After Hours: Midnight Oil / Midnight Madness / Midnight Touch

Derek nodded, but waited with bated breath. Finally Troy took pity on him. “And yes, kiddo. I’ll coach your Pop Warner team.”

Derek whooped and pumped his small fist in the air. “Yesssss!”

Troy grinned and tried to remember back to his own Little League days, but couldn’t dredge up much. He sent up a silent prayer to the big quarterback in the sky. Surely there was some kind of a coach-the-kids instruction manual out there on the Internet?

By sundown they’d laid all the new planks on the porch and secured them with screws. Troy ordered pizza for himself and Derek and then dropped the boy off with Samantha again, slipping him twenty bucks for his help.

Troy had the perfect excuse to see Peggy Underwood again Tuesday night. He’d go to Danni and Laura’s powder-puff practice, cheer them on and also gather some clues about how to handle a large group of kids himself.

Every muscle in his body ached after the day’s sweaty workout, and he wished like hell he were seeing Peggy tonight, for that hot stone massage. God, did that sound good!

He frowned, though, as he headed for the shower. Peggy wouldn’t be doing the hot stone massage—some woman named Margaret would do it, even though he’d asked for Peggy and been flexible in terms of scheduling. She’d been booked all week, according to the receptionist. No, sorry, Miss Underwood didn’t have any openings early next week, either.

Miss Underwood, he thought, had engineered things this way. And that intrigued him. Why didn’t she want him on her table again? She’d looked at his chest as if she wanted to lick it. Miss Underwood, that delectable redhead, was avoiding him. Well, not for long!

Troy wasn’t used to women avoiding him. They usually went out of 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?”

“Bathing suit season approaches,” he offered. Hmm, the thought of Peggy in a swimsuit was intriguing….

“Exactly.” Her attention diverted again to the field, she yelled, “Pick up the pace, ladies! Sprint into the homestretch!”

“So, do you go back to the spa after this?”

“Get those knees up, girls! I want to see them almost to your chests!” Peggy turned back to him and nodded. “Yeah. I just arrange to take two hours off in the afternoons on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. We schedule around it and Margaret picks up those appointments.”

“So is Margaret as cute as you?” Troy asked, deliberately baiting her.

She turned to face him, and he saw his own smirk doubled in her mirrored sunglasses. “Now, how am I supposed to answer that?”

His smile widened. “Truthfully.”

Her attention went back to the field. “Okay, walk and stretch!” Then she said to him, “Margaret is a very capable and skilled massage therapist.”

Troy chuckled. “Yeah? Good to know, but that’s not what I asked.”

Peggy said stiffly, “She’s very, uh, cute. In a manly sort of way.”

Alarm bells went off in Troy’s head. “What, does this woman have a beard? Hairy knuckles?”

“No! And by the way, your question is not appropriate. We hire people based on their qualifications, not their looks.”

“Well, here’s the thing,” Troy said. “I don’t think that this Margaret person could possibly be as qualified as you, Peggy. And as the customer, I demand top-notch service.”

She lowered her sunglasses and aimed a level look at him. “What kind of game are you playing, Barrington?”

“Game?”

“Margaret actually has two years’ more experience than I do, and I think you’ll be very happy with her services. Now, I’m sorry, but will you excuse me?” She nodded politely at him and then jogged out onto the field, blowing an earsplitting whistle and gesturing to gather the girls around her.

Troy folded his arms across his chest and admired her rear view as well as her cool. He really was starting to wonder what flavor her freckles were.

THE SALON WAS LESS CROWDED this evening without the Fab Four, but just as wacky.

“Carnations!” Nicky hissed into his cell phone. Not for the first time, Peg thought he looked like Princess Di in drag—with much louder taste. Today he wore formfitting black overalls with a teal muscle T and a wide black leather cuff on his wrist.

“Yes, the tasteless little cheapskate sent me carnations…. Can you believe it? And I took him to a nice place, too!” Nicky stamped his foot, which was expensively shod in Italian leather.

“Well, what other dating sites are out there for us? Wait, let me get a pen….”

Peg tuned him out and went up to the front desk, where she was greeted with the unwelcome news that Margaret had gone home sick.

“You can’t be serious!” Peggy stared at Shirlie and groaned. “Margaret is never sick. She can’t be, and especially not today of all days!”

Shirlie shrugged. “She is. Left an hour ago. Food poisoning from that taco place she loves. Uh, used to love. Her skin was as close to green as I’ve ever seen on a human being, and Alejandro had to drive her while she hung on to a wastebasket.”