Small Town Girls Don't Marry Their Back-Ups - Carol Moncado Page 0,1
it, so she’d stopped - more or less. She’d be asked about it at the book club meeting, though. Madi would need to be prepared for Mama Beach and Mrs. Braverman and whoever else they’d conned into reading one of her books to ask her insane questions.
Maybe she could get Dorrie Jacobs to go with her. Dorrie could take off some of the pressure. Her friend and writing mentor had been through this many times over the years.
Or Jeremiah could come. He knew all about talking to crowds and women loved him - much to Dorrie’s chagrin. He didn’t encourage them, but he’d always been naturally charismatic and charming.
Mr. Brick Wall could probably hold his own, too.
Where had that thought come from?
Madi walked into the diner, grabbed her notebook, and found her favorite booth.
Four scribbled pages later, she sat back, a feeling of euphoria washing over her. Nothing compared to the feeling when characters were talking to you, entrusting you with their stories - their heartbreaks, their victories, their challenges, their defeats. Even the mundaneness of their everyday lives that would never make it onto the page.
Like sitting in a diner scribbling in a notebook.
“You ready?”
Madi looked up to find Derek grinning down at her.
“I wasn’t about to interrupt creative genius.”
Madi managed to quirk a half-smile his direction. “Not sure it’s genius, but it feels good to have writing be fun again.”
He leaned down, supporting himself with his hands flat on the table, a serious look this time. “Here’s a story for you. What does one of the world’s best paid baseball stars do after he manages to lose the biggest series of his career for his team?”
A snort escaped. “I have no idea.” She pointed at him with her pen. “The World Series just ended, and pretty much everyone I know is mad about it.”
A slow grin crossed D’s face. “He comes to a town on the backside of a lake in the middle of nowhere, smack dab in the center of the country. That’s what he does.”
Madi blinked. That was interesting. Wouldn’t a deserted beach in Bali or somewhere be more fitting this time of year?
D straightened. “Maybe he has one of those meet cutes you tried to tell me about. Maybe he finds a good woman who helps him get his mojo back so they don’t lose the Series again the next year.”
The idea had merit. “I’ll let that idea percolate, but in the meantime, bring me my usual?”
D winked as he backed away. “You got it, kid.”
That made Madi laugh, just like it was supposed to. Derek was a couple of years younger than her. But that baseball idea… it might have merit, but would anyone believe that one of baseball’s biggest stars could fall for a small town girl?
That kind of thing just didn’t happen in real life.
Wyatt Carson didn’t want to get recognized, but he knew that was a pipe dream at best.
He probably should have gone much farther away - like a beach in Bali - if he really didn’t want to be seen by someone who knew, and hated, him.
It was a game.
For most people, the stakes were simply bragging rights over friends who preferred other teams.
For him, the stakes had been much higher.
And in the seven biggest games of his life...
He’d choked in every one.
He’d even screamed words his grandmother would have grounded him for, cursing his bout with the yips.
The one thing he hadn’t done was blame anyone else.
At least in his anger and loathing, he’d only taken it out on himself and not on any unfortunate soul.
His swing was off. His timing stunk.
And he couldn’t throw home to save his life.
Or to stop a run by the Speedway Racers, the Indiana team who’d never been to the Series before and played like their lives depended on it.
The big guy at the diner in Trumanville had definitely recognized him. So had several people on the street. They’d glared at him. The diner guy treated him like anyone else.
But the woman…
When Wyatt closed his eyes, he could still feel her feminine curves under his hands as he steadied her. See her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. Smell the flowery scent wafting off her.
And the complete lack of recognition in her eyes.
On most levels that was nicer than the fawning adoration that he normally received.
Sometimes he liked the adulation but ultimately, it left him feeling empty.
Those people, those women, never saw him for who he really was.