“You always were too good for me,” Chase said. “Back then and even now.”
“Thanks for that.” Nichole stopped at a red light. “But we both know the truth.”
“Which is what?” His voice lowered as if guarded.
“You’re at your best surrounded by people. You’re at your best on center stage.” Nichole frowned.
Chase was more like her parents than Nicole ever could be. He wouldn’t have been banned to live with her grandparents had he been their son. What would her parents think of her now? Claiming to be married to a famous athlete and still struggling to conquer her stage fright. Surely by now she should’ve grown beyond her fears.
She peered at Chase. He took up the entire passenger seat, and where his body didn’t touch, his confidence took over. “I prefer the backstage role and less people.”
“So, the press won’t connect us because we’re too different.” Chase nodded, and his usual sideways grin dropped into place. He leaned on the console and wiggled his eyebrows at her. “What about that saying—opposites attract?”
“Be serious.” Nichole pushed him back into his seat, pressed on the gas pedal and stalled her own impulse to close the distance between them. She’d earned immunity from his ever-present charisma years ago. She wouldn’t fall for it—or him—now. “This was never about attraction. This was about closing our business deals.”
She hadn’t pushed him far enough away. She still felt his regard. Don’t look. Drive. Don’t look.
Another red light stopped their progress. Silence squeezed into the car like a crowd at the bus stop. And Nichole looked.
One of his eyebrows lifted, the slightest flinch. His intense gaze dropped to her mouth. Only a quick dip. Quick enough she rolled her lips together. Recalled their kiss. In remarkable detail. Before he focused again on her eyes.
Was that attraction in his gaze? Interest? No. This was charming Chase. She was plain Nichole. Still she fidgeted, tugged on the suddenly too tight seat belt. The city rarely had a heat wave. But she wanted to roll down every window and turn the AC to full blast. Was she attracted to him? She wanted another kiss... Just to test her theory. Prove she was right. No attraction existed. Impossible thoughts solved nothing. Actions mattered. Nichole leaned toward him.
A car horn blasted behind them. Then another. Nichole jerked away, grabbed the steering wheel and what was left of her common sense. She sped through a yellow light, vowing not to waste another red light or minute on the improbable. Kissing Chase proved nothing.
Four green lights in a row kept Nichole’s concentration on the road. Finally, the school came into view. Nichole turned into the car line. A familiar man, his usual bow tie in place, waved at her and motioned her into a front row parking space.
“What’s happening?” Chase looked outside the window. “I thought car lines were moving. Is this usual?”
“Never. I have no idea what’s going on.” Nichole turned off the engine and climbed out of the car. Had something happened to Wesley? She reached for her phone. Why hadn’t the school office called? Why was Mr. Burton, the school principal wanting her to park?
Chase rounded the front of the car and met Nichole on the sidewalk. He stood beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched, as if he understood her alarm, yet wasn’t quite certain how to help.
Mr. Burton hurried toward them, his bow tie tilted. His gaze swept from Nichole to Chase and back. “Ms. Moore, we had a bit of an incident today.”
What was a bit? If Mr. Burton was involved, surely that implied more than a minor mishap. Where was Wesley? “You’re just telling me about this now. Why?”
Mr. Burton rubbed his chin, his gaze got stuck on Chase like a fervent fan’s. He seemed unable to believe his idol actually existed. “It’s just that...”
“Hey Dad!” At the entrance of the school, Wesley managed a wave that lifted his feet off the ground. His grin splintered across his entire face. He yelled again. “Hey Mom!”
Nicole swayed and would have given in to her buckling knees if not for Chase’s supportive hand on her lower back. Surely, she’d misheard. No one had openly recognized her in that photograph. Certainly, a bunch of schoolkids weren’t interested in Chase Jacobs’s marital status. Her knees wobbled.
Mr. Burton sighed, almost as loud as Wesley’s greeting. He lifted his hand toward several staff members as if reassuring them all was well now. Or perhaps he was holding them off for the moment. The staff members already had their phones out.
Across the parking lot, parents pointed. Teachers huddled together. Then recognition flared, rocketing across the crowd. As if on cue, everyone produced their cell phones.
Wesley sprinted away from his two best friends and raced toward Chase and Nichole.
Before Nichole could fling open the car doors and order everyone to safety, Wesley reached them and launched himself into Chase’s arms for a full hug.
“Ms. Moore, call me tomorrow and I can explain.” Mr. Burton smiled at Chase and Wesley. Tenderness reached from his gaze to his voice. He touched Chase’s shoulder and nodded as if offering his approval and support. The principal added, “Right now, I’m going to get the car line moving.”
Nichole wanted to get moving too. Wesley had yet to release his hold on Chase.
“I can call you Dad, can’t I?” Wesley’s whisper fell far short of a whisper.
Chase’s gaze collided with Nichole’s, his bewildered and stunned. But in the corner of his mouth, there was a gentle weak quiver as if he was touched by Wesley’s unexpected question.
Or maybe that was only Nichole wanting to see what she needed to see. That Chase wouldn’t hurt her son.
