“Ya need to stay on her, Clyde!” Mrs. Woodhouse hollered at her husband. “Those youngins are getting the best of ya, and the coach is stressed about that beauty, Virginia. He can’t take his eyes off her. You shouldn’t either!”
Half the team giggled, but Ginny looked to the flustered, very non-amused man holding the whistle, who made it his mission to give directions to Ginny at practice without ever looking at her directly.
Sloan, one of Ryan and Caroline’s co-workers at Sugartree Elementary, and a fellow alumna, gave the elderly man a rub on his back. “You’re doin’ just fine, Mr. Woodhouse. Ryan’s just concerned. That’s all.”
“Yeah, I’m concerned. She’s gonna get crushed!” Ryan argued. “Maybe I should move Lake and Griff to linemen…”
Caroline put her hands on her hips and blew her hair from her eyes. “It’s flag football, Coach,” she snipped. “She’ll be fine. You’re bein’ an overbearin’ ninny.”
“You say that until she isn’t okay. She’ll get run over.” Ryan adjusted his Sugartree baseball hat, flipping it backwards—for goodness’ sakes—and looked at Ginny for the first time that night. With accusation in his eyes, Ryan pointed his finger ather. “You need to get rid of the ball faster. They can’t defend you forever.”
Ginny blew out a frustrated breath and used all her annoyance to throw the ball as hard as she could at Ryan. A perfect spiral right into his chest. “That fast enough for ya, Coach?”
He stumbled back, coughing and providing Ginny no small pleasure at his response. Lake turned to her and offered a silent fist bump.
“Oooooo weeeeee!” Blaire yelled from the sidelines into the megaphone she’d had glued to her hands at every practice. “Did y’all all see that?!”
Evan chuckled at his wife, but Ryan glared at her, rubbing his chest.
“You alright, son?” Mr. Woodhouse asked, putting a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “That Virginia has quite the arm on her. She’s somethin’ else.”
“Umm… yeah, she sure is,” Ryan coughed again and let his eyes dart to Ginny’s before regrouping. “That’ll be fine, Gin. Line it up again, y’all. Woodhouse. Lake. You’re on the line. Sloan you’re center, and then you’re on your sister, alright?” He pointed at Sloan’s twin, Shane, who had been playing defense all night and was much more aggressive than her mild-mannered sister. “The rest of y’all get open, and Ginny, get rid of the dang ball.”
He blew the whistle again and the team lined up.
“He’s mad with power,” Ginny whispered, earning snickers from the others.
Chloe, who’d jumped right into the football fray after closing up Good Start for the night, whispered at Ginny’s side, “Is it weird that I’m kinda into it? He’s like a hot Gordon Bombay.”
Ginny giggled, though she felt a twinge of discomfort pass over her. “Like, fromThe Mighty Ducks?”
“Oh yeah,” Chloe said appreciatively. “I wonder what he’d do if we all started quacking.”
“Ten bucks says he joins in,” Shane whispered, hunched in front of Ginny, ready to attack.
Sloane, ready to hike the ball, laughed quietly. “No way.”
Three voices down the line, clearly belonging to the Lovett brothers, started chanting, “Quack. Quack. Quack.”
Ryan growled and blew his whistle again. “Seriously, y’all.”
“Sorry coach,” Evan murmured as his younger brothers giggled like misbehaving school girls.
Ginny smirked at Ryan, all sweaty and agitated and definitely—as Chloe so eloquently put it—kinda hot. More thankinda. “I think I'm gonna hide his whistle.”
“I can hear you, Remillard,” Ryan yelled.
“I wasn’t tryin’ to hide it, Hood,” Ginny sing-songed right before she screamed the call, “Peaches28. Peaches28. Set, hut!”
She danced in her box, steering clear of Shane, who had fire in her eyes every time she rushed Ginny but was impressively held off by her sister. Ginny waited for the perfect moment when Georgia ran the play and got open, ready for a flawless spiral thrown to her thirty yards out. Georgia ran for the touchdown, earning the cheers of the whole team and the few spectators watching practice.
Ryan looked surprisingly pleased and called the team into a huddle at the sidelines. “Alright, good work, y’all. I think that’s as good a place as any to end it for the night. I’ll see y’all back here next week and we’ll work on alternates. Have a good one—”
Blaire cleared her throat in the megaphone, “Ahem.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “And we’re goin’ to karaoke after this if any of y’all wanna join.”
“It’s too late for my blood, son.” Mr. Woodhouse chuckled and slapped Mr. Emmerson on his back. “How ‘bout you, Lloyd?
