She found it easy to stand there looking up at him mindlessly, simply returning his smile, savoring the heat in his gaze. He probably looked at every woman in that very manner. Likely practiced that charm in front of a mirror for hours.
“Are they ready for me?” He had the most adorable crooked smile.
“Who?” she asked.
“The soccer team.”
Bradford’s audible groan pulled Angelina back to reality—the one where her son needed her and nothing mattered more than that. “They’re in different classes, but I’ll call them to assemble in the gym.”
“Here is fine,” he said, referencing the grassy area with picnic-style tables. “Let’s keep it casual.”
I’m sure he says that a lot. “Of course. I’ll gather them up and be right back. Can I get you anything? A bottle of water? Anything?”
“All set,” he assured her.
“Okay, so plan to start in about fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll be here.” His smile promised that and so much more.
Angelina spun on her heel and strode back to the main building. The farther she got from him, the easier it was to focus. By the time she was in the office asking the secretary to call the soccer team for an assembly, she was able to laugh at her own strong reaction to Connor.
After making the announcement over the intercom, the woman said, “I’m so jealous. Mrs. Tellier was in here earlier. She said Connor Sutton is even sexier in person than he is on the big screen. Is he?”
“He’s good-looking,” Angelina agreed. She didn’t want to think about his attributes, though. She needed to remind herself about all the reasons why following him right back to his car and home was not an option. “If you’re into that type. I’m not. Someone like that is fun to watch in a movie, but can you imagine how disappointing it would be to date him? First of all, he’s not the intellectual, caring doctor he played in the movie. He’s just another highly paid actor with a huge ego who thinks . . .”
The look of horror on the secretary’s face stopped Angelina midsentence.
“Is he behind me?” Angelina asked in strangled voice.
“I am.” His tone was cold as ice. “I thought I’d take you up on that bottle of water.”
She turned slowly, with a grimace on her face, but was saved from having to say anything by the arrival of the soccer team. She wished she’d had a moment to apologize, but all warmth was gone from his expression, and she had a feeling it wouldn’t have been well received.
Looking as flustered as Angelina felt, the secretary leaned over the counter and offered Connor a bottle of water. “This one is even chilled, Mr. Sutton.”
“Thank you,” Connor said smoothly, bestowing a smile on her that brought a flush to the secretary’s face.
He’s not that good-looking, Angelina thought with irritation. She asked the soccer team to head outside and meet them at the picnic tables. Happy to simply be out of class, they made their way without protest.
This time Connor held the door open for Angelina . . . but he didn’t meet her gaze as she walked past him. She felt horrible. “Mr. Sutton—”
“Don’t,” he said abruptly.
Don’t what? Apologize? Lust after you?
Make an idiot out of myself while pretending not to?
Something had to be said. “I was out of line.”
He shrugged. “You didn’t say anything that’s not true. I’m not the character I played in Danger Doubled.”
Once outside there were too many students within earshot for them to continue the conversation, so Angelina fell silently into step with him. A moment later they were standing next to five tables of fourth- and fifth-grade boys.
Bradford stood off to the side beneath the shade of a tree.
Angelina glanced at Connor, but he was once again wearing his sunglasses, and he looked as closed off as when she’d first met him. Me and my big mouth. I’m lucky he decided to stick around. No one would have blamed him for leaving after hearing me.
She turned back to the students. “Mr. Sutton is here by request of the drama department, but I thought you’d also like to meet him.” Most of the boys looked excited—even Keaton, and he was normally too cool to look excited about much. “Thank you, Mr. Sutton. Kids, let’s give him a warm welcome.”
The boys clapped enthusiastically. The gratitude in her voice was sincere. What he was about to say might directly affect her son’s academic future at Reemsly. He didn’t know that, but he’d still graciously agreed to speak to a second group of children. She was disappointed with how unprofessionally she’d behaved and for what she’d said. It wasn’t his fault her brain went a little haywire around him.
A lengthy silence followed the applause. It lasted long enough that Angelina began to wonder if he was waiting for her to say something else.
She was about to, when he started.
“Soccer. I can’t say I know a whole lot about it beyond that it’s not football.” His joke fell flat. He visibly tensed as he seemed to sense it as well.
The coach joined the group, choosing to stand behind the table that was full of all of the star players. He didn’t apologize for being late nor did he look pleased to see his team gathered.
Connor removed his mirrored glasses and pocketed them in his jacket, then scanned the group. She wanted to shake him and tell him to say something.
He finally did. “A team is a team, though. Mr. Billings, my old coach, used to say there is no I in team unless you write the word in block letters and then you’ll find it right there in the A’s hole. Only he said it a little cruder than that.”
A few of the boys high-fived each other.
Bradford rubbed a hand over his eyes and the coach frowned.
Where was the smooth speaker from the stage? This man seemed far less relaxed, and Angelina was beginning to regret asking him to do this, especially as a few teachers arrived and one began filming with her phone.
“I could talk to you about how football taught me how to work with people. I could tell you that soccer will probably do the same for you.” Connor pocketed his hands and looked up at the sky for a moment before continuing. “I’d rather tell you a more personal story.”
Angelina closed her eyes briefly and prayed it was one that was appropriate for the children to hear. Please. I said something stupid, but this is for Whitney. Please let it go well.
Connor loosened his tie. “I wasn’t born this size. I remember what it was like to be small. So small I was pushed around.” He walked over and stood next to the smallest member on the soccer team who was sitting off by himself. “Looked over. Never chosen first for any team.”
He moved to stand next to another table. “I had a late growth spurt. I was so small that when I was in third grade my little sister had to come to my recess to deal with the boy who was making it so I didn’t want to go to school anymore. I’ll repeat that part in case you didn’t hear me. My little sister, a first grader at the time, came to my recess and faced down a boy who’d made third grade a living hell for me.”
Some of the boys laughed. Some remained politely quiet.
Keaton made a joke to the other boys at his table who laughed along with him. The coach didn’t discourage them.