my friends.”
“They can be both,” he argued, ever the optimist. “Janey’s my friend. She works for me, so I suppose I pay her for the honor, but we like and care about each other, too. Maybe the guys at the mill feel that way about you.”
I scoffed. “I don’t see why they would. I work to pay bills, and while I’m there, I try to avoid humans, not make friends with them.”
“What—are you an alien?”
“Ha. Ha. I’m a sensible person who knows you can’t trust everyone you meet.” I waggled a finger at him. “And the only reason they started poking at me is because of you.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“You forced me into coaching those kids a few months ago, and now everyone thinks I’m nice and that I like kids and that I’m good at football.” I shook my head at the audacity of it all.
Dexter sputtered, his eyes alight with humor. “I didn’t force you—I coerced you. Totally different. And quit playing the role of the cranky curmudgeon. You’re a nice, sexy beast of a man and like it or not, I think the town is on to you.”
“Take that back,” I growled.
“Which part? Nice guy or sexy beast?”
I lunged for Dex, holding him still while I tickled him mercilessly. He wriggled out of my grasp, gasping for air as he struck a fighting pose.
“Oh, boy. Are you going to punch me or tackle me?”
He snickered. “I’m going to wrestle you. C’mon, let’s see what you got, Big V.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “You’re very tough, but I could squish you like a bug. I don’t want to do that. We have a crib to finish, and who else will be my apprentice?”
Dex grinned from ear to ear. “I think that’s code for ‘You’re my friend, I like you, and I value your expert assistance on this very important project.’ ”
“Or maybe I put up with you.”
“Lies! You lust me and you know it.” He punched my shoulder lightly, flopping onto the stool beside me. “And on the off chance you hurt my feelings, you can win me over with a blowjob.”
I smiled, too charmed to deny the truth. I lusted for my new friend, I liked him more than I should have, and I valued every moment we spent together. So much so that it scared me to think of losing him. And I knew it was inevitable.
“C’mon, we have work to do.”
We returned to our respective chores—Dex sanding dowels that I then treated with a smoothing plane. He liked to have music on—anything from jazz or hip-hop or classic rock. Tonight it was Coltrane’s “My Favorite Things.”
Dex hummed, occasionally pausing to chat about Freya and baby things that were on his mind.
Freya was eighteen weeks along and had a small baby bump that endlessly fascinated Dexter.
He visited her once a week to check in with her in person.
I think he needed to physically see her body changing, as if it made the whole thing feel more real.
I usually accompanied him. It made the drive easier and yes, I wanted to make sure Freya was okay. She claimed to be better than ever. She’d been cleared to exercise within moderation, her morning sickness was long gone, and she’d recently landed a new client. Everything seemed…great.
Freya was amused by Dexter’s excitement and unsure how to behave with a grown man who wanted to talk to her belly.
“I don’t think my father did this when I was in the womb,” she’d commented to me in Swedish as Dexter spoke softly to his unborn baby.
“He’s just…very happy,” I’d replied.
Freya’s eyes had welled. “He’s going to be a great dad.”
That was a given.
Dexter was already more involved in his child’s journey into the big bad world than a lot of new fathers-to-be.
Some might think it was a bit much, but if anything, he’d calmed over the past couple of months.
He was actively interested rather than obsessed.
I was sure he thought about the baby often and how life would change, but he wasn’t consumed the way he had been in the beginning.
Or perhaps he was just…busy.
The Four Forest flag football summer league was underway. A big deal in these parts, as my coworkers had mentioned nearly every damn day. Dexter was instrumental in organizing schedules, coaches, and venues…on top of running the donut shop.
But this was Dexter. He thought selling donuts was a ho-hum endeavor anyone could do, so he offered something extraordinary, creating unique recipes every day.
His newest was something savory with sausage that sounded disgusting but was probably wonderful.
Dex couldn’t wait for me to try it. He’d worked on it with Reg’s daughter, Gretchen, a petite nine-year-old with big eyes and long brown hair that always looked like it needed to be brushed.
I’d noticed her skipping after her dad and brother on Main Street, her bright-yellow sneakers slapping the pavement and her black cape billowing in the breeze… like a free-spirited bumblebee.
Dex said she was channeling a wizard vibe and explained his weekly baking date with Gretchen who preferred honing baking skills to flag football. They called it alchemy hour…or something like that.
He didn’t seem to notice the irony of providing alternate entertainment to the program he’d spearheaded and actively promoted as being vital to the community. According to Dex, flag football breathed life into Wood Hollow.
As he’d once told me, “If you’re playing regularly or watching your friends and family, you become invested and chances are high you’ll want to invest in the high school program for scholarships and educational funding. Sports build and nourish communities. And sometimes, change lives.”
But Dex had a soft spot for the quirky girl whose passion for fantasy and science made her an outsider with the “cool” kids at school.
Tonight he was a little worried about Gretchen.
“What would you do if you were her parent?” Dex asked. “Cape or no cape?”
Ah, yes, Gretchen’s parents had voiced concern over her ubiquitous cape. They’d hoped she’d have outgrown this phase by now, but that hadn’t happened. I wasn’t sure how it came up in conversation, but I was glad to have moved on from my debut on the mill’s flag football team.
I examined the edge of the slat in my hand. “Anyone who wants to wear a cape should wear a cape. Doesn’t matter how old you are.”