Page 49 of Caught Stealing

Chapter Nineteen

Charlotte

After our heartfelt conversation, Andrew and I came up with some fantastic ideas for the school carnival. He’s offered his services in any way that can help us bring in more money, so when I step into the meeting with the headmaster, Destiny, a few other instructors, and the student council, I’m excited to get down to turning this plan into a reality.

“I must admit, Miss Clarke, that when you first approached me with this idea, it seemed too daunting to consider. I’m excited to see what you’ve come up with,” Headmaster Charles says as he slides his glasses back up his nose.

I can’t hold in my smile. “Well, first off, a friend of mine, Andrew Rossi, has volunteered his time and resources. I think that will go a long way toward bringing in a crowd.”

“You know Andrew Rossi? Like, personally?” Matt, the student council president, sits in disbelief with wide eyes. “Like the Andrew Rossi who ditched the major leagues to come down to Savannah?”

“Well, yes.” My cheeks warm and I know I’m blushing. All I can do is hope the children don’t notice. I had all but forgotten Andrew had played in the major leagues.

“Will he come? I have so many ideas now if he can come,” Matt adds while the rest of the student council whips out their phones, presumably to look him up. A few giggles and whispered accolades are all the confirmation I need to know they found his picture. Why haven’t I done the same? Looked him up to get an idea of his life and what he’s been up to? I bite my lip and try not to show how interested I am in what they’ve found.

“Miss Clarke?” Headmaster asks.

“Oh, yes. He expressed his willingness to appear. We just need to figure out the best attractions, so that we’re utilizing his time wisely. Does anyone have any ideas?”

“Dunk tanks!” Quinlyn yells but I’m almost positive this is because she wants to see Andrew soaking wet. I must admit having seen it once myself, it’s got a nice appeal, but she’s only seventeen so she needs to keep those peepers to herself.

“Miss Martin, I’ll remind you this is a Christian preparatory school and we will act accordingly.” Headmaster Charles frowns and pushes his glasses back into proper position again. “However, I do agree that Mr. Rossi’s attendance can only help.”

“He also said he’d ask some teammates to pitch in for set up and maybe volunteer in some areas. He’s going to ask the Savannah Sharks owners for a donation as well. I’m not sure if you know about Dawson Drift Club, but they are a team of racing brothers who—”

“Are basically billionaires who buy sports teams. Yeah, we’ve heard of them,” Matt says. He’s not trying to be rude. I can tell. He’s hanging on the edge of his seat, and I realize I’ve just discovered his favorite pastime. The kid clearly likes sports. These are the most words he’s strung together in full sentences without grunts and groans I’ve heard since I met him.

“Exactly. If they offer a donation, that would be fantastic.” According to Andrew, the brothers enjoy giving their money away, and if that’s the case, then boy have I got a school in need for them to throw it to.

“Wow, I never expected this idea to take off like this,” Destiny admits. “Andrew must be an amazing guy.” She gives me suspicious side eye. She doesn’t know the latest about our relationship status—not that I’m too clear on it myself—but her assessment of him is correct. Andrew is amazing, and I’ve been sort of foolish to pretend otherwise.

“What if he can offer coaching to some of the kids? I think parents would pay for that for sure,” Mr. Moore, the physical education instructor and the coach for almost every sport on campus says.

“I’m not sure. He’s sitting out with a shoulder injury, but I can ask.” I pull out my phone to take notes but poor Matt leans so far forward to inspect what I’m doing, he falls from the seat as I suspected he would. The kid is bullied almost all the time outside of school. His father was killed in a helicopter crash when he was only two, and his mother has struggled to keep him in our school to avoid public school. I get the feeling Andrew showing up will mean the world to him.

I debate my options. Andrew is home right now, at least, he said he would be. I take a chance and call him instead of making notes. He answers on the first ring.

“Hey, beautiful. What’s up?”

My cheeks flame again and I try to hide it from the students. “I’m sitting in the planning session, and I thought we could run some ideas by you if you’re up for it.” I realize I didn’t ask permission from Headmaster Charles, so I glance up and raise my eyebrows. He nods, so I breathe a sigh of relief. You never know with him.

“Sure, put me on speaker and hit me with your ideas.”

I press the speaker phone button. “Okay, so far we have dunk tank and personal coaching, but I didn’t know what you’d be up for since your shoulder is healing.”

“Uh, I don’t mind a dunk tank. I can do coaching depending on what’s needed or if it can be at a later date,” he says. “Wait a sec. Koa’s just arrived.”

We wait patiently—at least, I do. The girls are googling Koa, and I know what that’s going to lead to. As expected, they practically squeal and swoon over his image. I roll my eyes, but I get it. I really get it.

“I can do coaching!” Koa hollers from the background.

“Koa says he can do coaching. Maybe a per hour intensive?” Andrew asks, then adds, “He says he can do ten of them.”

“That is exceedingly generous,” Mr. Moore says. “Sorry, I’m Frank Moore, the physical education instructor. I really appreciate your willingness to help our little school.”

“Anything for Lottie. Just name it, and we’ll get it done,” Andrew says.

The girls go gaga again while I try to shrink into my chair. There is no way this doesn’t devolve into a deep dive into my personal life, which is both improper and not going to happen.

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