donuts. What would she give him next? A gift certificate for a pedicure?
She stood on the edge of the circle next to Asher for a beat, smiling at the team.
Cole drew Asher’s gaze, then nodded toward Charlotte, hoping the kid had enough sense to be a gentleman.
“Hey, Miss Page,” Asher finally said. He turned toward her and took the box. “Let me get that for you.”
“Thank you, Asher.” She smiled again as her eyes met Cole’s. When he didn’t smile back, her face fell.
But it wasn’t in his nature to smile. What was he supposed to do? Moon over her like these sex-crazed teenagers?
Bilby elbowed him—and not subtly.
Cole dug deep and found a sentence—“We, uh, weren’t expecting you”—which probably made her feel even less welcome than his stoic expression.
“But you brought donuts,” Bilby cut in, “so you’re more than welcome.”
Charlotte’s smile turned shy. “I thought you’d be wrapping up.”
“And you thought right,” Bilby said, overcompensating for Cole’s crankiness.
“I just had an idea to run by you,” Charlotte said. “All of you.”
All of them? Like the teenagers who made up his football team?
“I listen better when I’m eating,” Dunbar said with a shrug.
A chorus of agreements rang out and Charlotte’s face turned a pale shade of pink. “Sorry, maybe I should’ve asked before I filled you guys up on sugar.” Her eyes seemed to ask for Cole’s permission to open the box.
At his continued silence (what was wrong with him?), Bilby jumped in with quick reassurances. “It’s fine. They eat anything and everything, including donuts.”
Cole didn’t miss Matt’s pointed glare.
Asher opened the box and the guys dug in. When they finished, the box looked like it had been ransacked, only a few donuts remaining.
“Want one, Coach?” Asher asked.
“I’m good,” Cole said, holding up a hand, and—he was sure—coming across as a first-class jerk. He had no reason, other than unwanted thoughts about Charlotte, to be acting this way. Apparently, his vow to be a better coach ended on the field. He should probably vow to be a better human first.
Asher turned to Charlotte. “Go ahead, Miss Page—we’re all ears.”
Charlotte smiled. “You can call me Charlotte.” She wiped the palms of her hands on her shorts and Cole caught the slightest side glimpse of her triceps. The definition in her arms was impressive. It turned out, there were many impressive things about Charlotte. He knew because he’d gone home after their trip to Haven House and Googled her.
And he’d never admit that out loud in a million years.
He’d heard she was one of the best in her field, and now he’d seen it for himself.
Charlotte had been named the youngest principal dancer at the Chicago City Ballet, which further reading told him was a pretty big deal. The “principal dancer” was the star. Entire ballets had been created just for her.
Artists created with her in mind. One guy even called her his “muse.” That was a kind of influence Cole couldn’t even imagine. He read about her childhood, her professional career, her strict regimen.
One article chronicled “A Day in the Life of a Professional Ballerina,” giving him a peek into her typical schedule. The reporter must’ve followed her around for an entire day because he outlined her schedule from breakfast (two eggs with a slice of turkey bacon, a small cup of fruit with chia seeds, and some other froofy garbage Cole had never heard of) to training to fitness classes to rehearsals to physical therapy, to hair, makeup, and costumes, and then finally ending with her performance that night. Cole was exhausted just reading about it. No wonder she’d come looking for a quieter, more peaceful life.
Did Charlotte have anything in her life besides ballet?
He understood her a little better after doing a little research. Her life was solitary and regimented. She set goals and then she crushed them. Maybe she’d worn herself out in the process. All of a sudden, her starting over in Harbor Pointe made a lot more sense.
He didn’t stop with the one article, he was embarrassed to remember. He read what her critics wrote about her. He clicked links to YouTube videos of her performances and watched them all—one right after the other.
Charlotte in a red tutu number with bright red lips and a wild red headpiece. Charlotte in a white dance costume encircled by a sparkling white tutu. Charlotte in a blue and white dress playing the title role in a ballet production of Romeo and Juliet.
She defied gravity. She made it look easy, the