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“Oh.” Jim looked at the other parents assembled. “Anyone else know how to play soccer? Anyone?”
Blank looks all around.
One woman held up a hand. “I have a cousin who played. I can ask him if he’ll be willing to help.”
Jim snapped his fingers. “Good. That will work.”
“Are we going to play today?” one of the other girls asked, bouncing a pink-and-black soccer ball. “I got a new ball.”
“Uh, sure,” Jim said, unclipping forms from his clipboard while balancing on one foot. One of the mothers had pity on him and helped to pass out the paperwork. “If you will fill these out, make the check payable to the organization, and then I’ll turn all the registrations in at one time to the league.”
He then turned and blew his whistle. Tess sank onto the bleacher feeling both guilt and relief. Graham and the other parents set about filling out forms. Jim hobbled around and tried to instruct the kids. Good-natured? Check. Determined? Check. Good coach? Uh, not a chance.
Tess stood. The least she could do was teach him a couple of warm-up drills that would focus the frolicking kidlets and work on their eye-foot coordination.
“Hey, Jim,” she called, approaching the area where the kids basically wrestled with each other in line. “I’ll give you a little help today.”
The man literally looked as if he would hug her. “Thank you…”
“Tess,” she supplied for him, waving the kids over to form a circle around her. “I’ve played soccer for as long as I can remember, so I’ve got a lot of great warm-ups you can use.”
Tess kicked off her ballet flats, the cool grass heavenly beneath her toes, and split the group into teams, showing them a simple relay drill that would keep them all busy.
Graham jogged over. “You got roped into bringing Emily. You shouldn’t have to do this.”
Tess gestured to Jim who had sunk onto the bleachers, gathering the paperwork. “He can’t do this.”
Graham looked over at Jim. “No, he can’t, so you’ll have to show me these drills, and I’ll sign on as the assistant coach. I can’t have the team fall apart. I need Emily out here in the fresh air, running, kicking and participating in something besides Playhouse Disney.”
Tess looked around at the other girls smiling and laughing as they worked the balls around the cones. She remembered that feeling of working together as a team, sweat rolling down her back, eyes on the goal at the end of the field. She’d always had good coaches—men and women who’d sacrificed their personal time to help kids learn the sport. Maybe this was an opportunity for her to give back… and spend more time with the new sexy assistant coach.
Strike that, moron. It’s for the kids.
“Tell Jim I’ll help out. It’s the least I can do to insure these girls get to play and learn the sport the right way,” Tess said before she could talk herself out of it.
“Really?” Graham looked over at her, his expression slightly guarded, slightly hopeful. Damn, the way that man looked at her made her shivery.
“Sure. I’ve never coached, but it can’t be too hard.”
An hour later, Tess wanted to eat those words. She’d never worked with a group of seven-year-olds, and it was, well, challenging. They squabbled, they dawdled, they tripped, they cried, and they had to be soothed with overly kind words. But still, even with all those challenges, Tess enjoyed teaching the fundamentals to the girls. Coaching them felt like the right thing to do, especially when at the end of practice Emily wrapped her arms around Tess’s legs and hugged her.
“Thank you, Tess. You’re the bestest coach ever.”
Tess patted the child’s back. “I’m not sure about that, but you’re welcome.”
Emily looked up, her eyes bright, her chubby little cheeks flushed from the last running drill. “You’ll come on Thursday won’t you?”
Tess looked up and caught Graham’s eye, and in that moment, Tess knew there was no other place she’d rather be on Thursday afternoon. Except maybe Disney World. She had a thing for the Mouse and the rock-n-roller coaster. Or maybe Tahiti. Those beaches looked heavenly. “Of course. I’m going to help Coach Jim this season.”
“Yay!” Emily crowed.
Jim walked over and extended his hand, but since it caused him to lurch sideways, Tess waved it away. “Did I just hear right? Are you going to come back and help out?”
“I’ll see you Thursday,” she said with a smile. “You need help, and though I’ve never planned on being a soccer coach, the job found me.”
Jim cracked a huge smile. The man was in his early fifties with thinning hair, a trim physique, and a nice smile. “Best news I’ve heard in a while. I signed up to coach because Harv Turner, who runs the league, was short on coaches. That was before I hit an infamous New Orleans pothole on a recent bike ride and learned what it feels like to tear an ACL.” He looked down at his booted foot and grimaced.
“Ouch,” Tess said, looking down at the cast before glancing back up. “I’ll try my best.”
