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Marcus turns toward the woman with the mic and aims his million-dollar smile straight at the camera. “If you’ll give us a minute, we’ll get things organized.”

“Really Delaney?” I say, attempting to avoid being in the direct line of the camera.

The camera! The man comes with his own media team to an event that is supposed to be about serving others.

I stare Marcus straight in those marble grey-blue eyes. “You bring the chaos and then you swoop in to clean up the mess you made?”

He tilts his head and gives me this look that's the combination of a smolder and a smirk. A smoldirk. A smirlder. Something messed up and intended to win me over with all that southern charm.

“So you don't want me here?” he asks.

“I'm not saying that. I'm just saying ... ugh!”

“Ugh?” His smoldirk now includes raised brows. “Could you be more specific? Maybe use your words, Carter.”

I glance around. Thankfully, his cameraman is filming the Delaney-induced chaos. The crowd is filling this corner of the square, mingling in a disorganized swarm of bodies.

Marcus breaks our stare-down and raises his voice. “Hey! Everybody! Everybody!”

The crowd starts to still almost immediately.

“Let's get some systems in place so we can all get home before dinner,” he says. “I've got a preseason game tomorrow.”

People laugh. But they’re staring at him.

I had systems before he came in like Hurricane Marcus. It’s not like I hadn’t prepared. I hadn’t prepared for him. That’s all.

He carries on, "If your last name starts with A-F, please line up at these two tables. G-P over here at these two. And Q-Z down here. Thanks, folks. We appreciate you.”

He smiles back at the camera which is now fixed on his face again. The woman with the mic says, “Good thing you showed up, Marcus.”

He says, “I do what I can. Thanks, Suzette.”

I turn my back to the camera and face Winona to let out a silent scream. Winona places her hand on my shoulder. Then she physically turns my head toward the six sign-up tables.

“Look at all your volunteers. And now there's order.” She turns my face back towards hers and gently says, “Let it go.”

I blow out a breath and say, “I'm trying. I'll harness my inner Elsa.”

“Yes,” Winona says with a soft laugh. “But be careful about the whole shooting icicles thing, m’kay?”

Chapter 10

Marcus

If you’re in for a penny, you’re in for a pound.

~ English Proverb, 17th Century

We’ve got a preseason game at our stadium in Murfreesboro today. The sound of conversations with the occasional burst of laughter fill the team bus. We’re amped for this game and only about ten minutes into the hour-long drive from Waterford when my phone rings.

Instead of her usual greeting, Kate says, “Yesterday was a home run.”

“Thanks,” I say. “We could even say … a touchdown.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll stick with football metaphors,” she says.

I laugh and her corresponding laughter feels like a win. I didn’t love having to bring a camera crew, but I do like digging my public image out of the hole, and yesterday was a win-win. People showed up when I showed up. The project got more support.