SILAS
My first full week in Wood Hollow passed in an easy rhythm. I jogged along the footpaths by the lake and sometimes veered up the hill into town to grab a latte or something to eat at the diner. I ran into a lot of the same folks and learned a little something new on each visit.
For example, Rise and Grind was the first “chain” business in the Four Forest area and was owned by an Elmwood native and his hockey-star husband. Log Cabin Diner was the oldest restaurant in Wood Hollow, built in 1894, and had in fact, been the only one until Mike and Sam’s Pizza opened in the fifties. Oh…and the mill dated back to the mid-1800s. The loggers from that era lived in crudely made cabins subsidized by the mill while their families lived in Elmwood and Fallbrook. None of them would have been able to afford Pinecrest.
“Snotty dickwads,” Beau the burly logger huffed, wiping foam from his mustache as he stole a peek at Davey behind the counter at the coffee shop. “Pinecrest sucks. I’d never go that way if I didn’t have to.”
“Beau’s mom married the mayor. Poor guy has to suffer through porterhouse steak and lobster dinner once a week with the fam,” his buddy, Lyle teased. “Must be rough.”
Beau’s growl was fierce as fuck, but Lyle just laughed and connected a few more dots for me. Mandy, the clerk at the market, had dated Beau in high school and had eventually married Lyle’s brother, Casey, whose family-owned Fox’s Drug Store. No one was sure why she wasn’t working for them, and Mandy wouldn’t say. They thought it might have been because old Mr. Fox was notoriously stingy and didn’t pay well.
I had no idea who half of these people were, but I was fascinated by the tough-looking dudes spilling town secrets like a posse of old church ladies. They introduced me to fellow loggers, like Niall and Micah, and Ted and Colin. One of them always seemed to know the special at the diner or Dex’s donut of the day. If they didn’t, Davey did.
“Clancy let me sample the chicken parmesan she’s serving for lunch. Top marks. Highly recommend!”
I was charmed by the cadence of small-town life, and pleased to have been included to some degree. I knew my NFL celebrity status probably had something to do with their generosity, but I didn’t mind. It was better than the calculated overeager attentions of Hollywood hopefuls who approached every new introduction as if it were a potential business meeting.
As far as I could tell, the only thing anyone in Wood Hollow wanted from me was an appearance on opening day of their flag football season. I could do that. Happily.
“We start at ten a.m. on Saturday,” Dex reminded me. “I’ll make a quick speech to welcome everyone, then I’ll introduce you. Not to put you on the spot, but it would be great if you could say a few words about the sport. No pressure, though. We’ll have an exhibition game with the coaches from the Four Forest area and if you’re up for playing, I’m calling dibs to put you on Wood Hollow’s team. Again, no pressure. Just having you there will be an honor, man.”
I mean…how could I say no?
Cooper’s kids agreed.
Chase whooped and Ivy broke into an impromptu dance she finished off with a cartwheel. Their reaction alone made me feel like a fucking superhero.
“The little things matter,” Cooper commented sagely, watching as his kids raced into the house to get the football. “Grand gestures are nice, but showing up is what really counts. All you’d have to do is wave from the sidelines, and you’ll make everyone’s day.”
“And if I play some flag football?”
Cooper’s grin was slow-moving and sexy as fuck. “You’ll be a Wood Hollow legend.”
Hell, yes, I wanted to be a legend. Especially if my reward was a lazy, indulgent grin from my lumberjack neighbor.
I was pretty shameless when it came to Cooper. Our time together was limited while he was on dad duty. There were no sleepovers or casual evenings spent with our legs tangled on the sofa. Cooper worked a full day, carpooled like a boss between Fallbrook and Wood Hollow to schlep his kids to school, prepared dinner, and made sure their homework got done.
There was no time for extracurricular hanky-panky, but I was a greedy fuck, willing to take whatever crumbs were leftover. My currency…football.
I listened for his truck at the end of the day and lurked on the front porch, ready with a friendly wave. I could count on Chase to slink between the trees with a ball in hand, wondering if I wanted to play catch.
Abso-fuckin’-lutely.
Cooper’s backyard was well-lit, so we’d end up there, with me tossing the football to Chase and Ivy and coaching them on their form and follow-through.
“Bring your elbow up and step into the throw. Your power is coming from your whole body, not just your arm. Rotate your hips. Yep…like that.”
Much to Chase’s dismay, Ivy was more accurate, but Chase was a better runner. Not a smart runner, though.
“Football is a game of forward progress, Chase-man. Your opponent can’t tackle you in flag football, but if they take your flags, you’re done for. So…run smart. A little slide and shuffle, a little spin motion. You know what I’m talking about.”
Cooper brought some cones out and helped with a few drills. He let them invite a few of their Wood Hollow buddies to join us. I met Cooper’s best friend, Reg, and his kids: Rhys, a gangly nine-year-old with a mop of brown curls and freckles and his daughter, Greta, a petite version of her older brother.
I should have been totally out of my element, but the kids were funny and for some reason, they liked me. I tossed the ball till my arm ached, then got smart and designed a few plays and watched them do the hard work.
Reg clapped my shoulder and guffawed. “It took you long enough. They’ve been running you ragged for an hour, man.”
I huffed with faux irritation and spent the next fifteen minutes trying to get a read on the local police chief who ruined his stern, serious cop energy with a contagious belly laugh and had a habit of dropping silly one-liners that were basically just bad dad jokes.
