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Pete's expression morphed into one of disbelief. I thought I saw a little steam escape from his ears. "Seriously? Are we doing this?" Pete crossed his arms, tapping his foot on the ice as if counting down the seconds. "Time's ticking, Cougar. I have a practice session to run."
Fun time was over, but the suspense was delicious, and damn did he look handsome with that pouty frown. It was time for the grand reveal.
Slowly, I reached for the mascot head. I exaggerated my movements, building anticipation as I wiggled the head from side to side before finally lifting it off. The chilly rink air hit my sweaty face, and I took a deep breath.
"It's called community outreach, Pete. Kids from Cold Pines Elementary. Ever heard of it?" I asked, my words laced with gentle sarcasm.
His eyes narrowed, sizing me up like he used to before those game-deciding face-offs. "Hoss Ricketts, as I live and breathe. Of course, it would be you in that suit."
"Good to see you too. You look...tense. New job jitters?"
His jaw clenched. "I take my job seriously, which you'll find out soon enough."
"Ah, there's that Zingara intensity. Scared the hell out of me years ago, but you're scaring these kids right now. Not a good thing.”
Pete glanced around, noticing the hushed whispers and wide-eyed stares from the little ones. He sighed as he realized he'd entered a situation without adequate preparation.
"I was unaware of the visit," he admitted grudgingly, then turned his attention to the kids. "Hey, you guys having fun?"
Timmy, a boy with a freckled face, looked up at him with skeptical eyes. "Who are you?"
"I'm Coach Pete," he said, crouching down to be on the same level. "You can call me Coach Z."
"You mean the letter Z?” Timmy's eyes widened.
“Yes, last and best letter in the alphabet,” Pete grinned, obviously relieved to be making some headway.
"Okay, Coach Z, do you know how to spin like Coach Hoss?" a girl named Lisa piped up.
Pete shot me a challenging look. "I might not have his mascot moves, but I can definitely spin."
And to back up his claim, he performed a nearly flawless turn on his skates, gaining some appreciative claps from the kids and even a few from the team. I had to admit, he still had it. He knew how to please an audience.
It was on. “Let's dial the tension back a bit," I called out, catching my breath as I shoved the cougar head under my arm. "I think it's time for a little intermission. How about a dance-off, eh?"
While Pete's brows wrinkled, I nodded at our equipment manager.
"A dance-off? You can't be serious,” he muttered.
"Oh, I'm dead serious. The team that busts a move together wins together. It’s science. Look it up."
The kids clapped their hands excitedly, already picking sides. The players even joined in. Jensen and Waller were first to throw down the gauntlet, gliding through some comical dance moves that had everyone cracking up. Pete rolled his eyes, but I caught a playful smirk, too.
"And what about you, Coach Z? Got any fancy footwork?" Timmy pointed straight at Pete.
Caught in the spotlight, he hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then he shrugged off his black parka like he was shedding his skeptical skin.
"Fine. Let's get this over with."
The players scrambled to form a circle, leaving Pete and me in the center. The equipment manager cued up some beats on the arena speakers, and the bass reverberated through the ice.
Pete started simple, a few moonwalk glides across the rink. Nice, but predictable.
My turn. I juggled the cougar head for a second before spiking it onto the ice like a football and sliding it through my legs as I pirouetted around it.
The kids hollered, and the players whooped. I watched as Pete's eyes widened in surprise. Maybe he'd underestimated how much you could do with a cougar suit and some solid core strength.
"Not bad, Hoss. But can you do this?" He went for a figure skating move, a one-footed glide that spun into a jump and ended with a perfect landing.
