I’m not one of those sideliner moms who screams at her kid, or gets into altercations with other parents. I encourage Deaton, but I’m also always cheering on the other kids as well.
When I get to the field, I immediately look for Brad. The kids are already running around on the field, and I spot Deaton right away. He sees me and waves; I wave back, headed to the sideline, but I still don’t spot Brad.Where is he?
I check my phone to see if he’s texted me, or if he had to leave — which would be very unlike Brad because he’s the most reliable person I know — but there’s nothing.
Frowning, I look around, using my hand as a shield because the sun is still high in the sky. That’s when I stop. My eyes bug wide, and not because Lorelei Matthews has her hand placed on Brad’s chest and is laughing like a hyena — noting several other moms standing around with similar awed expressions on their faces — no, no. It’s when my eyes drop to his attire. The man who basically owns every single suit from Hugo Boss, Armani and Versace, is standing on the sidelines of my child’s soccer game, wearing sweats. Not just any sweats. As he turns his back to me, I seeThe LA Wandererspasted on the back.
What in the heck is going on?
And since when did the team have brand new sweatsuits?
He certainly looks comfortable surrounded by a gaggle of women, but that’s nothing new. Brad has always been a charmer. As I zone in and then begin to move towards him, he suddenly shifts. Our eyes lock. For a few fleeting moments, we just stare at each other, but then his small smile turns into a fully fledged grin.
I half expect him to do a twirl, considering his audience, but instead he crooks his finger, indicating that I keep moving toward him.
I roll my eyes, because duh, my feet are still moving, and as I get closer, some of the women turn to look at where he’s staring.
I pique a brow when I reach them and mouth, “Wow.”
The man they call Mr. Grumpy around the office at Lucas Property Brothers certainly seems quite at home on the soccer field. The sweats? Divine. They’re gray, of course, with dark blue writing on the hoodie; there’s a smaller emblem on the front left side, and then the larger logo on the back. He has his hair styled as per usual perfection, a five-o’clock shadow, and his glasses. I’m surprised he doesn’t have women fainting at his feet. To make matters worse? He rolls his sleeves up as I approach, and several of the ladies glance at his tattooed arms. Oh, brother. Imay need help prying them away from my best friend, but it’s doubtful I can take them all on my own.
“Oh, hi, Chelsea!” Lorelei, still touching Brad, coos. “Didn’t see you there.”
I smile as sweetly as I can muster. “I just arrived.”
The other moms greet me and Brad moves away from Lorelei and her clutches.
“Hello, Chels.” Brad smiles. “Got a second?”
“I’ve got lots of seconds, as it happens.” I finger wave to the other women as Brad puts an arm around my shoulders. I don’t know why I did that, or why I feel a little smug that I have his undivided attention.
“Thank god you’re here,” he mutters. “There was about to be a mutiny on the bounty.”
“Right, but more importantly, you’re in sweats.”
He looks down at himself. “So I am. You like?” He waggles his eyebrows.
“Yes, it looks good on you. As you know, I’ve never ever seen you out of a suit. Not since we were kids, anyway. I think the ladies back there seemed to like it.”
“The question was, do you?”
“I think sweats are quite becoming on you.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“So, how the heck did you get hold of that sweatsuit, anyway?” I ask suspiciously.
“Well, I heard a few weeks back the kids were needing some new gear, and didn’t quite have all the money raised. So I pitched in the rest.”
I blink once, twice, stopping in my tracks. “You did?”
He shrugs. “Why not? I admit, I had to forgo my Pilates class for the entire month, but the kids will be happy when they get their new shirts and sweatsuits when they finish.”
“You don’t do Pilates.”
He ignores that. “I have a set for you in my trunk. We can all be matchy.”
I laugh at the thought of us in matching soccer sweatsuits. “Please do not use that Pilates line on any other woman.” I shake my head. “But thank you, B, that was so unusually thoughtful of you.”
