Chapter 5 - Josie
Josie
“You’re going to have such a good time!” Sharon insisted from the bedroom.
I was standing in my walk-in closet, trying on clothes for the date. Nothing looked good on me tonight. It didn’t help that I wanted to put on sweatpants and fall asleep on the couch rather than go on this dumb date.
“No matter how often you say that, it doesn’t make it any more true,” I called to her.
“It’s called the power of positive thinking. If you tell yourself you’re going to have a good time, you will!”
“Not everyone is so easily swayed,” I muttered while glancing at my phone. My latest TikTok video had gone live ten minutes ago, and I was anxiously awaiting the number of views and clicks to update. The first hour of a video was the most crucial in terms of getting the algorithm to notice you.
“I don’t understand why you’re so resistant to this,” Sharon said.
“Because I have to fake smile for my job,” I complained. “I don’t want to have to do it in my personal time, too.”
“Okay, then treat it like a job,” Sharon argued. “A few hours of your time in exchange for a big paycheck. They’re giving you ten grand for this, right?”
“Right.”
“There you go! Think of this as a shift at the concession stand. Except instead of getting paid minimum wage plus tips, you’re getting…” There was a pause as she did some mental math. “You’re getting paid, like, five grand per hour!”
“You make a compelling point,” I admitted, stepping out of the closet. “What do we think of this?”
She frowned at my outfit. “That top does nothing for you. And those jeans are too baggy.”
I returned to the closet and began changing into another outfit. “I guess I can fake smile for one night.”
“What are you going to do with the money?” Sharon asked.
“Pay off my car loan,” I replied without hesitation.
In the bedroom, Sharon groaned. “That’s not a fun answer.”
“It’s a responsible answer. My car payment is my second biggest bill. If that’s out of the way, all I have to worry about are rent and utilities.”
“When do they pay you?”
“Within forty-eight hours of the event ending,” I replied. “I signed a contract for the whole thing.”
“Nothing says sexy first date like paperwork,” she muttered.
“Exactly. Now you’re understanding why I’m so bleh about the whole thing.”
“It’s still a date with Grayson Freaking Steele. That you’re getting paid to go on. There are approximately ten trillion women in this city who would kill to switch places with you.”
“I think you’re overestimating how many people live in San Antonio.”
“I’m a TikTok chef, not a mathematician.”
I walked out of the closet and gestured down at myself. “What about this?”
Sharon groaned. “You look like you’re going on a date under duress.”
“Perfect. That’s the look I’m going for.”
“Oh come on!” Sharon jumped up from the bed. “Wear something fun. They’re sending a photographer to document the whole thing, right? Don’t you want to look good? These photos might be in, like, tabloids and stuff!”
I didn’t care about any of that. I just wanted to get this over with and collect my money.
But I didn’t get a lot of chances to dress nicely these days. Especially at a fancy restaurant. Most of my dates started with casual coffee.
Sharon pulled a dress off the rack. “Wear this. With those black boots. Show off those legs, girl!”
I sighed. “Fine. You wore me down.”
An hour later, a suited valet held the door open for me so I could climb into the back of a black SUV. The seats were leather and it smelled like a brand new car.
“I bet you’re excited,” he said from the front seat while driving me to the restaurant.
“So excited,” I replied sarcastically.
“My daughters entered the contest,” he went on. “They’re both married, and one of them has three kids, but that didn’t stop them. A date with Grayson Steel?” He chuckled. “That’s like a guy winning a date with Taylor Swift or Sabrina Carpenter.”
That was an extreme exaggeration—Grayson Steele wasn’t anywhere close to being as famous as those two pop stars. But I said nothing, because I didn’t want to continue the conversation. Talking about the date was even less fun than going on the date itself.
My phone buzzed on the way to dinner.
Mom: Are you excited about the date? I’m so excited and I’m not even going!
Me: How did you find out about it?
Mom: Bethany told me. You don’t know her but she’s in my book club. Everyone was talking about it today. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I’m always the last one to find out what you’re doing.
Me: I didn’t tell you because it’s not a big deal. I just want to get it over with.
Mom: You’re such a downer! Beth says this Grayson boy is famous. I searched for him on the internet. He’s hot!
Me: Please don’t do this, Mom.
Mom: He has a Roman nose and a perfect jawline. And blue eyes!
Me: Don’t say what you’re going to say next.
Mom: You two would have beautiful babies together..
Me: Aaaaaand you said it. I’m done talking about this. I’ll call you on the way home.
Mom: Don’t get upset at me for picturing my future grandchildren! It’s my right as a mother!
I groaned and switched my phone to Do Not Disturb as we pulled into the restaurant parking lot. It was a place called Carlo’s, an Italian steakhouse that was so far out of my price range I never even allowed myself to look at the menu. At least I would be getting a nice meal out of this.
And if I was being totally honest? A small part of me was curious about seeing a professional athlete up close. It was like getting a private visit with a zoo gorilla.
I snickered at the analogy. It probably wasn’t fair to compare hockey players to gorillas.
But it wasn’t that far off.
The driver double-parked on the side of the restaurant, then hurried around the side to open my door for me. “They’re waiting for you out front. Have a great time!” he told me as I stepped out.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
I walked around the edge of the building toward the entrance. There was a nervous flutter in my stomach, the same kind I got when I was excited about a date.
I told myself it had to do with the circumstances of the date, and not the date itself.
Yet when I rounded the corner of the building, and Grayson Steele came into view, I stopped in my tracks.
He was impossible to miss, leaning casually against the brick wall outside the restaurant, a study in sharp lines and quiet confidence.
His three-piece suit clung to his tall frame like it had been tailored just for him—probably because it was.
The charcoal gray fabric set off the sun-kissed tones of his sandy blond hair.
A thin beard traced the edge of his jaw, too neatly kept to be accidental.
Grayson glanced up at me, and I caught a flicker of something behind his cool gaze—curiosity, or maybe amusement. His eyes, a striking shade of seafoam green, slid down my body like a caress.
He didn’t look like a hockey player. He looked like two hundred pounds of muscle dressed in designer wool.
And as much as I hated to admit it: he looked good.
Steele Wall indeed.
Shut up, vagina, I told myself. It’s just one date. Then I never have to see him again.