Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“Why? What are you up to?” I growled as I held the door for an older couple. The woman blanched at my expression, and I felt bad…and extra irritated with Beau.
“Chill. It’s nothing terrible.” He took a leisurely sip of his drink and nonchalantly surveyed Main Street.
It was a beautiful spring day—not a cloud in the sky. The store awnings were crisp and clean, potted flowers and topiaries flanked freshly painted benches, and the sidewalk was crowded with window-shoppers. Summer was a mere few weeks away, and soon enough there’d be limited parking and people everywhere.
No one complained, though. Tourism had become a gold mine for Wood Hollow. Dexter told me that his donut sales more than quadrupled in summertime. Businesses like Swensen’s Ice Cream Parlor thrived even though they were only open a few months out of the year. Even Fox’s Drug Store did well, and the old man didn’t sell anything you couldn’t buy at the market or at Mill Depot.
Buzz buzz
I peeked at the caller ID. Dexter.
I couldn’t take his call with Beau lurking nearby and plotting something he knew I wouldn’t like. A poker game, a picnic or bowling with coworkers, or—
“We need you on our flag football team this summer,” Beau blurted. “And before you say no—”
“No.”
Beau followed me as I headed east toward the mill. “Ted’s out. He’s been sick with that viral thing he caught in Bermuda. And Dirk’s back is fucked up. That’s why he’s always volunteering to drive the forklift. We need new blood. Silas has a couple of buddies renting vacation homes this summer, and he thinks we might get a volunteer here and there, and that’s great. A real-life NFL player would help us kick some serious ass.”
“Already sounds like you don’t need me.”
“Yeah, we do,” he argued, waving to an older woman I’d bet was a relative or a former teacher. Beau knew everyone in this town. “See, if we have a bunch of pro football players on our team, we’re no longer the mill team. And it’s, like, embarrassing that they have enough guys to fill up a roster, and we’re borrowing their manpower. It ain’t right. We’re diluted, you know what I’m sayin’?”
I did. Dexter had told me all about it.
Apparently, flag football participation had skyrocketed to the point that each town in the Four Forest area now had multiple teams per age group. Wood Hollow had a contingent of adults between ages twenty-five to sixty who played on four different teams: coaches and staff from our elementary school and Wood Hollow High, Mill Depot, Wood Hollow Mill, and…a group of visiting NFL players who came to the area to cash in on the positive publicity generated by Silas Anderson’s involvement.
Silas was the first to acknowledge that some of the interest was partially thanks to his ex-wife being engaged to a movie star. And probably in part to him publicly coming out by kissing his now-husband on national television. Whatever the reason, there were now enough newcomers to field their own team. And they were obviously very good.
I stopped abruptly at the corner, narrowing my eyes as I sipped my latte. “Why me?”
“Because now we know that you played football in college and that you know what you’re doing. And there’s no way you could possibly run slower than Ted, so…what do you think?” Beau held a hand up. “Don’t say anything. Just think about it.”
He walked ahead of me as my cell buzzed again. I fished it out and answered.
“Hey.”
“Did she call you?” Dexter asked in lieu of a greeting.
“Ja. This is good news.” I smiled like an idiot on the middle of the sidewalk.
I glanced across the street to Dexter’s Donuts and impulsively changed direction, humming in response to his excited retelling of his conversation with Freya.
The shop was packed. Not quite as busy as Rise and Grind, but there was a line. Janey worked the register along with Meg, a pretty blond. I hovered at the entrance before continuing to the corner and cutting down the alley.
“…there’re months to go, but I’m going to tell a few people.”
“You should. By the way, I’m at your store…in the alley.”
“You are? Don’t move a muscle. I’ll be right there.”
The alley was only marginally more private at this time of day. It was empty now, but there were second-story windows, and you never knew who might pop out of their shop to throw trash away or take a cigarette break.
Dex stepped outside, wiping his hands on a frosting-stained apron. His radiant grin caught me off guard and for a moment, I just stared at him.
“I shouldn’t have come, but…ow.”
He punched my left pec, then pulled me in for an impromptu Dexter-style hug. He did this sometimes…out of the blue. However, we were usually alone. I should have pushed him away, but I didn’t. Not even when he pressed his lips to mine. And God only knew how long we stood swaying like old lovers.