Page 37 of Single Dad Dilemma
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Okay. Wait ... Maggie’s doing what?”
She laughed. “You should go check. Wren is having a field day with this.”
“Shit,” I muttered.
“Why are they here again? I thought the neighbor was watching them today.” She quirked a knowing brow. “Last day at the office before Christmas break, and all.”
The way our last two games were scheduled out, we had an eleven-day stretch between. Great for resting injured players. Great for giving the guys a couple days to enjoy the holidays with their family. Absolutehavoc for guys like me, who had kids out of school and couldn’t wrangle his mental stability long enough to let Lily watch them for a little bit longer.
“My parents are flying in after Christmas,” I answered gruffly, immediately cursing the defensive edge to my voice.
“Ah. It’s too bad there’s not, like, a person in your neighborhood who could help.” Without looking at me, Bridget pretended to skim the notebook in front of her. “Like, next door or something.”
“We needed to give her a break,” I said. The words came out clipped and terse.
“‘We’?” she asked slowly.
The times I’d lied to Bridget could be counted on one hand, and two of them had been about Lily Townsend. That alone should’ve scared the shit out of me.
Ineeded a break. I needed a break from her eyes and her hair and her snippy little comments. From that fucking mouth. Because that mouth ...
When I realized Bridget was waiting for me to respond, I blinked rapidly, tucking my folder underneath my arm. “Yes. She helped a lot the last week and a half.”
“And one more day was too much for her,” Bridget added. There was nothing inherently skeptical about how she said it, but I knew this woman. “You’re off tomorrow. And the next day. Like, completely, totally off, and she needed a break from watching them for one day. Am I getting that right?”
“Don’t you have work to do?” I asked her.
“Yes, I’m terribly busy and important at all times.” She sat in the big, expensive leather chair she’d requested when we started in Buffalo, then shooed me away from her desk. “Speaking of which, go find your own kids. I know you have fifteen minutes until your last meeting.”
When her chair angled smoothly in the opposite direction, I was effectively dismissed. “You know, I bet there are head coaches in this league who have executive assistants who respect them.”
“Oh. Are you still here?”
I sighed, walking to Mark’s office, where, sure enough, Bryce was studying schemes on the giant whiteboard on the far wall.
“Do you need me to remove this small human from your office?” I asked Mark.
They both turned, and I smiled. Bryce was wearing a prototype jersey about three sizes too big. “I’m helping,” my son insisted.
Mark grinned. “He’s fine.”
“Thanks, Mark.” I tapped my watch. “I’m going to find your sister; then I have one more meeting and we can go home, okay? Be ready in about forty-five, Bryce.”
He gave me a crisp salute, then turned back to the board.
The conference room where the defensive line was supposed to be meeting was empty, so, with another sigh, I turned to take off down a few more hallways. They weren’t in the locker room. Not in the weight room either.
One of my defensive backs found me standing, hands on my hips, trying to decide which direction to go next.
“Looking for a girl about this tall?” Travis asked, holding his hand up to his midsection. “Likes bossing people around?”
My mouth tugged into a reluctant grin. “Yes.”
He tilted his head down the hallway to the right, which led to the main practice field “Down there.”
“I’m scared to ask why,” I muttered, and it made him laugh. It wasn’t the typical Saturday for us, with no game on Sunday. On a normal week, we’d do walk-throughs of all the plays, gearing up for travel if it was an away game. Because of the holiday and the longer-than-usual break between games, the schedule wasn’t as grueling. A good number of the players were already home for the day after reviewing film and spending time with their coordinators. Some would’ve come in for treatment too; everyone was a little banged up by this point in the season.
This time of evening, just past dinner, there weren’t usually players on the field anymore. I made the last turn, and when I let myselfthrough the first door that led to the field, I couldn’t help but let out an incredulous laugh.
