“He’s five,” I growl as I work to unhook Wyatt’s hair from the bolt. It’s wrapped clear around the thing. “I’m not sure how you did this, buddy.”
“I was work’n on my head bump. I kicked and jumped and…” His little shoulders shrug, and somehow the action loosens his last bit of hair from the bolt.
I work on removing his foot from the net, and when I’m done, Wyatt wraps both arms around my neck. “You’re a real hero, Aunt Maggie.”
“Thanks, Wyatt.”
He pulls back to look at me, purses his lips to the side, and nods. “I heard one time that heroes always eat ice cream after they save the day.”
I smirk, holding back a full-on laugh. “Even before dinner?”
“They eat itfordinner.” Released from his soccer net prison, he tosses his ball in the air. Jumping, both of his legs kick out in celebration, his head nods into his chest before he flicks it awkwardly up and to the side—completely missing the ball. And now, I officially know how Wyatt got into his net prison predicament.
I sigh, looking at him stuck in the net once more. “Hold on, bud. I’ve got you.”
Four
We standat the head of the tunnel, the announcer ready to call our team onto the field. Another night. Another game. And once again, Margaret McCrae is here to cause trouble.
“Careful, Lucca, you wouldn’t want that sneer to become permanent. How would you ever get another date?” Roman slaps my back.
“She’s just one ref,” Zev says at my right.
And he’s right. Just one official. One referee who seems to have it out for me.
“You’ve got this,” Callum says beside Zev.
“Of course I have this,” I say. “The question is, do you?” I peek around to Callum, pushing down my annoyance with McCrae and grinning at my friend. “Isn’t your lucky charm out of town?” I laugh, taking all the pressure off me and placing it onto my friend.
“Harsh,” Callum says. “I don’t need luck. Sure, I like it when Fran can be here, but I’m not going to?—”
“Cool it,” Zev says. “He’s just trying to get you going.”
I chuckle again. Callum is so easy toget riled.
“And to think,” Callum says, “I was going to suggest we all go out after the game.”
I smirk. “Can’t anyway. I’ve got a date.” I lift my brows, letting their minds assume what they want to.
“Of course you do,” Roman says.
“One I cannot reschedule.” I wink at my friend. Sure, I’m giving them the wrong impression, but I do have a date. Not exactly the kind they’re thinking of. But they don’t need to know that.
“Do we know her?” Roman asks.
“Nah.”
“The real question is,” Callum says, eyes on the field, “does Lucca know her? Did he meet her seven days ago? Seven hours ago? Or seven minutes ago?”
“Seven minutes,” Zev and Roman say in unison.
I laugh again. “You guys are just jealous.”
“Nope,” Cal says.
“Nuh-uh,” Zev mutters.
Roman slaps my back. “Not even a little.”
