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 oldestplayer 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?
