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CHAPTER THREE

TO FLIRT OR NOT TO FLIRT

BOWIE

I'm always restless right after football season ends. It takes me a while to adjust to not playing, not moving as much. I work out faithfully, but it's still not the same as the adrenaline rush when we're out on the field.

Fortunately, the McGregors keep us in order. They’ve been here since Becca was six months old. They live in the cottage on our property, and Mrs. McGregor takes care of Becca. She worked as an occupational therapist for years and is great with Becca. She drops her off at school and picks her up when I'm not able to. And Mr. McGregor takes care of my property. We live on Silver Hills Lake, the same lake that the guys live on, and when Mr. McGregor is done for the day, I often see him fishing off of our lake. They’ve been a godsend.

Becca needs routine and consistency. She has a lot of energy. When she was a baby, Becca traveled with me, along with a nanny. My coaches have made an exception with me as far as that goes. It’s rare for a player to travel with his family. But since Becca started school, she’s stayed home and it’s been better for her. She doesn’t like it when I travel, but she’s gotten used to it.

The McGregors are in their early sixties but look about fifty and have an energy that matches Becca’s. Hopefully they'll be around for a long time.

My parents live in Denver, and I can't say that they've ever been much help.

My friends and their kids help as much, if not more, than those I’ve hired. It seems like they have a sense for when I need a break and Weston and Sadie will ask if Becca can come over, or Henley and Tru will take Becca on an outing with the girls. Becca and I went glamping with Rhodes and Elle before he and Elle were even dating, and Penn and Sam come over often to swim in our indoor pool with Becca, which wears her out in the best way.

Becca and I walk into Luminary Coffeehouse early Saturday morning, and the first customers I see are Marv and Walter. They're even grumblier than me and didn't appreciate that we didn't win the Super Bowl this year.

“Mr. Fox,” Walter growls. “Not much of a fox, if you ask me. Not very quick on his feet this year.”

I don’t think he cares that he said that loud enough for everyone to hear. He and Marv always have a complaint to lodge. It doesn't matter that the Mustangs won three Super Bowls in a row. This year, we were on a losing streak. We only turned it around at the end of the season, but not enough to get us there.

“Hey, Marv. Hey, Walter,” I say.

“Hey, Marv. Hey, Walter,” Becca repeats after me.

“Good morning, Becca!” Walter says, smiling cheerfully.

“How are you doing this morning, Becca?” Marv asks.

“I doing good. How are you?” she asks.

“Can’t complain,” Marv says.

“Me either,” Walter adds.

I snort. All these old men do is complain. I can’t dislike them though—they always manage to pull out the sweetness for Becca. It’s the only time I ever see them sweet.

We go to the counter and Clara's there, smiling. She owns the coffee shop and I’m not sure she ever goes home. She’s great, dotes on the guys and me and all our kids. We have our meeting here regularly in a room in the back.

“This is a great way to start my Saturday morning,” she says. “You guys are up bright and early. Just you two this morning?”

“Morning, Clara. Yeah, just us. We couldn't sleep this morning. I'm not sure why,” I say, looking at Becca.

She grins up at me. “I not tired,” she says happily. And then she gasps. “Poppy!”

Oh no.

I turn and see Poppy Keane grinning back at us. Her cheeks are rosy on this chilly morning and she’s wearing a blue shirt, leggings, and a vest that all match her eyes perfectly.

“Good to see you both,” she says.

“Poppy! I wanted to see you,” Becca says.

She goes to hug Poppy and I put my hand on Becca’s shoulder.

“We hardly know Poppy, Becca. Remember, we don’t hug people we don’t know well?”

“She my best friend!”

“You sure know how to make me feel good, Becca.” Poppy holds up her hand. “High-five?”

I give Poppy a grateful look as Becca slaps her hand happily. It’s important to me that I teach Becca boundaries, not just for the sake of other people, but for her own safety when I’m not with her.

“Do you guys come here often?” Poppy asks.

“Yes.” Becca nods. “I'm happy you find us.”

Poppy’s smile grows and her eyes cut over to me quickly before she turns back to Becca. “I’m happy about that too. What a nice surprise,” she says.

We step out of the way, and she places her order.

“Sit with us!” Becca says.

I try not to groan out loud. For some reason, Becca is all about this woman. She seems nice enough, but I’d hoped to spend time with my girl this morning, not a stranger.

“Well…sure, if that's okay with your dad.” Poppy turns to look at me.

I pause and when I speak, it’s not the warmest. “All right.”

Poppy gives me a sharp look, her smile faltering somewhat, and I try to soften my next words.

“Sure. Join us.”

We wait for our drinks and breakfast sandwiches, and when Clara hands them over, we go to Becca's favorite table. It's by the fireplace in the back.

“Elle says you flirt with my dad, but my dad says no, you did not. ”

Wow, Becca is getting really good at retaining what she hears. We’ve worked with various speech and language therapists and occupational therapists over the years who have widened Becca’s communication skills, but she still surprises me with the leaps she’s made. We didn’t have enough help in the beginning and unfortunately some of the things the doctors said initially left me with little hope that she’d be as communicative as she is.

So while I’m proud of her right now, I also want to dig a hole and fall into it. I didn’t think I was capable of being embarrassed, but I guess in front of a beautiful woman, it can happen.

Poppy's cheeks turn pinker than they already were, and her eyes fly to mine, wide.

“Um, I wasn't flirting,” she says. “I was just being friendly.”

“I like flirting,” Becca says. “I flirt too.”

“Not exactly,” I say quietly.

“You flirt too, Daddy.”

“No. No, I don’t flirt.”

Poppy laughs and takes a sip of her drink, fanning her face.

“Flirt with Poppy, Daddy.”

“Flirting is when you pay extra attention to someone you have a crush on and like lots and lots,” Poppy says. She puts her hands on her cheeks and looks at me, laughing. “So, no, your dad doesn’t want to flirt with me.” Under her breath she adds, “She’s putting it all out there this morning.”

“It’s the way she rolls,” I say.

“ Oh , I crush on Sam and Penn,” Becca says, looking at me.

I sigh. I’m so not ready for my daughter to like boys.

“Yeah, like that,” I say, quietly .

Becca nods. “I flirt like Poppy does with my daddy,” she says.

She puts her hands on her cheeks and looks at me, much the same way Poppy did, and my lips twitch from trying not to laugh.

Poppy laughs outright. “You don’t miss anything, do you, Becca?”

So, was Poppy flirting with me? Shit. I have no idea.

We both avoid looking at each other.

“I miss Dad when he not here. When he play football, I miss him. When I not see you, I miss you, Poppy.” Becca takes a long sip of her drink. “I miss my mom. She not here. I see her when I a baby, but I not…” She shakes her head.

God, she’s going to tell our whole life story here in the coffee shop.

Poppy’s eyes soften and she gives Becca a warm smile. “I missed you too. We hit it off right away, didn’t we?”

“Yes. Best friends,” Becca says.

Thankfully she jumps to another subject, but my joy is short-lived.

“You play lots of fun things at work,” she says.

“Yes, I have,” Poppy says. “We went ice skating this week, and on Monday, we're having a flag football game between all the kids and the staff.”

“I love flag football,” Becca says.

She looks at me and I know she’s thrown off by the word flag with football.

Poppy smiles. “It's really fun.”

Poppy is not doing me any favors in this conversation. If I had any hope of avoiding taking Becca to Briar Hill, it’s shot out the window now.

“Flag football is what we’ve played at Friendsgiving, when the weather's not too bad,” I tell Becca .

“Oh, I love that game,” Becca says. “I good because I run fast.”

“I remember that,” Poppy says, laughing.

“I play flag football with Poppy,” Becca says.

“We have plans after school, remember? Wedding stuff.”

Becca gasps. “I a princess!”

Poppy’s eyebrows lift. “That sounds way more fun than flag football.”

“My dress. I am beautiful,” Becca says proudly.

I need to get Becca out of here or she’s going to be inviting her to the house next. I stand abruptly and both of them turn to look at me.

“We need to go. Have a good day.” I nod curtly at Poppy and she looks confused as she stares up at me. “Come on, Becca.”

“We stay here,” Becca says, her brow furrowing at me.

She folds her arms and starts to pout.

This doesn’t bode well for me and can only mean I’m in for a showdown.

I pick up our plates and walk them to the counter, careful to delegate the barely-there bread to the trash, and the plates to the cleaning bucket. I’ll likely need both hands to help move Becca out of here.

When I turn back around, Poppy is quietly talking to Becca. I can’t make out what she’s saying, but I watch as Becca smiles at Poppy. I return to the table, grateful for whatever Poppy said to Becca to turn things around.

“We have to go, Becca,” I repeat.

“I see you soon, Poppy,” Becca says, leaning over to hug Poppy.

“That sounds great,” Poppy says. “Enjoy your Saturday.”

I nod at her and we walk away.

“We flirt, Daddy,” Becca says .

“No, I don’t think so.”

“No, I don’t think so,” she repeats.

I wouldn’t trade the whole world for my daughter, but she’s more than most women can handle. Just one of the many reasons I don’t bother dating. No one is more important to me than her.