Kitabı oku: «Call On Me», sayfa 2
And he’d been one hundred percent right on that.
“This would be the older group, not the little ones.”
The dredged-up memories sent a sick feeling rolling through him, making his skin go clammy. “Can’t I just write a check or donate proceeds from a show or something?”
Gibson blew out a breath. “No, they need your expertise not your money. Just hear me out. Tessa has a great idea for a fund-raiser, but she needs someone with experience in producing music. All the money would go toward the college fund and resources for the after-school program. You know what the charity’s about. These kids don’t have a lot, man. You and I both know what that’s like.”
Fuck. “You’re really going for the jugular here, Gib.”
“Just speaking the truth.”
Yeah, that, and Gibson was a brilliant PR guy who knew how to pitch things. Monty laid his head on Pike’s chest, and Pike scratched behind Monty’s ear. “You’ve even got my dog giving me the don’t-be-a-bastard look.”
Gibson chuckled. “I sneak him treats when I’m there. He’s on my side.”
Pike ran a hand over his face. This was a bad idea. But even he wasn’t a big enough asshole to turn his back on kids who needed help. It was places like Bluebonnet that had helped his family when they needed it. He and his siblings probably never would’ve gotten a Christmas gift or decent coats if not for community programs. What kind of hypocrite would it make him if he said no? But the thought of working with children made him want to run for the damn hills. “What exactly do they want me to do?”
He could almost hear Gibson’s victory grin over the phone. “It won’t be a big deal at all.”
Pike closed his eyes. Famous last words.
THREE
Oakley fought to keep her eyes open as she transcribed information from the millionth file of the day and added it to the new thirteen-page government form that Bluebonnet Place needed to keep on every child. She polished off the rest of her coffee and glanced at the clock. Only half an hour before she got to take a break from the office work and go have her session with the kids. She could make it without a refill. Maybe.
She traced her finger down the convoluted form, trying to figure out where this information should go. “If yes then go to line 7B. If no, go to line 10A. If neither, rip up this frigging form and forfeit any remnants of your sanity.”
“You know, I’ve always wondered if the people who create government forms spend their free time tying people up and torturing them.”
Oakley’s skin prickled at the low, smooth voice, the melodic sound like a soft stroke to the back of her neck. She spun in her office chair, poised to say Excuse me?, but nothing came out when her gaze collided with her visitor. At least six feet of lean, tattooed, blond bad boy was lounging against the counter and looking straight at her.
The guy gave her a conspiratorial smile and leaned a little closer, cocking his head toward her pile of papers, his eyebrow ring glinting underneath the lights. “I mean, only a sadist would make anyone try to fit letters into those little boxes.”
He was talking about documents, but he may as well have asked her if she’d like to go out back and get naked for the way her body responded to the comment. Oakley swallowed past the dryness in her throat, trying to regain her professional composure despite her rogue hormonal reaction to the man’s presence. This guy clearly was in the wrong place. Who walked into a children’s charity and started making jokes about tying people up? Maybe he wanted the tattoo shop down the street. Though there didn’t seem to be any spare spots on his arms to fill with ink. “Can I help you, sir?”
Yes. Good. That sounded calm and professional. Go her.
“No need for the sir.” His lips tilted, mischief sparking in gold-green eyes. “I didn’t say I was a sadist. But yes, I bet you can help me.”
Yes, she could. Right out of that tight T-shirt.
No, no, no. Stop. What the hell was wrong with her? Hello, libido, meet Mr. Not My Type.
The man kept close, like this was some secret conversation. “I’m here to talk to the leggy blonde who runs this place. She here?”
The words snapped Oakley out of her lust haze. Leggy blonde? Oakley straightened, affronted on behalf of her boss. “If you mean Mrs. Vandergriff, she has a parent in her office right now. Name, please.”
He tilted his head at her cool tone. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Name, please.”
He rose to his full height and hooked his thumbs in his pockets, vague amusement on his face. “Pike.”
She was about to ask his last name, but with a name like Pike, she doubted it was needed. “You can take a seat, and I’ll let her know you’re here when she’s done.”
He glanced at the row of chairs in the small lobby. “Or you could take a break from the torture and give me a tour of the place. I’d like to know what I’m signing up for.”
She lifted a brow.
No way did he have a kid who qualified for services here. She’d taken a good long look at him now that he’d given her some breathing room. His worn jeans and vintage Dead Kennedys T-shirt may look thrown together, but she recognized expensive threads when she saw them. She’d taken that course in looking artfully casual once upon a time. Plus, imagining him with a kid just didn’t compute. He looked like the guy you’d try to keep your kids away from.
“You do realize that you or your child have to be under eighteen to sign up for anything? And we don’t give tours. We protect children’s privacy here.”
He grinned, undeterred. “I can see why Tessa puts you at the front.”
Oakley straightened the file on her desk and gave him a tight smile back. “Because I’m so welcoming and warm?”
“Exactly.” He eased forward again, challenge dancing in eyes framed by sooty lashes. “What’s your name, o’ powerful gatekeeper? Something about you seems so familiar.”
Her fingers tightened around the file, his nearness and evaluating look making her heart skip a few beats, but she kept her reaction off her face. It was near impossible that anyone could recognize her these days. She’d changed her hair color from blue back to the natural dark brown, was a decade older, and at least fifteen pounds heavier since she’d been anyone worth recognizing. “Oakley Easton.”
His eyes narrowed as if trying to place her. The name wouldn’t be familiar to him even if he were close to the mark. But he gave up soon enough. “Guess we haven’t met.”
“I just have one of those faces.”
“No, you don’t,” he said, his gaze drifting over every inch of her features. “I’d remember your face. I think it might be your voice. There’s something about it.”
Oh. Shit. She swallowed hard. No way Pike could be one of her callers. She didn’t know much about him, but she had all the information she needed by looking at him. Tall. Confident. Sporting a body that made her want to stand up and hang over the desk so she could get a better look. He could walk into any bar or club and make panties drop with a smirk and a head nod. This would not be a guy who’d pay per minute for phone sex.
She attempted an air of nonchalance. “Lots of people have similar voices.”
“True. But I have an ear for them. And yours is unique—smoky with some rasp in it. I like it.”
Somehow the simplest, most innocuous words sounded illicit rolling off his lips. I like it sounded like I’d fuck you in her head. Paired with his intent focus, she was fighting hard not to squirm in her chair. She cleared her throat. “A voice fetishist. That’s new.”
The words slipped out before she could stop them. Dammit. Nighttime Oakley was not supposed to make an appearance at the day job. She worked hard to keep them separate.
Pike chuckled, the sound rich and full, like cashmere brushing over bare skin. “Maybe I am. Kind of comes with the territory.”
Territory? That’s when it clicked.
She should’ve pinned it from the start. Tattoos. Piercings. Attitude. She’d known enough of the type to last her a lifetime. Distaste filled her. “You’re a musician.”
He eyed her. “Wow, clearly, you’re impressed. You look like you just smelled something bad.”
“It’s not …” But it was, and she didn’t know how to finish the sentence without sounding even ruder. She picked up her phone and hit a button.
Tessa answered on the first ring. “What’cha got for me?”
“Was just checking to see if you’re done with your meeting. There’s a guy here to see you—a mister … Pike.”
“Seriously?” Tessa said, triumph in her voice.
“Uh … yeah.”
“Amazing. Bonus points to my brother-in-law. He actually got him here.”
Pike reached over the counter and plucked a butterscotch from Oakley’s candy dish. She gave him a you’re-invading-my-personal-space brow lift, but Pike only grinned and dragged the wrapped candy between his teeth to suck it out of the cellophane. Obscene. Especially when he didn’t look away from her the whole time. Her body stirred in a way it hadn’t in longer than she could remember. Very, very stupid thoughts entered her mind.
She smoothed her lip balm and tried to tamp down her body’s ridiculous response. Maybe she had some genetic malfunction. This was exactly the type of guy who shouldn’t flip her switch. She’d already been burned by this kind of wildfire. No, not burned. Incinerated. “Would you like me to send him back?”
“Sure, that’d be great,” Tessa said, the sound of shuffling papers in the background. “Is Ella coming in to relieve you this afternoon?”
“She should be here any minute.”
“Great. Because there’s something I need to run by you after my chat with Pike.”
“No problem. I’ll be in the music room when you need me.”
She exchanged a quick good-bye with Tessa and set the phone in its cradle. Pike was still half-draped on her counter, making everything smell like butterscotch and male arrogance. Damn but she needed to get this man away from her.
“Mrs. Vandergriff is available now. I need to get a copy of your ID before you can go back there, though.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He pulled out his wallet and handed her his driver’s license. Pike Ryland. So he did have a last name.
She ran it through the small desktop scanner and handed the card back to him. “Just go through that door. Her office is the last door on the right.”
He tucked his wallet back into his pocket, which made that worn T-shirt stretch tighter across his lean chest. “You’re not going to escort me back there? I may get lost or violate privacy laws or something. Plus, you never gave me that tour.”
His tone was teasing, playful, but there was a dare in those wicked eyes. She pretended to busy herself with the papers in front of her. “I can’t leave my desk until someone else covers it.”
He glanced behind him. “It doesn’t look like there’s a line forming to get in or anything.”
“Someone could come in.”
He rolled the candy in his mouth. “You always so strict about following the rules, Miz Easton?”
“Yes.” She didn’t know why she was being so bullheaded about it. She could leave her desk for a few minutes if she needed to. One of the volunteers could watch the front. But Pike’s presence had her off balance, and she didn’t want to extend that feeling any longer.
“Mmm, shame.” He cocked his head toward the door. “Then go ahead and buzz me in, Lady Gatekeeper. I wouldn’t want to get anyone in trouble.”
“I have a feeling that’s not true at all.”
He laughed. “Touché.”
She hit the button under her desk to unlock the door, and Pike gave the counter two raps with his knuckles, like a warning that they weren’t done here, before disappearing into the hallway.
She sagged back in her chair and expelled a breath she’d been holding. Then as soon as she determined he was safely ensconced in her boss’s office, she opened up a search box on her computer, typing in Pike Ryland.
A page of results filled the screen in an instant, including a short line of thumbnail images. Pike Ryland, drummer of the hard rock band Darkfall.
Ha. She should’ve known. He had drummer written all over him—cut biceps, lanky frame, that I-own-the-world swagger. She had yet to meet a humble drummer. You had to be a big personality to make your presence known when you were stuck behind a drum kit and the rest of the band on stage.
Unable to resist, she clicked through a few of the images. Pike on stage. Pike shirtless, dripping with sweat, as he banged the drums. Good God. She shifted in her chair and clicked some more.
But the next few featured Pike with a rotation of supermodel-gorgeous women on his arm at parties and events. Ugh. That effectively cooled her jets.
She clicked on the Wikipedia entry. The page listed two albums and a gold single from a few years ago. She vaguely recognized one or two of their songs. Hard rock really wasn’t her musical poison of choice. But everything she read and saw in the photos confirmed why she’d gotten that bitter taste in her mouth when she’d figured out he was a musician.
They were all the same. And it only got worse when they had some success.
She closed out all of the windows and went back to her forms, vowing to not give Mr. Ryland another thought. If nothing else she’d learned a few things this afternoon.
Good news: Her libido was not dead after all.
Bad news: It still had destructive taste.
And like a recovering alcoholic, she knew to stay far, far away from that brand of temptation.
FOUR
“Local children’s theatre?” Pike settled back in the chair, focusing on Tessa and trying to ignore the raucous sound of children playing in the yard outside her window. He tugged at the collar of his T-shirt. After his run-in with the hot, uptight receptionist, he’d almost managed to forget what he was walking into. Now it felt like the walls were closing in on him. “No offense, but you’re not going to make much money from that.”
Tessa frowned from behind her desk. “The guy we were supposed to be working with—the one who had to back out—was going to mentor the kids and polish them up musically. He said if we did a couple of shows, charged ticket fees, it could be good.”
“I don’t see that happening. The only people who will want to see kids sing live are their parents.” Pike hooked his ankle over his knee. “And I know that most of the families you’re working with don’t really have the money to pay a high ticket price. It’ll be a waste of time.”
Hers. The kids. And most of all, his. Maybe he could get out of this after all. No use helping with a dead-on-arrival idea.
“You’d make a lot more holding a benefit concert again and having some local bands play. I could get the guys to do a show, and I could reach out to a few other bands in the area.”
Her frown stayed in place, and she tapped her fingernails on her desk, thoughtful. “We could do that, but I was hoping to do something where the kids are more involved this year. It’s their college funds at stake. I think it means more if they feel like they’ve had a hand in earning it.”
“Have them work the shows, sell tickets.”
A line appeared in her forehead. “These kids have talent, though.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“Yeah, yeah, I know I’m biased.” She gave him a what-can-ya-do smile. “But we’ve got some strong singers, a couple of guitar players, and a burgeoning drummer. Plus, the woman I have working with them is amazing. She’s helping them to write their own songs and has really invested her time with them. I want to see the kids share what they’re creating with the world.”
The earnestness in her voice was killing him. He didn’t know Tessa all that well. He’d only been around her when she was with her husband, Kade—and then it was usually at The Ranch where she was in submissive mode. But he could tell this wasn’t simply a job for her. Lord knows she didn’t need to work. Kade was a goddamned mogul. So this was all heart for her. And it was making him feel like a dick for wanting to get out of it.
He sighed, an idea coming to him that could be a perfect solution but a pain in the ass. “Having a performance at the children’s theatre isn’t sharing it with the world. Maybe you should think bigger.”
“Bigger?”
He shifted forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs, trying not to talk himself out of what he was about to say. “I don’t know if Gibson told you, but I’ve opened up a small studio in town. It’s kind of a side project for me when I’m not doing Darkfall stuff. I cut demos for people and have started to produce some local start-up musicians.”
“Yeah, he said something about it. Aren’t you working with Colby’s boyfriend?”
“Keats? Yeah, talented kid.”
She smiled, her amused gaze flicking over him. “I didn’t know you were into country.”
“I’m into good music, regardless of genre.” Plus, if Pike wanted to make a real go of producing in the future, he needed to attract talent now, get some buzz going. Keats had a real shot at breaking out.
“So what does this have to do with the kids?” she asked.
“Well, I’m thinking that if you want the kids to be heard, maybe that’s the way.”
“Meaning?”
“There’s no bigger world stage than the Internet. I help them cut a record. They can put a few tracks together and put them for sale online. The proceeds could go to the fund. Then once the songs are out, maybe they can put on a small show to promote it.”
Her eyes lit. “You could do that? They could have real-deal songs out there?”
Fuck. Me. He forced a smile. “If they have enough material and patience to put together a track or two. Recording can be tedious.”
She clapped her hands together. “Oh my god, that would be fantastic. They’ll think they’re stars! Imagine how proud they’ll be to have an actual song out that people can buy. I love this idea.”
Great. Fantastic. Shoot me. All he could picture was little kids running around his studio, screaming into the mics and climbing all over the expensive equipment. “How far along are they with having a full song ready to go?”
Tessa rolled her chair back. “Why don’t you go see for yourself? They’re working on it now in the music room.”
“We don’t have to—”
But Tessa was already cruising around the desk and grabbing for his hand. “Come on. They’ll be thrilled to meet you. They were so bummed when the other guy had to bail. But now they get to work with a genuine rock star!”
He snorted. “Marginally popular at best.”
And if his band didn’t get it together soon, they would be candidates for Where Are They Now? shows in the not so distant future.
His stomach knotted as Tessa led him down a hall filled with colorful drawings and finger-painted artwork pinned to the walls. He rubbed the back of his neck, finding sweat there. This was so not his scene.
But when they rounded the corner and Tessa stopped in front of a window that looked into a wide room, he forgot his discomfort for a minute. Ms. Uptight Receptionist was sitting in the middle of a circle of older kids, strumming a guitar and singing something. He couldn’t hear anything from outside the room, but the way her fingers moved over the strings was all confident elegance. Huh. The woman who had sneered at the idea of him being a musician appeared to be one herself.
And the tight-lipped, steel-spined posture she’d maintained during most of their conversation was gone, replaced with this sexy sway and bright-eyed smile. He let his eyes linger on her profile then travel down, watching the way her throat worked when she let out her notes and the way the swells of her breasts rose and fell with her breath. He adjusted his stance, willing his body not to react. Then Tessa cracked open the door, and Oakley’s sultry voice hit him in the gut—smooth water over jagged rocks. Every ounce of his blood traveled straight south.
Goddamn. If a voice could be fuckable, hers was. And the woman attached to it wasn’t hard to look at either. Dark hair and eyes that went cat green when she was annoyed—which had been about ninety percent of their interaction. He’d wanted that tour more than he’d let on just so he could keep teasing her and making those pink lips of hers purse. He put a hand on Tessa’s shoulder. “Don’t interrupt her.”
Tessa looked over at him with a knowing smile. “I told you she was pretty amazing.”
“Is that who I’m going to be working with?”
“Mmm-hmm. She works reception in the mornings, but once the kids get here after school, she helps out with them. If we do this project, I’ll find someone else to cover the desk so that she can take this on fully.”
“We met up front. I don’t think she likes me very much,” he said, keeping his voice low and his eyes on Oakley.
“Let me guess. You flirted with her.”
He glanced over at Tessa, feigning an innocent Who-me? expression.
Tessa sniffed. “I knew she sounded weird on the phone. You Ranch boys are a menace.”
“Hey, you’re married to a Ranch boy.”
“I stand by my statement.” She glanced at the room and the woman in it. The singing had stopped and Oakley was directing the kids on something or other. “If you want to get along with Oakley, lay off that kind of thing. She has a lot on her plate and likes to keep things professional. She doesn’t strike me as someone who’s looking for a walk on the wild side, anyway.”
“Who says I’m the wild side?”
Tessa gave him a withering look.
“Fine. If she wants to keep things professional, I can do that.”
Mostly. Maybe.
Tessa’s eyes narrowed for a moment, but then she shook her head. “Come on, let’s go in and do introductions so y’all can start planning.”
When they walked in, the kids were all chatting at once. But one voice rang above the others.
“I swear to God, if she mentions another One Direction song, I’m going to puke,” said a young girl with short-cropped black hair and a Runaways T-shirt. “That’s all we did last week. Their songs make me want to punch someone in the face.”
Pike had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.
“Reagan,” Oakley said sharply. “That isn’t how we share our opinions here. Be respectful.”
Mini Pat Benatar turned her green-eyed gaze to Oakley. A little bit of a staring contest ensued, then Reagan finally gave in and turned to the girl she’d been addressing. She let out a heavy, dramatic sigh. “I’m sorry. One Direction songs make my stomach hurt, and I would really like it if we could do something different.”
She punctuated the sentence with a toothy, plastic smile.
Pike instantly liked her.
The boy-band fan clearly did not, though. The blond girl crossed her arms and sneered. “At least it’s not as bad as your weird music. No one’s even heard of the stuff you like.”
“Okay, let’s get back on task,” Oakley said, a tired edge to her voice.
Tessa stepped forward out of the shadowed back of the room. “Sorry to interrupt, guys. But I wanted to introduce you to someone.”
Oakley turned and her gaze landed heavy on Pike. For a split second he caught her raw reaction—lips parting, gaze flicking down the length of his body as if she couldn’t resist a full look. But as quickly as it was there, she reeled it in. Wariness descended over her face, but like the younger girl, she managed to fake a smile, clearly more for the kids’ behalf than his. All the other heads in the room turned toward him, too—most of the kids staring at him with open curiosity. Tension coiled in his neck and shoulders.
“Everyone, this is Mr. Ryland. He’s going to be taking Mr. Gull’s place and has kindly offered to help with your song project.”
“You’re in a band,” Reagan blurted out. Not a question.
The outburst startled Pike out of his stiff posture. Oakley turned to correct Reagan. But he interrupted her before she could. “How’d you guess? You know Darkfall?”
Reagan crossed her arms, her eyes not meeting his but looking at the rest of him instead. “No. But your ears and eyebrow are pierced and you have lots of tattoos. Some have music notes and drumsticks in them. It’d be pretty dumb to get those if you weren’t in a band.”
His lips tilted up. “Yeah, I guess it would be.”
“My mom says all tattoos are pretty dumb, though.”
“Reagan,” Oakley corrected, pressing fingers to the spot between her eyes.
He laughed. He liked that the kid didn’t mince words. Plus, the fact that this girl had plucked out details from his intricate full sleeve tattoos from across the room was pretty impressive. “I guess your mom would think I was a big dummy then.”
Some of the kids in the group giggled and others started to announce who had tattoos in their family.
Oakley shook her head at the quickly deteriorating order in the group and then clapped her hands. “All right, all right. Let’s get quiet so Mrs. Vandergriff can talk.”
The kids settled after a few more seconds, and Tessa went on to explain what Pike had proposed—making a real record. Controlled chaos broke out again after that, the kids cheering, tossing out suggestions on songs, and planning their mansions in the Hollywood Hills for after they became famous. The only ones who weren’t bubbling with excitement were Oakley and Reagan. Reagan was sitting quietly, a thoughtful, intense expression on her face. And Oakley looked as if she’d just been told she had a meeting with an executioner.
“Ms. Easton, can we steal you for a minute so we can work out some details?” Tessa asked.
Oakley instructed the kids to gather into two small groups and to brainstorm on what songs they wanted to work on the most, then she headed over to where Pike and Tessa were.
Tessa put a hand on Pike’s shoulder. “Oakley, I know you two have already met at the front, but I wanted to officially introduce you. Pike’s a good friend of Kade’s brother, Gibson, and he’s also the drummer in Darkfall.”
Oakley didn’t look a bit impressed by this news. She stuck out her hand formally. “Nice to meet you.”
Pike took her hand. It was ice cold as he wrapped his fingers around it. She tried to pull back quickly, but he wasn’t letting her get away with that. He rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand. “Likewise, Ms. Easton.”
He released her hand when she gave another minuscule tug and flashed a warning with her eyes.
“Pike is doing us a huge favor to take time out for this,” Tessa said. “So I really need you to help him in whatever way you can on this project.”
He smiled. He could think of some interesting ways she could help him. Oakley wouldn’t look his way.
“This will be our flagship project this year,” Tessa continued. “And it’d be great to unveil at least one song at the annual benefit dinner. It’s important for those who donate to us to see what we can do.”
Oakley nodded. “Of course. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
“It may take extra hours,” Tessa said, looking over at the kids and missing the barest wince from Oakley.
“Extra hours?” Oakley asked.
Tessa nodded. “I was thinking you can make use of your time in the mornings. I’ll find someone to cover the desk in the meantime. But I have a feeling this will end up being a lot of informal time not here at the office since, Pike, I’m assuming your schedule is a little erratic.”
“It’s not nine to five, for sure,” he said, watching Oakley shift and her shoulders droop. The woman did look tired. Maybe extra hours were a hardship.
“I figured. So, don’t feel like you have to keep everything here at the office within a certain time slot. You two do what you need to do to get this done on a schedule that works best for you. Let me know whatever overtime you log and keep me up to date.”
Oakley gave a curt nod and smile to Tessa. “Of course. I’m sure I can get most of it done on my own and won’t have to bother Mr. Ryland too much.”
He smirked. So she was trying to get rid of him already. And though when he walked in, he would’ve happily taken the opportunity to have as minimal a role as possible, now he wasn’t so sure. “It’s not a bother at all. I’m looking forward to working closely with you. No use of bringing me in if you’re not going to take advantage of my skills.”
Her small smile radiated sarcasm, but she managed not to say anything snide in front of her boss.
“Fantastic,” Tessa said, oblivious to the silent exchange. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. And dinner’s on me. Take tonight to make up a rough plan of what needs to be done and when and we’ll go from there.”
Oakley’s gaze darted back to him. “Tonight?”
But Tessa was already strolling out the door.
Pike hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Guess it’s a date, then.”
Her lips thinned. “Not a date. Work.”
He grinned, unperturbed by her chilly response. “How can you not like me already? Usually it takes women at least a time or two to give me that look. And usually they get something out of the deal first.”
She blinked, then that cat-eye green came back into her eyes. “You really have to ask?”
“Yeah. I’m asking. What did I do to you?” He leaned a little closer. “Well, besides make you think really impure thoughts at work. Because let’s face it, that totally happened. It may be happening right now. With children present, no less. Are you thinking impure thoughts, Ms. Easton? You can tell me.”
“Does wishing bodily injury upon someone count?”
He laughed. “Kinky.”
She stared at him for a long second, looking as if she may maim or dismember him, but then she blew out a breath. “Look, I’m sure you’re having fun, but I’m not playing this game. You’re here to volunteer. Great. The kids are going to love it.”
“But you’re not.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s not about me.”
“You’re saying you don’t need the help?”
She glanced over her shoulder at the kids, her expression softening before she turned back to him. “We always need the help. Sure. But this job means a lot to me. These kids mean a lot to me. And to be frank, I don’t have time to cater to some celebrity who’s here to put in time with the poor kids for the sake of a press clipping.”
