enough.
Looking around, he spotted an out of the way corner and headed for it. Even before reaching it, a group of three giggling women stopped him.
“Can we get your autograph?” one cooed.
He gave them the smile he used most often - cold and distant, he hoped. “Do you have paper and a pen?”
One of them held out a marker and turned her back to him, sweeping her hair to one side and baring her shoulder. “Can you sign my back?”
The smile tightened more. “Sorry. My attorney says I can’t.” He would do anything he could to get out of it, but using his attorney as an excuse worked best most of the time. The guy wasn’t Wyatt’s attorney anymore, but they didn’t need to know that. He felt certain Mama Beach would give him the same answer.
“I don’t have any paper,” the woman pouted. Did she really think he’d find that attractive?
“I don’t either,” he told her.
The pout deepened. “How about a picture?”
He knew the routine. They’d hang all over him while their friends took pictures, then rotate. The whole thing had become tedious years earlier.
Keeping the smile in place wore him out.
Ms. SignMyBack slipped her hand between his arm and torso, clinging to him, with her head tilted on his shoulder. He was careful to keep his hands clasped in front of him. He’d seen too many accidental brushes that turned into something they never were.
Intentional brushes did happen, on the part of players and the women, but he’d seen the unintentional turn ugly too many times.
And then Madi was there, an angry look in her eyes and a sickly-sweet smile on her face. She gently, but firmly, pried the woman off him.
Ms. SignMyBack started toward Madi, fury written all over her body language. “I saw him first, honey. Back off.”
Madi held up her left hand, the simple band firmly in place. “Try again, honey. Check social media. Or any sports outlet. Or gossip page. He’s taken. Back off.”
Wyatt didn’t need anyone to fight his battles for him, but as they walked away from the women, hand-in-hand, he realized it was kind of nice to have someone he could count on to be on his side, no matter what.
He dropped her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they walked.
Maybe this would work out just fine after all.
With her arms crossed over her chest, Madi refused to walk into the house.
“What’s wrong?” Wyatt asked, putting his string bag back over his shoulders.
“This is the wrong house.” She stared at the house she specifically didn’t choose.
“What’s wrong with it?” Poor Wyatt had no idea.
“I chose the farm house.” But she didn’t want to come off looking like a whiny baby. “The farm house is special.” She’d already told him that, but it was right before everything went crazy, so maybe he didn’t remember.
He walked back toward her. “How so?”
She forced herself to relax. “My great-great grandfather built that house. My brother and sister-in-law own it and live next door.” Her nose wrinkled. “It’s farm country so next door is like a quarter-mile away but still.”
“It’s not like we’re allowed to go out or have people over, though,” he reminded her.
“I know. But if we need to ask someone to get something for us, it’s a lot more convenient to ask them when they live right there than all the way on the other side of the lake. Plus, even though it hasn’t been owned by my family since the Depression, it’s still like a family house, you know?” She tried not to be disappointed and this house would likely prove to be a nicer house, but still.
She let her arms drop. “It’s fine. I was just caught off-guard.” With a deep breath, she started up the stairs to the house.
For the next two-and-a-half hours, they explored the house.
It should have taken about twenty minutes, but the camera crews insisted on doing things over and over.
They didn’t need six bedrooms and five full and two half bathrooms, but that’s what they were given.
Two large living areas, including one attached to a movie room in the walkout basement, gave them plenty of room to spread out when Madi needed to work.
The kitchen boasted everything they could want. Madi had no doubt she’d spend as little time in it as possible, but if she did, it would be the nicest kitchen she’d ever worked in.
“That just leaves the master bedroom.” Wyatt headed for the French doors on one side of the