I studied the boy. “You’re Chase. Cooper’s son.”
A.k.a. my boss’s kid.
“My dad is the police chief,” Rhys piped in.
Great. I clearly hadn’t thought this through.
Chase grinned. “My dad can make stuff out of wood too, but I don’t think he could make a boat. I’ll ask him.”
I gave a thumbs-up and gestured to the four kids hanging around me—Chase, Rhys, Elliot, and a girl named Ariana. “You should pass to each other.”
Ariana raised her hand. She was petite with brown skin and long, dark, braided hair. “Don’t we need to learn defense if you’re the defense coach?”
I scratched my nape. “Screen, block, tackle.”
Ariana raised her hand again. “We can’t tackle.”
“I wish we could,” Chase lamented.
“Me too,” the other boys chimed in.
I considered googling flag football defense but decided it was a bad look—even with preteens. I’d have to wing it.
“I know you can’t tackle. You pull flags, intercept passes, and do what it takes to stop the other team from scoring.”
“We know that already,” Ariana said.
“Okay, okay. Let’s try intercepting. Take turns throwing to me and the rest of you try to take it away.”
“So…you want us to play take away…from each other or from you?”
“He can’t run. He has jeans on.”
“And boots.”
I furrowed my brow and glanced down at my feet. “I can run.”
And that was how I found myself wearing flags attached to a Velcro belt that barely fit around my waist while dodging grabby hands. There was no finesse, no real teaching moments. I simply had no other ideas.
Judging from their unfettered laughter, I thought I might be doing all right. The kids weren’t the only ones laughing. I had to look ridiculous. A giant logger being chased by a posse of littlepeople. I’d created a melee. Dexter and Troy halted their drills to watch me twist out of reach over and over. They joined the fray in a coaches versus players keep-away while the parents cheered on the sidelines.
By the time the whistle blew, I was a sweaty mess. I panted as if I’d just finished a marathon…in my jeans. My shirt stuck to my back, my pits were stained, and I’d never been thirstier in my life. I took the water bottle Dexter tossed at me and chugged it.
“Nice job out there.” Troy punched my biceps. “I think you’re their new favorite.”
I grunted, gamely slapping high fives with the kids at the end of practice.
“Hi! I’m Marta, Ariana’s mom. Thanks for helping Dex and Troy out today. They were having a lot of fun out there.” The pretty brunet shook my hand vigorously.
“Hey, Big V! You were great out there, man.”
“Thanks.” I fist-bumped my fellow loggers, Kirby and Jay. They were a middle-aged, relentlessly friendly duo who kept the equipment at the mill in working order. They sort of resembled salt and pepper shakers—both were thick and stocky, but Kirby’s hair and beard were gray while Jay’s was jet black. Apparently, they were big flag football fans, too.
“I’m calling you out, Thor. You’re joining our team. We could use you,” Kirby enthused.
“Yep! No more hiding.” Jay punched my biceps lightly. “We’re talking about this Monday.”
That wasn’t happening.
