How to Lose a Groom in 10 Days by Catherine Mann and Joanne Rock Page B

down the steps.
    His head swiveled automatically.
    On the first floor, a woman raised her arm to point at him.
    “It’s Grady Hollis, the Stars player!” she squealed.
    Crap, crap, crap.
    He thought about searching for a back staircase, but heads were already turning. Other people pointed. The guy in front of him on the stairs halted and spun around.
    “Grady Hollis?” His southern accent drawled thick as he surveyed Grady’s dark suit and tie. “Look here, boys.” The older man yanked on the hands of a couple preschoolers who both wore Stars caps. “It’s the ballplayer you saw with Grampy in spring training last week.”
    Grady searched the pedestrian traffic on the ground floor while a sea of workers heading for lunch break rolled out of the Orange County office buildings. Off to one side, he spotted a flash of white streaking toward the glass doors that led toward the parking lot.
    “Can you sign my shirt, mister?” a tall, lanky kid with a scratchy voice asked from behind his left shoulder, already pulling off his tee.
    “I saw you hit that humdinger at Stars Stadium against the Aces,” someone else shouted from a few steps away—a heavyset guy with a briefcase under his arm and a coffee in one hand. “Do you remember that one? It went right over their centerfielder’s head at the wall.”
    “You’re really a baseball player, young man?” a grandmotherly type with steel-gray hair asked from his right, her weathered hand landing on his suit sleeve and preventing him from taking another step. “We root for the New York team in my house, but I’ll bet my grandson would love to hear how I met a real baseball player.”
    The woman dug in a purse, presumably for a pen, while hats, papers and hands came at him from all sides, pressing him closer to the railing, pinning him onto the staircase with a gridlock of people. Damn it. Melanie wouldn’t just leave him here, would she?
    He grabbed a pen and a hat and started autographing things, making small talk on autopilot. He had no flipping clue what had happened back in the Wedding Room. Melanie had spent the night before at her parents’ place even though they’d been living together for weeks. He hadn’t thought twice about it, figuring all brides were superstitious about not seeing the groom on the day of the wedding until the ceremony. Totally normal, right?
    Except maybe she had looked jittery during the ceremony. Fidgety. Breathing fast. But he’d figured all that was par for the course with brides. She knew he was crazy about her. What had gotten into her?
    “Whatcha all dressed up for?” a teen with a pierced nose asked while she chomped on a piece of gum. “Traffic court? My mom said they don’t care what you wear.”
    Grady kept signing and shuffled down a step as the dad with two little kids moved away. On a good day, Grady could sign autographs for a long time, grateful to work in his dream job and all too aware he was a lucky man. But right now, he needed to get to Melanie.
    “Just watching a buddy tie the knot,” he hedged, determined to keep his nuptials secret or he’d never get out of the building.
    “Oh my God!” the girl squealed and so did ten other nearby women.
    The noise level in the throng around him kicked up a few decibels. And a few octaves.
    “Was it that nice Boone Sullivan?” The gray-haired granny next to him asked about the Stars third baseman, still clutching his arm while fans crowded them both. “He’s supposed to marry a reality show actress.”
    “It wasn’t anyone on the team,” Grady rushed to explain. His teammates were going to string him up by his cleats for starting rumors. “But I’d better catch up to the wedding party now.”
    He signed the grandmother’s coffee shop napkin that she’d found in her bottomless purse and gently disengaged himself. The crowd pressed closer, sensing they were losing him.
    “Just one more!” a handful of people shouted in unison.
    Instead, he dug his phone out