In the interest of being honest with herself, no one revved her fangirl engine like Wells Whitaker, her perpetually aggravated escort, but he didn’t need to know that. Now that she was his caddie, any fanlike behavior would be unprofessional. After five years of devotion, however, she couldn’t quash Whitaker fever completely, so she’d painted a tiny tribute on her toenails, just to keep the spirit alive.
