A door opened along the wall and Luke stepped out. He grinned when he saw Wyatt and held out a hand for a shake.
“Ready for your first day?” Luke asked.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“The guys are great. You’ll fit right in.” He walked backward down the hallway. “They’re doing the first shoot for the commercial after practice, right?”
Yeah, because meeting the team and having his first practice with the Coyotes wasn’t enough stress for one day. “Yup.”
“Can’t wait to see the footage. It’s going to be great.” Luke waved and then disappeared around a corner.
Wyatt shook his head and pushed open the door to the locker room. He just had to take today one step at a time. Right now, all he had to do was find his locker and say hello to whoever was nearby.
The Coyotes locker room had a low ceiling and peeling paint, with narrow lockers crammed next to each other—a definite step down from the sleek lines and open space he’d enjoyed with the Vigilantes. Men stood around the room in various states of dress, laughing and talking as they discussed what they’d done while on break.
Wyatt made his way around the periphery of the room until he found the locker where his new jersey hung proudly, the name James prominently displayed on the back alongside his number. The gold and blue looked out of place after three seasons of black and green.
You’re making the best of the situation, he reminded himself. He had his truck, his writing, and soon he’d have a new house. Things weren’t all bad.
A man dropped his duffel bag in the locker next to Wyatt’s. He was tall and muscular, with dark skin and a shaved head. Tattoos covered both arms. “You must be James.”
“That’s me,” Wyatt said.
“I’m Tyrone Miller.” He held out a hand and pulled Wyatt in for quick back clap. “Good to meet you.”
“You too.” The band squeezing Wyatt’s chest relaxed ever so slightly. He’d had his first introduction, which was always the hardest part of a new team.
“You’re gonna like California,” Tyrone said with confidence. “Don’t you be thinking ‘bout those Vigilantes for a minute. They may have more wins, but we got McKinley now and everything’s gonna change.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
A tall man with sun-bronzed skin, shaggy blond hair, and tightly coiled muscles paused just inside the locker room and held up his hands. “Schroeder in the house!” he yelled, then let out a hoot.
Half a dozen men hooted in response, and then started whipping each other with their shirts. Schroeder slapped their butts and made his way to the other side of the room.
Cortney Schroeder was one of the few exceptional players on the Coyotes and it looked like he knew it. Why were quarterbacks always so blasted arrogant? They acted like the sun rose and set on their command.
Tyrone rolled his eyes and pulled cleats out of his duffel bag. “Let me give you a piece of advice, James.”
“Okay,” Wyatt said easily.
“Whatever you do, don’t get on Schroeder’s bad side. He’ll make your life miserable in practice.”
Wyatt gave a sharp nod, grinding his teeth together in frustration. He’d hoped to escape the Drews of the world in California, but it seemed he’d asked the universe for too much.
“Let me introduce you around,” Tyrone said. “We’ve got some good guys on the team.”
“Thanks.” Wyatt offered Tyrone a genuine smile. His locker mate’s friendliness went a long way to easing Wyatt’s anxieties.
As Tyrone made introductions, Wyatt felt himself loosening up. The other guys welcomed him with friendly smiles and seemed genuinely happy to have him on the team. But then Tyrone paused in front of Schroeder’s locker.
When Tyrone spoke, his tone was flat. “This is Schroeder.”
“Wyatt James, in the flesh. Never thought I’d be on a team with you.” Schroeder held out a fist and Wyatt reluctantly nudged it with his own. “Team party at my house this weekend. If you don’t show up, I’ll take it as a personal insult.”
“Sounds great,” Wyatt said with feigned enthusiasm. “Send me the deets and I’ll be there.”
“Awesome. Any lady friends are more than welcome to accompany you.” Schroeder backed away and pointed his fingers at Wyatt. “Saturday.”
“Saturday,” Wyatt agreed, the word souring in his mouth.
“If you don’t show up, he really will make your life miserable,” Tyrone muttered as they walked out of the locker room. “I’ll pick you up at the hotel and we can drive over together. His house is kind of hard to find in the dark.”
“Thanks,” Wyatt said. At least he’d made one friend today.
Conditioning with the team went well, and by the end of the practice, Wyatt felt as though he’d begun tentative friendships with a few of the guys, Tyrone included. Back in the locker room, he took his time showering. He didn’t want the other guys, especially the veterans of the team, to know he’d been chosen as the face of the up and coming marketing campaign. Telling them he was headed back to the field for his first shoot felt like an awkward way to end his first day.
The room was nearly empty when Wyatt made his way back to his locker, but Tyrone was still packing his bag.
“You leaving, James?” Tyrone asked.
“Not yet.” Wyatt ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve got a few things to do first.”
Tyrone raised an eyebrow. “Okay.”
Wyatt slowly zipped his bag closed. It would probably be more awkward now if he said nothing, because eventually Tyrone would find out. “Mr. Ryder asked me to help with the new marketing campaign. He’s running a few commercials and ads to try and up ticket sales. I’m meeting the crew on the field in ten minutes.”
Schroeder popped out of the showers, a towel slung around his waist. Wyatt tensed. How had he not realized Schroeder was still here?
“What’s that, James?” Schroeder demanded.
Wyatt eyed him warily. “It’s nothing.”
“Seems like TV spots should be reserved for the quarterback.”
“Just doing what I’m told.” Wyatt held up his hands. “Trust me, I didn’t ask for the screen time.”
Schroeder’s jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. But finally he grunted and walked away.
Tyrone clapped Wyatt on the shoulder and shook his head. “Is Mr. Ryder trying to paint a target on your back?”
“No kidding.”
Tyrone jerked his thumb toward where Schroeder had just stormed out. “Good luck with that.”
“Yeah.”
“See you tomorrow.” Tyrone saluted and left.
It took a few more minutes for Wyatt to convince himself to head out to the field. In had been totally transformed in the forty minutes since practice ended. Artificial lights were hoisted up on tall poles and cameras on dollies were positioned at various angles around the fifty yard line.
Wyatt swallowed hard, fighting the urge to run back into the locker room. He could throw a football all day, but talking to a camera felt like a herculean task.
A woman in a loose-fitting white blouse with trendy red glasses crossed the field. Wyatt winced as her spiky heels dug into the soft grass of the field. She didn’t seem to notice or care and latched onto his arm. “Come with me, Mr. James,” she said, her tone light and airy. “Hair and makeup is this way, then I’ll send you over to wardrobe.”
Wyatt reached up, running a hand across his closely cropped locks. What were they going to do, curl it?
The woman laughed, as though sensing the direction of his thoughts. “Don’t worry, you’ll still feel like yourself when we’re done.”
Like he’d ever feel comfortable in makeup.
Two hours later, Wyatt most definitely did not feel like himself. He was starting to sweat under the intense heat of the lights and the director was struggling to hid his growing frustration.
“You’re too tense, Wyatt.” The director rose from his chair and walked across
the field. The man was probably in his mid-fifties, with a sole patch and shaved scalp. He rolled his shoulders. “Take a few deep breaths. Try to relax. It’s only a few lines.”
Relax. Yeah, right. But Wyatt took a deep breath, then nodded. “Okay. Let’s try again.”
The director took his chair. “Action!”
Wyatt gave a strained smile and began walking down the field, the football clutched in one arm. “Hi.” His tone sounded flat even to his own ears. “I’m Wyatt James, the newest offensive lineman for the Los Angeles Coyotes.” He finished reciting the memorized script, then paused as he’d been directed for the final frame.
“Cut.” The director rubbed his eyes, then sighed. “That’s a wrap for today, folks.”
Wyatt’s shoulders slumped. “I told Mr. Ryder I was no good at this.”
The director clapped Wyatt on the shoulder. “You’re doing great.”
Wyatt snorted.
“You’re doing okay,” the director amended. “I think we’ve got enough footage for this piece. We can start working on the next one tomorrow.”
Wyatt nodded. The evening had been a complete disaster and he’d totally failed Luke and Coach McKinley. Was there such a thing as an acting tutor? Because he definitely needed one.
Twenty minutes later, he slipped on his jacket and pulled his phone out of his duffel bag to check for messages.
Sent a few new listings to you, Landon texted. Julie’s still in the hospital, but Tamera is happy to take you to any of them. Really sorry to be so flaky.
Tamera. Just the sight of her name had Wyatt’s stomach doing roller coasters.
He tapped his phone against his leg and glanced around at the crew busily dismantling the equipment that had been used to shoot the worst TV commercial in the history of ever. Tamera had been flawless on Eye in the Sky. Maybe he should ask her for a few pointers. Seemed like he’d be seeing more of her than he’d planned.
He quickly texted Landon back. Don’t worry about it. I’ll let Tamera know if I want to see any of the listings.
It was probably a good idea to go check out the properties regardless of whether he wanted to make an offer. He needed to get an idea of what was available in his price range and what compromises he might have to make. The fact that Tamera would take him to the showings was beside the point.
Back at the hotel, he perused the five new listing and was pleasantly surprised. Landon had done well—Wyatt was very interested in at least two of them. He quickly texted Tamera before he could talk himself out of it.
Landon said you might be able to take me to a few properties.
Absolutely. :) Which ones did you want to see?
He sent her the listing numbers, along with his availability that week.
I’ll let you know when I’ve got them scheduled, Tamera responded.
Thanks.
Wyatt set his phone down on the small desk in his hotel room and raised his arms above his head. This was about seeing houses—nothing more, nothing less. If it happened to come up, he might ask Tamera for a few pointers on how to make the TV spots go better.
This was strictly professional. He’d make sure to keep it that way.
CHAPTER NINE
Tamera pushed herself to run faster on the treadmill and focused on keeping her breathing even and steady. The condo gym only held two other people and thankfully neither were paying attention to her.
She hadn’t gotten the part. Helpless frustration made her ribs ache every time she thought about it. She’d really given her all in that audition, but Hershel said that in the end they’d decided to go with someone more experienced.
Experienced. Ha! If twelve weeks in the Eye in the Sky house wasn’t experience, then Tamera didn’t know what was. She’d put on the performance of her life every day on that show just to stay in the game. And it had worked for ninety-one days.
Her feet thudded rhythmically against the treadmill belt as her thoughts turned to the other stress occupying most of her attention these days—Wyatt. They were meeting tomorrow afternoon to look at houses again. What was it about him that made her lose all rational thought?
Maybe football players were her kryptonite and she’d never realized it until now. She’d gotten drunk on that football date with Luke Ryder and started a fight with the frat boys from the opposing team in the row behind them. That had ended with Luke getting drenched in beer and Tamera being the punchline of late night television jokes for months. Next she’d gotten trapped into a showmance with Drew on Eye in the Sky. And okay, maybe that hadn’t been an awful decision. He was a good friend, after all. But ultimately her alliance with the formidable Drew had gotten her voted off the show right before the finale. And now she was daydreaming about Wyatt, a guy she’d been warned to stay away from.
Wait. Maybe football wasn’t the common denominator. Maybe it was Caleb. All of those things had happened because of him, too. She wouldn’t have gotten drunk on her date with Luke if she hadn’t just found out about Caleb’s engagement to Katie. She wouldn’t have gone on Eye in the Sky if not for becoming an internet sensation because of the Luke date. And she never would’ve met Wyatt if she hadn’t been in San Antonio for Katie and Caleb’s wedding.
Okay, so maybe some of those were a bit of a stretch. Whatever.
Her rubbery legs protested each step and she realized she’d ran nearly twelve miles now. At least all this stress had one positive side effect. She hadn’t exercised this much in months.
Why wouldn’t Drew just tell her what was so awful about Wyatt? It would be so much easier to get him out of her head if she knew why she should. Wyatt’s shy grin and easy manner were breaking through her defenses, despite her best efforts to keep them up.
Back in her condo she took a long shower, wishing the painfully hot spray could wash away her conflicting emotions as easily as it washed away her sweat. She grabbed her phone, ready to spend an hour on social media, but frozen when she saw the blinking text icon. The contact had been deleted from her phone a long time ago, but she’d recognize that number anywhere.
Why was Caleb texting her while on his honeymoon?
She clicked open the text, trepidation making her heart pound so hard she worried she’d puke. The three words he’d texted sent panic through her entire being.
I miss you.
Her hands shook and she dropped the phone into her lap as her breath came in quick gasps. She tapped her forehead with a finger and muttered, “Think, think, think.”
She should ignore the text completely, like he’d ignored her for the past year. He was her brother-in-law, for heaven’s sake. She’d been the maid of honor at his wedding. Had that really only been a week ago?
She had to know why he was contacting her now, after everything they’d been through. After so much time.
Why are you texting me? Her fingers shook so badly that it took three tries to get all the words spelled correctly. She glanced at the clock. What time was it in the Bahamas? Where was Katie?
The answer was almost immediate. I made a mistake.
Tears blurred Tamera’s vision and she blinked quickly to try and force them back. She’d dreamed for months of hearing those words, but now they only made her physically sick. It’s a little late for that.
I should never have cheated on you with Katie.
She let out a hollow laugh, her fingers flying over the keyboard. No kidding.
Things were new and exciting with her.
Translation: things had become boring between them. Tamera blinked, refusing to let the tears fall. She’d liked finally being in a relationship were she was comfortable wearing ratty pajamas and no makeup for a night in.
You shouldn’t text me anymore, Tamera said. You made your choice. Now you’ve got to live with it.
We’ll be back from our honeymoon next week. I could suggest taking a trip to California to visit you. Katie misses you. I think she’d go for it.
Tamera cover her mouth, fighting back the bile that rose in her
throat. How had she dated him for three years and never seen his true colors? That will NEVER EVER happen. I won’t do to Katie what she did to me.
I think I still love you.
I’m not a cheater. And if I ever did love you—and I’m not sure that I did—you killed that the moment you slept with my sister.
I can’t stop thinking about you.
Tamera clenched her phone so hard she worried it might break. She leaned her head against the back of the couch, feeling like the temperature had suddenly dropped twenty degrees. You’re on your honeymoon. With my sister. Do you seriously not see how messed up that is?
I said I was sorry. What more do you want?
Don’t ever text me again. Her hands shook so badly that it took two tries to finally push send.
She sat there in her silent condo, trembling as the adrenaline left her body. Not once in her life had she ever fallen for someone who was anything but bad news. She’d thought Toujour was the answer to her horrendous taste in men, but that had ended in disaster, too.
Maybe there was some truth to Drew’s claims that Wyatt was bad news. Why else would she be crushing on him?
In the next moment, she was calling Drew. When he picked up, she could hear loud music pulsing in the background. She glanced at the clock. What party would he be to at two in the afternoon? That meant it was only noon in Texas.
At the moment, she didn’t care. “He’s texting me,” she blurted before Drew could even say hello.
“Whoa.” She heard a door close and the music died away. “Slow down. What are you talking about?”
“Caleb.” She bit her lip and brushed back the traitorous tear that escaped down her cheek. “They’re still on their honeymoon and he’s trying to get back together with me. After a year of radio silence. An entire year! Can you believe it? I just…” She growled, unable to put her swirling feelings into words.
“Wait, he’s texting you? Did he say that he wants you back?”
“Sort of.”
“So he’s leaving Katie?”
She laughed, running a shaking hand through her hair. “Oh no. He wants to have his cake and eat it, too.”
Drew swore on the other end of the line. “That’s messed up.”
Match Me if You Can (No Match for Love Book 7) Page 7
