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Wait, what did he say?
“Did you just ask me on a date?” I stalled getting out of the car.
“Yes, we need to talk about the other day, so I’m taking you out. Be ready by seven. Now if you are going to do this, you better get going.” He urged me on.
I decided to leave my purse in the car so I could use my hands for delivering the baked goods.
Boxes filled my hands, making it difficult to close my car door. Fortunately, one of the football players chose that moment to arrive.
“Let me help with that,” said the teen, his golden skin glowing in the late fall sun.
“Thank you.” I smiled at him as he helped me out. He shut the door, then reached out to take a few boxes from my stack. “I appreciate it,” I told him truthfully. The boxes were heavy, and I didn’t want to accidentally drop everything.
I lifted a hand, readying myself to knock on the door when it opened, Coach Ramstrom stepping out of the house.
The man was just as I remembered him. Five eight, five nine tops. His hair severely thinning despite his relatively young age. A few extra pounds sat like a tire around his belly. He resembled a greasy car salesman more than a head coach of a winning small-town football team.
“I thought I heard someone out here.”
Coach Ramstrom instantly gave me the creeps. His beady little eyes looked me up and down, making me wish I could pull my coat tighter around myself.
Finally, he stepped back, holding the door open so that me and the young man to my left could enter the house.
“You must be the cookie lady. Follow me,” he said in a gruff voice. We did, me pushing my shoulders back just a little at the command. I glanced over to my student helper who just gave me a look that said,yeah, he’s always like this. I stifled a laugh, then tried to pay attention to my surroundings.
A long hallway opened to an enormous chef’s kitchen filled with food. Pizza, chips, veggies and dip, all the makings for a great high school party.
Minus the alcohol.
I looked for space on the counter to place the boxes but found none.
“Do you mind making some room?” I asked the coach. He grunted, probably not used to anyone asking him to do something but complied. Once he pushed a few things towards the back of the counter I was able to place the boxes down.
My young helper did the same. “What’s your name?” I asked him.
He flashed me a bright smile then held out his hand. “I’m Hector.”
I shook his outstretched hand. “Thank you for your help.” Then I grabbed a cookie from one of the boxes and handed it over to him.
“You’re welcome and thanks for this!” He raised the cookie in the air then ran off to join his friends who were huddled around the dining room table, sodas in hand.
Coach Ramstrom leaned against the counter, his meaty arms bulging around him as he watched me open the top box of cupcakes.
I ignored his leering the best I could, deciding to talk to him as a distraction.
“I’m just going to set up the cupcakes for the boys, that way they can just grab and go.” I tossed my hair over my shoulder to shoot him a quick smile before getting to work.
“They really don’t need anything fancy, you could just leave the box open and call it a day,” he told me.
I laughed hesitantly. “I really want to do this for them,” I countered with a quick smile. “I’m such a football fan.”
“Whatever you say,” he muttered as his eyes dropped to my behind.
Bleh.I’d have to take a long shower when I got home. Just being in his presence, especially knowing what he’s doing to his players, made me feel next level icky.
One of the things I brought with me was a cardboard cupcake stand that folded out. It was a great, inexpensive way to show off my work. Because it never hurt to do a good job, even if I wasn’t actually a professional baker.
“What’s that for?” Coach asked me. I explained it to him as I set up the different tiers, making sure to secure each level to the base. I took my good old time doing it too, just to stall.
