Chapter 3
Josie
Present Day
When I heard my name called over the loudspeakers in the arena, my heart skipped a beat. Not caring about the beer I had dropped, I whipped my head toward the huge TV screen that hung above the rink.
My name was listed, along with a picture of my face.
This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be.
“For fuck’s sake…” the customer near me cursed. “Are you going to clean that up?”
“I…” I looked at him, then down at the beer. It was slowly running down the steps toward the bottom of the section.
“Wait a minute,” he said, glancing at the screen. “Isn’t that you?” He pointed at my name tag. “You’re Josie! That is you!”
He turned to his friend and said something, then both of them were staring at me. And my freaking face was up on the jumbotron, looking out at the arena. It was too much for me, so I hefted the beer backpack and fled up the stairs.
“Hey! Are you going to clean this up or what?” was the last thing I heard the customer demand.
My heartbeat was racing by the time I got to the top of the section. It felt like everyone in the arena was staring at me, although I knew it was my imagination. Somehow, I was even sweating in the freezing arena.
This couldn’t be happening.
I hurried through the tunnel underneath the arena and returned to the concession stand. Sharon was grinning like an idiot, which was all the confirmation I needed.
“You signed me up!” I yelled at her.
“Yes! And you won! Can you believe it?”
She threw her arms around me in a tight hug.
“I’m going to kill you,” I said. “That’s not a figure of speech. I’m literally going to jam a pretzel down your throat until you choke.”
She cackled with laughter. “Stop being dramatic. Don’t you realize how amazing this is?”
“JOSIE!” my boss yelled. “Janitorial just called. You dropped a beer in section 118 and just left it there?”
Sharon pointed at the television. “She won the contest! She won a date with Grayson Steele!”
My boss’s eyes widened. “You won? I thought employees weren’t allowed to enter contests like those.”
“They’re not allowed,” I agreed, glaring at Sharon. “Someone else signed me up against my will.”
My boss looked confused for a moment, then flashed a smile. “Forget about section 118. Carter will clean it up. Go talk to someone about the contest! I’m not even gay, but if I won a date with Grayson Steele…” He stared off wistfully.
“I’ll be back in ten minutes,” I told Sharon. “And when I am, I’m expecting the world’s most sincere apology from you. Or our friendship is over.”
“You don’t mean that. You love me.”
“We’ll see in ten minutes,” I warned, then left the concession area.
I felt deeply embarrassed by the whole thing as I walked to the customer service desk. Even though it wasn’t my fault, I doubted the people in charge of the contest would care. They would blame me for it. I might even lose my job over it.
Sharon wouldn’t be smiling then.
The man at the customer service desk called someone on his walkie-talkie, and then a security guard escorted me through the arena to one of the employee booths up on the club level. “You must be pretty excited,” he said while scanning his security badge at a door. “Grayson Steele… wow. I mean wow.”
“So excited,” I muttered.
I had worked in the club-level suites a few times before, but this one was larger and more elegantly decorated than the others.
A buffet of food covered two tables against the wall, with a dedicated employee standing there ready to serve any of the handful of people in the room.
There was also a bartender mixing a drink for two older women in the other corner.
The far end of the room opened up to the arena, with two rows of seats for people who wanted to watch the game.
Two men were seated on a leather sofa inside the room. One of them immediately got up and approached as we entered. “You must be Josie Harper, the lucky winner. Congratulations! I’m Bob Trent, the Director of Marketing for the Surge.”
He extended his hand, but I didn’t shake it. “I’m sorry, but there’s been a mistake. Someone else signed me up for the contest. I’m not interested in a date with any hockey player.”
“Well, it’s not just any hockey player. It’s Grayson Steele!” He glanced down at my clothes. “Your uniform… do you work here?”
“I sell beer, yeah,” I answered. “So I’m probably not even eligible for the contest. Like I said, someone else signed me up. If you can go ahead and pick a different winner and announce it on the screen, I’ll go back to my job.”
“Oh. Oh no.” Bob’s face twisted in a frown. “This is not good. Your name was already announced. It’s been posted to social media.”
“Along with my face. I know. My friend uploaded a photo of me against my will. Pick someone else.”
“Ah. Yes. Well, team employees are indeed ineligible for any team contests or giveaways. Let me see what we can do.” He pulled out his phone.
I let out a sigh of relief. This was all just a big misunderstanding, one that was about to be righted. Then I could go back to my job and never think about this again.
The other man sitting on the couch cleared his throat. “She is not an employee of the team,” he said in a soft, but firm, voice. A voice that was used to giving commands and having them followed. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t figure out why.
Bob’s eyes widened. “You sell beer. That means you’re a contractor through the Frost Bank Arena. Technically, you’re not employed by the team!”
“That seems like a technicality,” I said. “Pick someone else. I don’t want to be the winner.”
“You don’t want to go on a date with Grayson Steele?” Bob asked, incredulous.
“That is what I said, yes.”
“She’s perfect,” the man on the couch said.
Bob looked at the man on the couch, then back at me. That’s when I realized how I knew the older man.
He was the owner of the San Antonio Surge.
“She’s perfect,” he repeated to Bob. “Think of the marketing angle. A beer girl working in the stands wins a date with our star player. It’s a real Cinderella story. The two of them have been in the same room, each doing their jobs without realizing fate was sending them toward each other!”
“Beer woman, not girl,” I corrected. “And I want to keep doing my job. So if you could stop talking about me like I’m not standing in the room, that’d be great.” Remembering who the man was, I quickly added, “Um, sir.”
He ignored me and spoke to Bob. “I don’t want to announce a different winner. I don’t like backtracking. Josie will go on a date with Grayson, sponsored by the team.”
“Uh, no she won’t,” I said. “You can’t just force me to do something against my will.”
Even as I said the words, I realized I was arguing with one of the richest, most powerful men in town. If he wanted to, he absolutely could force me to go on the date by threatening my job at the arena. All he had to do was pull a few strings and my life could be ruined.
A chill ran up my spine which had nothing to do with the temperature in the arena.
The owner of the team gave me a kind, almost grandfatherly smile. “I must admit I’m surprised by your resistance. No matter. On behalf of the San Antonio Surge, I would be happy to sweeten the deal with a one-time cash prize. Ten thousand dollars.”
I blinked at him. “Ten grand?”
“To fulfill the obligation you agreed to by signing up for the contest, yes,” he said calmly. “It was all spelled out on the contest website. Of course, if you didn’t sign up for the contest, then we can pursue legal action against whoever did. Oh, what a mess that would be.”
There it was. The stick to go along with the carrot. If I refused, then Sharon might be in legal trouble. I seriously doubted they would go after her like that rather than simply announce a different winner, but…
Ten thousand dollars, I thought. For a woman working concessions at a sports arena, that was a massive chunk of cash.
And all I had to do was go on a date with a millionaire bachelor.
“Fine,” I said, clenching my jaw. “I’ll do it.”