Mistletoe Bay by Marcia Evanick

answered Chase.
    â€œI can’t see.” Tucker was trying to stand on the bench.
    Coop couldn’t have Tucker blocking people’s view or falling off the bench and getting hurt. He tugged Tucker over to him and stood him in front, facing the field. “There he is,” he said, pointing to a figure running down the field.
    Sam Fischer had some impressive speed; the cornerback was barely keeping up. The quarterback faked a throw and then passed the ball to a running back, who was tackled within three yards. It wasn’t a bad play, but if the linemen could have protected the quarterback for a few seconds longer, Sam would have beaten the cornerback and have been wide open.
    â€œHow come Sam didn’t get the ball?” asked Chase.
    â€œWhere’s he now?” asked Tucker, who had lost sight of Sam as the players lined back up.
    â€œMaybe this time—watch.” Coop pointed to a far end of the field. “He’s over there again, Tucker.”
    This time the linemen gave the quarterback enough time to throw the ball long. The football went right to Sam, who caught it and ran it in for a touchdown. Their side of the stadium went nuts. Chase and Tucker cheered with the crowd.
    The extra-point kick was good. The crowd and the boys cheered again.
    Jenni, still carrying Corey, hurried up the steps. “What did I miss?” She looked at her two sons, expecting an answer.
    Coop looked at Chase and Tucker, who both shrugged. “We don’t know. Everyone started to yell, so we yelled with them,” answered Chase.
    â€œSam caught the ball,” said Tucker.
    Coop started to laugh. “Sam scored a touchdown, Jenni.” The boys had absolutely no idea how the game was played.
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    Two and a half hours later, Coop helped Jenni by carrying a sleeping Tucker to her car. Her arms were already full with a zonked-out Corey. Chase was carrying a couple of blankets. Most had hot chocolate spilled all over them.
    â€œTell me again how a game that has four quarters, each consisting of fifteen minutes, lasted for nearly three hours?” She had been thrilled that Sam’s team had won, but it was nearly ten at night—way past the boys’ bedtime.
    Coop chuckled. “It has to do with Einstein’s theory of relativity.”
    She snorted and shifted Corey higher so she could take Chase’s hand. The parking lot was full, and moving cars were everywhere. A lot of them were being driven by teenagers looking to celebrate the win.
    â€œWhich way did you park?” Coop didn’t even sound out of breath, while she was desperately trying not to huff and puff. Corey wasn’t that heavy.
    â€œOver there.” She pointed to the right. “Did I thank you for taking the time and explaining the game to my boys?” Coop Armstrong was a very nice man. He not only had the patience of a saint, he hadn’t yelled and screamed at Tucker when her son spilled half his hot chocolate all over his leg. He had calmly cleaned up as best he could in the bathroom, and then he had bought her son another cup of hot chocolate.
    â€œTwice, but I don’t know how much of it sank in.” Coop glanced down at Chase, who was holding her hand. “Do you know what a touchdown is now?”
    â€œYep.” Chase nearly tripped on the end of a blanket dragging on the ground. “And the kicker kicks, and the punter punts.”
    She bit her lip to keep from laughing. That was one of the lessons Coop had taught her. Here she thought anytime a guy kicked the ball, he was just kicking. As it turned out sometimes he was punting it instead. You kick field goals, but you returned punts, and no, she had absolutely no idea what any of that meant. She was more confused now than when she and the boys had arrived three hours earlier.
    â€œWhat are the guys in the black and white stripes that blow the whistles called?” questioned Coop.
    â€œRefs,” answered