Thea finished the last of the flowers on Ava’s deer face—both girls were playing the part of fawns—and packed up the rest of the paints. Just ten minutes until showtime. The teacher clapped her hands and raised her voice above the excited chatter as she asked the kids to start lining up. Which was Thea’s cue to head out to the auditorium. She wished she had lied to Gavin and said she was needed backstage during the show, because she had lost all her energy for the small talk and fake smiles that were prerequisites for appearing anywhere remotely public with Gavin. God grant her the serenity not to sucker-punch the first person who gushed about Gavin’s grand slam.
Her stomach clenched as she descended the stairs beside the stage. Her eyes swept across the throng of families looking for seats. A dozen women all wore the same annoyed expression that could only mean their husbands had been late and now they couldn’t find more than two red velvet seats together for their families. What she didn’t see was Gavin, thank God. Maybe if she hovered long enough they, too, would be unable to sit together.
Relief was short-lived, though.
“Hey.”
Jumping at the sound of his voice, she turned. Gavin stood below the staircase, smiling up at her in a thin V-neck sweater she’d never seen before. It wrapped around his muscles as if even cotton couldn’t resist him. Good thing Thea could. She’d had a shot in the butt called broken heart and was now immune to round biceps and thick forearms and the tantalizing valley between honed pecs—
Ugh. She descended the rest of the stairs. “You found seats?”
He pointed up the aisle. “Tenth row. I put my coat on it to hold the seats.”
Gavin waited for her to go first, and then he settled a hand low on her back as if they were together. Just another happy mom and dad. She discreetly moved away from his reach just as a voice rose above the cacophony.
“Hey, you’re Gavin Scott, right?”
Aaaand of course. Thea turned around, a string of unintelligible, made-up curse words flitting through her mind. A dad in jeans and a buzz cut held out his hand to Gavin, who stopped politely—as he always did for fans.
Thea pasted on her fake smile and extended her hand, as well. “Thea Scott.”
The man limply shook her fingers. How could there still be men in the world who wouldn’t shake a woman’s hand? He barely spared her a glance as he turned his attention back to Gavin.
“Tough break about that last game,” the man said. “I can’t believe that last call. The umpire must have been blind.”
A vein bulged in Gavin’s jaw. He hated it when people blamed the officials for losses. “Our fault for letting one bad call lead to a loss. I didn’t play as well as I should have.”
“Nah, it was Del Hicks, man. He missed that pop-up. His contract is up, right? Maybe we can get rid of him this year. Shed some dead weight.”
“Del Hicks is m-m-m—”
Thea would’ve known just by the look on the other man’s face that Gavin had started stammering. The asshole looked everywhere but at Gavin. As if stuttering was something to be embarrassed about. Thea despised people like him. They claimed to be such huge fans of Gavin’s, but the minute he began to stutter, they acted like he had a contagious disease.
Acting on nothing more than instinct, Thea slid her hand into Gavin’s and squeezed. His fingers closed around hers, and he exhaled. He started again. “Del Hicks is actually my best friend,” he said coldly.
“Oh. Well, I’ll, uh, I’ll let you guys get to your seats,” the man said, his face burning. “Nice to meet you.”
Thea turned and tried to tug her hand from Gavin’s, but he wouldn’t let go. Instead, he pulled her back and brought his lips to her ear, bringing with him the scent of his soap and the teasing whisper of his Tic Tac–scented breath against her skin.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
“That guy was a jerk.”
“Thea.”
The solemn tone of his voice brought her gaze to his unwittingly. She looked quickly away, though, because the same heaviness of his voice was in his eyes, and that was just too much weight for her to carry right now. “Can you