Page 45 of Game Day

"Nah, it's public, but there won't be a problem. I booked us two campsites together." Miles says that as if it's going to make a difference.

Maybe he’s right. Could be I'm worn out from what we've been dealing with in terms of public pressure and interest, and we can have a quiet night just the guys, staring up at the stars.

The sound of a muted shriek has me turning to find a half dozen women, one dressed in white with a sash across her chest.

“Ohmigod, it’s the Kodiaks!” she gasps, grabbing her friend’s arm.

It’s a bachelorette. Go figure.

“Where you guys from?” Rookie asks before I can get us out of there.

“Vegas,” they chorus.

“Can we take pictures?” the bride begs.

“Come on, Clay. They came all the way from Vegas,” Miles insists.

“Just one,” I concede.

We pose with the girls. One turns into three turns into more, and a crowd is starting to gather.

“Man, we’re bigger than Taylor Swift right now,” Miles crows as we finish.

One of the girls bounces on her heels. “Guys, I just posted this to social and it’s blowing up!”

Shit.

My phone rings, and the call display makes my brows rise.

“Yeah?” I grunt.

“Clay, it’s the mayor. I hope you don’t mind that I got your number from James.” My hand tightens on the handset, but she keeps going before I can respond. “One of my staff tipped me off that you’re at the Garden of the Gods. Will you be there for another hour? I can have a camera crew there shortly.”

“No cameras,” I grit out.

“But you're at a Colorado landmark! It's the perfect photo op."

“I said I’d promote the region, and I will. Just not two days before my wedding.” I click off and turn back to the guys.

“Everything good?” Jay asks.

“Yeah, fine. But we can’t stick around here,” I say, glancing toward the road. “If we’re lucky, we’ve got ten minutes before every tourist in the park finds us.”

It’s worse.

Five minutes later, the park descends into chaos.

Crowds of people everywhere pour into the landscape.

When we’re on team business, there’s security with us, but this was just supposed to be low key.

A group of short fans in purple swarm us. Kids, I realize.

“Guys, no pics today—” I say as I scan the horizon to look for an exit route, but they interrupt.

"We don't want pics. We're here to rescue you.”

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