Midnight Oil. Karen Kendall

their way to find an excuse to call him or see him again. And these were women with whom he didn’t have anything in common, like football and a relationship with his nieces and admiration for Dan Marino.

      On Tuesday he drove the Lotus to the practice field, where it wasn’t hard to spot twenty-seven prepubescent girls running around in pink jerseys.

      Peggy wore a faded pink T-shirt that hung loosely over her breasts and gray athletic shorts, her hair pulled into a ponytail and then threaded through a white baseball cap. Her muscular legs were covered with ginger freckles and her small feet laced into top-of-the-line cross-trainers.

      “Hi, Peggy,” he said, the sight of her making him feel like a horny caveman. Hmm, that ponytail was the perfect instrument for dragging the woman off to his cave and having his wicked way with her. Here, ugg, ugg. Let me show you my big club….

      She whirled and stared at him, her expression unreadable behind mirrored sunglasses. Her lips parted. “Hi.” She tugged at the brim of her hat and crossed her legs one behind the other, as if self-conscious about them. “I didn’t, um, expect to see you here.”

      He smiled at her. “Oh, I just wanted to check on the twins. See you gals in action.”

      Danni spied him then, and came rushing over. “Uncle Troy!” She launched herself at him and gave him a bear hug, hitting him in the solar plexus.

      “Oooof. Hey, Danni-girl! How ya doing?” She smelled of laundry detergent and grass and sunshine. So did Laura, who almost tripped over the last tire in the agility exercise and sprinted over to hug him, too.

      His sister Samantha wasn’t there; they’d come with an after-school carpool. But several mommy heads turned, sending admiring glances his way.

      “This is our uncle,” said Laura to Peggy. “He used to play for the Jacksonville Jaguars, and he’s going to be coaching our punk little brother’s Pop Warner team.” Laura’s eyes narrowed accusingly as she said this. “How come you’re not coaching us?”

      Whew, nothing like a little sibling rivalry to make things uncomfortable. Troy said calmly, “Because you already have a great coach in Miss Underwood, and Mr. Vargas needs someone to step in for him.”

      Peggy handled things beautifully. She winked at the girls. “Really,” she mock-whispered behind her hand, “it’s because your brother and the boys need the professional help. You girls are at the top of your game.”

      Danni laughed. “Yeah, the boys are pretty lame. I can kick a longer field goal than Derek can, and he knows it.”

      Troy didn’t like the fact that she was right, since most of the girls were more developed at this age than the boys. His competitive streak reared its ugly head. I’ll be changing that, ladies. You can bet on it.

      Peggy nodded. “Okay, girls, get back out on the field. I need two more laps from each of you, and then we’ll practice tackling and blocking before we play.”

      “Yes, ma’am.” And the twins were off and running, leaving Troy and Peggy by themselves.

      “So, you’re awfully booked up for the next two weeks at the spa,” he said casually.

      She pressed a button on the stopwatch she wore on a cord around her neck and then turned to face him with a passable imitation of sincere regret. “I know, isn’t it crazy? Everyone and her dog coming in for seaweed wraps and cellulite treatments.” She shrugged as if to say, “What’re you gonna do?”