9. Viggo #2
Judging from their unfettered laughter, I thought I might be doing all right.
The kids weren’t the only ones laughing.
I had to look ridiculous. A giant logger being chased by a posse of little people.
I’d created a melee. Dexter and Troy halted their drills to watch me twist out of reach over and over.
They joined the fray in a coaches versus players keep-away while the parents cheered on the sidelines.
By the time the whistle blew, I was a sweaty mess. I panted as if I’d just finished a marathon…in my jeans. My shirt stuck to my back, my pits were stained, and I’d never been thirstier in my life. I took the water bottle Dexter tossed at me and chugged it.
“Nice job out there.” Troy punched my biceps. “I think you’re their new favorite.”
I grunted, gamely slapping high fives with the kids at the end of practice.
“Hi! I’m Marta, Ariana’s mom. Thanks for helping Dex and Troy out today. They were having a lot of fun out there.” The pretty brunet shook my hand vigorously.
“Hey, Big V! You were great out there, man.”
“Thanks.” I fist-bumped my fellow loggers, Kirby and Jay.
They were a middle-aged, relentlessly friendly duo who kept the equipment at the mill in working order.
They sort of resembled salt and pepper shakers—both were thick and stocky, but Kirby’s hair and beard were gray while Jay’s was jet black.
Apparently, they were big flag football fans, too.
“I’m calling you out, Thor. You’re joining our team. We could use you,” Kirby enthused.
“Yep! No more hiding.” Jay punched my biceps lightly. “We’re talking about this Monday.”
That wasn’t happening.
Thankfully, Dexter swooped in with an announcement regarding after-school practice next Wednesday and a game against Fallbrook next weekend.
“Put your flags in the bag and make sure you have all your belongings. The six-year-olds are next, and they need the field.”
“No need to be alarmed,” Troy chuckled. “Crista and Matt have the Pee Wee group. Time to get the weekend started. Any plans?”
I pointed at my chest. “Me? No.”
He walked slowly across the field, allowing Dexter to catch up. “You didn’t ask, but I’ve got a hot date. A pretty bartender from Elmwood. Wish me luck.”
Dexter snorted. “Do you need luck?”
“Nope. I’m very confident that I’ll be getting laid tonight. Later, boys. And thanks again, Big V. That was fun.” Troy held his fist up for me to bump. “See you next time.”
I strode beside Dexter toward the parking lot, aware of curious glances aimed in our direction. We’d been seen together having lunch, coffee, and now this. My coworkers were going to be more curious than ever on Monday morning.
“How does it feel to have an instant fan club?” Dexter asked, hiking his bag on his shoulder. “The kids loved you.”
Heat crawled up my neck and spread across my face. “I like them, too.”
Dexter beamed. “I’m glad. I think we’re on to something.”
“Hardly. You didn’t need me here, and everyone knew it.”
“Not true. Troy isn’t always reliable. He’s a busy guy. I end up running a lot of practices on my own or recruiting a parent volunteer on days he’s supposed to help. But the kids love him and if there’s a chance he’ll make it, I’m glad to have him. Troy gives my program some extra street cred.”
“How so?”
“A high school coach with a few winning seasons under his belt is a big deal here. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but Wood Hollow’s football team actually went to the state championship last year.
The Hornets have always been good—less so over the past ten years.
But Troy has revamped the program, and it’s working.
Our quarterback is playing for Purdue in the fall, and the kid who’s going to take his place is even better. ”
“That’s great.”
He aimed his key fob at his Tahoe. “It is. A lot of parents see flag football as a safe intro to the sport, and that’s cool. But what’s even cooler is that parents want to play, too. My oldest player is seventy-six, and she’s freaking amazing. I kid you not.”
“Where is she from?”
“Here, of course. Daisy Lincoln’s grandfather was one of Troy’s predecessors.
She likes to give him advice on how to run the program.
It’s the best. If you go to a Hornets game, you’ll see her hanging around the coach’s bench with a dry-erase board she uses to draw plays.
Drives Troy nuts, but Daisy’s a local legend.
What can you do?” Dexter dumped his equipment bag in the trunk, pausing to wave when someone called his name.
I slipped into the passenger seat, knocked the donuts from the console, and immediately stepped on them. “Fuck.”
Dexter pulled a yikes face as he started the engine. “Where am I taking you?”
“Home. Please.” I opened the bag of treats and offered Dexter a piece of squished pastry.
“Thanks.” He licked sugar from his fingers as he continued toward Main Street. That shouldn’t have been sexy, but it was. “Feel like going out for pancakes?”
“No.”
“C’mon. I’m buying. The triple stack is on special at Log Cabin today.” He hummed and damn, it sounded like sex. “Those pancakes might be my downfall.”
I swallowed hard. “Mine are better.”
“You think you can make better pancakes than Clancy?”
“I know I can.”
“Prove it. Make me pancakes, Big V.”
My heart thumped in my chest. Was he flirting? Was I flirting?
“Are you inviting yourself over for breakfast?”
“More like brunch at this hour, but…if you have the ingredients and you insist. Yeah. I’m hungry,” he replied breezily.
“You can’t come over today.”
Dexter snickered. “Why not? Are you sick of me?”
His voice was laced with challenge as though he were daring me to spend time with him. Ja, I think this is flirting.
“Fine. Come if you want.”
“Gee, that was the nicest invitation I’ve ever received,” he teased, grinning from ear to ear.
I shoved another bite of fritter into my mouth and grumbled some more but with zero heat.
The sweet rumble of Dexter’s laughter permeated the air, settling in the crevices of leather and chrome like an intoxicating perfume.
I gazed out the window to hide whatever my face was doing.
My lips were curling at the corners against my will, and the last thing I needed was for him to think I enjoyed his company.
Even if I did.