Chapter 10 Grayson
Grayson
“Do it!” I shouted. “Shoot!”
Mason skated next to me, maneuvering the puck back and forth with his hockey stick. Showing off. Finally he shot the puck, sending it into the upper corner of the goal.
But the goaltender easily caught it with his glove.
“Fuck,” Mason cursed.
I cut my skates hard, skidding to a stop. “We talked about this. You’re too predictable. You need to vary your shots more.”
“I know.”
“Shoot sooner, shoot from the left side, shoot for the five-hole. You always aim for the upper corners. You need to keep the goaltender on his toes, even if it means taking a shot you don’t like. Let me show you.”
I spent the next five minutes taking shots at the goalie, showing Mason how it was done. My legs burned by the end, but I thought I got my point across.
“Damn, Captain,” the goalie said, removing his mask afterward. “You’re shooting angry today. That last one almost burned a hole through my glove.”
“I’m fine,” I replied, which wasn’t true. Two days had passed since my not-date with Josie, and I was still upset by the whole thing. I usually hated when fans worshiped me, but somehow having Josie treat me the opposite was worse. She’d stormed out of our date like she had better things to do.
And the more I thought about it, the more pissed off I got.
I knew it was stupid to feel this way. It was some reverse psychology bullshit. Like an adult telling a child they couldn’t have pizza for dinner, all I could think about now was a nice slice of pepperoni.
She was an irritation in my life. A pebble in my skate, rubbing me the wrong way with every single step.
“Your turn,” I told Mason. “Show me.”
Before he could, a voice boomed over the loudspeaker in the arena. “Grayson Steele, please report to Robert Trent’s office.”
“Ignore that,” I told Mason, pulling my mask back down. “Give me five more shots on goal.”
The message was repeated over the loudspeaker a minute later. Several teammates looked at me.
“I’m busy!” I shouted at the ceiling, my voice echoing in the cavernous space. “Mason. Let’s go.”
He only got one more shot off before the lights in the arena went off, bathing us in darkness. My teammates practicing across the ice groaned and yelled in annoyance.
The loudspeaker voice returned: “Practice is suspended until your Captain leaves the ice.”
“Come on, Grayson,” someone in the darkness yelled. “Stop being stubborn.”
“Better get it over with,” Mason said. “You’ve been sent to the principal’s office.”
“If only,” I muttered before skating off the ice.
I took my sweet time removing my skates and pads. For a brief moment, I was tempted to just leave. Get in my car and drive home. But that would probably only make things worse, and I wanted to get this over with.
When I reached the suite that Bob used as an office, I discovered that he wasn’t alone—there was another man sitting in a chair in the corner, his hands clasped in his lap.
“Grayson, this is Mr. Hartinger, a member of our in-house legal team,” Bob introduced. “He will be sitting in on this meeting today.”
Shit. That was a bad sign.
“Please, have a seat,” Bob gestured.
“I’m fine standing,” I replied. “Let’s get this over with. What’s so important that you had to interrupt my practice?”
Bob cleared his throat. “Your date with Josie Harper the other night. You did not fulfill your obligations.”
Hearing her name out loud sent a nostalgic shiver up my spine. She appeared in my head against my will, swirling expensive wine in her glass while shifting in her seat, giving me a better view of her ample cleavage. My cock twitched at the memory.
“I fulfilled my obligations,” I insisted. “She is the one who bailed on the date early. I stayed at the restaurant and finished my meal. Manny can vouch for me—he stayed and ate Josie’s dinner for her. He and I had a great time on the rest of the date.”
“I’m not doing this with you,” Bob said in an exasperated tone. “I won’t argue technicalities or bargain with you. I’m telling you: you’re going on another date with her. A full one this time, until we say it’s over.”
My laughter filled the suite.
“What do you find so funny?” Bob asked.
“You can make me do it, because you’ve got me by the balls.
Fair enough. But I can tell you right now: you will never convince that woman to go on another date.
In fact, it’s so unlikely, that I’ll say it in front of Mr. Lawyer over there: if you can convince Josie, then I’ll go along with it. I won’t fight you at all.”
It was the killing blow. The cutting comment that should have summoned one of Bob’s famous scowls.
But he grinned.
“That’s the thing. She’s already agreed to it.”
I gave a start. “What? No she hasn’t.”
“She most certainly has. She signed the paperwork yesterday while working the Spurs game.” He picked up a piece of paper from the table and waved it in the air.
I stared at him, at the piece of paper, then at the lawyer. “Fuck.”
“For the first time in my career, I’m happy to hear you say that,” Bob said cheerfully. “Your next date is Thursday. The two of you are going to a Spurs game together. You won’t even have to talk to each other—all you have to do is smile and watch the game. Surely even you can do that.”
“Thursday? We leave for our road trip Friday morning.”
“You can sleep on the flight.”
I gritted my teeth. I had walked right into a trap. I shouldn’t have been so cocky about Josie.
Why did she agree to another date? Does she actually want to see me again?
“Fine,” I said, biting off the word.
“Oh, and there’s one more thing,” Bob added. “We want you to ask her out.”
“But you just said she already agreed to the date.”
“Yes, well, this is the marketing department. So we’re going to do a little marketing.” His smile deepened. “Here’s how you’re going to ask her.”
By the time he was done explaining what I had to do, I wished I had gone home after all.