Coffee was easier than lunch had been. Freya’s morning sickness worried Dexter, so I found myself reading Google entries to assure him it was very normal.
“Hormones are to blame. It doesn’t last long…except in some cases. And then it can be very bad.”
“Not helping.” Dexter kicked my shin under the table.
“It’s going to be okay,” I assured him.
He didn’t move his foot. It rested against my calf, and I didn’t mind…not one bit.
It didn’t mean anything.
I liked looking at him, talking to him, and those little touches did something to my internal circuit. He made me dizzy…in a good way. Maybe. I couldn’t tell.
But we had an agenda…something special in common, a secret we weren’t ready to share. It was important to keep that in mind and not get any ideas about the donut man.
“Come with me.”
I stood at the curb with a bag of donuts and growled. “Where? What are you talking about?”
“I’ve got a group of fifteen twelve-year-olds meeting me in ten minutes, and Troy always runs late. You could stand in for him for a hot second. Pretend to be a new coach.”
I contorted my features in what I hoped was my most fierce WTF expression. A week later, Dexter apparently hadn’t given up his flag football quest. “I eat donuts. I don’t coach.”
He gave me a head-to-foot once-over and nodded. “You wouldn’t have to do anything. Just stand there looking badass, eating your fritter. But next time, you could show up dressed and ready to roll.”
“Next time? What happened to lunch? Lunch was okay.”
He chuckled. “Lunch was great, but I think we should switch it up. Like it or not, people are going to think that you and I are seeing each other.”
“No one will think that,” I scoffed.
Dexter grinned like a madman as he opened the door of his SUV. “You should see your face. Seriously, if you’re not doing anything, come with me.”
I opened my mouth, prepared to set Dexter straight.
First of all, I hadn’t been on a field in uniform in nearly two decades. Second, I didn’t know anything about preadolescents or coaching. And I didn’t appreciate being dragged along as if I had nothing better to do.
Andseeingeach other? Yeah, right. No one would ever think that.
If anything, the entire town probably thought I was infatuated with him, and maybe even stalking Dexter when it was the other way around. Okay, I was a little infatuated, buthewas stalking me.
“We could just tell the truth,” I said.
“Can’t do that till Freya’s in the clear. That’s a good two weeks from now.” Dexter slid behind the wheel. “I gotta run. Are you coming with me or…shall I text you later?”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” I stomped to the passenger’s side. I waited till he pulled into traffic to voice my true disapproval, first in Swedish and then English. “I don’t know how to fucking coach. I’m only agreeing to this because you’re fucking right. I can’t eat donuts every fucking day, and dating is a bullshit excuse that no one would believe anyway. So fine…football. Fuck football! And fuck you, too.”
Dexter barked a laugh. “You’ve got a dirty mouth, lumberjack. Crass as fuck. I like it.”
“Shut up and drive.”
CHAPTER 9
VIGGO
Dex didn’t bother disguising his amusement as he veered right at the fork in the road. “Hey, this is gonna be fun…and easy. The kids are great. They’re at the cool age where they’re actually interested in learning something. Some of them are super competitive. Sometimes too competitive, but I can relate. I was like that as a kid.” He tossed a casual glance my way. “How about you?”
“I don’t remember,” I grumbled.
