Chapter 6 - Grayson
Grayson
“It’s just one date,” Mason insisted. “Then you never have to see her again. So you might as well enjoy yourself.”
It was a tradition that rookies lived with veterans for their first year on the team. At least, it was a tradition that the San Antonio Surge was trying to implement, considering the team was only two years old at this point. But that meant Mason was crashing with me.
I generally didn’t mind, except that the kid liked to talk my ear off. I just wanted to enjoy a glass of pre-dinner whiskey in peace.
“One date with a fan,” I replied. “I’d rather get a colonoscopy.”
“What’s wrong with fans? They love us!”
“Exactly. Rather than acting like human beings, they treat us like a sports car. Something shiny to take selfies with and brag about on social media.”
Mason helped himself to a glass of whiskey from my bar. “So what? Let them have a ride and enjoy it!” He turned around and gestured with the glass. “In case my analogy wasn’t obvious, the ride is sex.”
I grunted, but said nothing more. I’d had my fair share of meaningless sex since joining the NHL seven years ago. At first, it was nice having countless women worship me, but it got old quickly.
Now, I craved something real.
The problem was that my fame made it impossible to find a normal woman.
Everyone already had a tainted opinion of who I was, and they were attracted to my fame more than anything else about me.
Unless I moved to a country where nobody recognized me, there was almost zero chance of me finding my soulmate, if such a thing even existed.
Tonight was going to be a big waste of my time. And on one of my few nights off, too.
“You’re welcome to go instead of me,” I suggested.
Mason perked up a little. “You think they’d let me?”
“No,” I replied. “I’m not that lucky.”
Hockey players were required to dress up for games, so I had a full wardrobe of designer clothes to choose from. I picked out a charcoal gray suit, the kind I usually wore to press conferences. That’s all this was to me: a publicity event.
Manny, the team photographer, was waiting outside the restaurant when I arrived. He was a no-nonsense kind of guy who rarely wasted anyone’s time. I liked him more than pretty much anyone else on the team.
“Someone understood the assignment!” he said when he saw me. “You’re looking sharp. A little too formal than I would have advised, but the camera will still love you.”
I gave him a fist-bump in greeting. “Just want to get this over with.”
“Amen to that. I hate working Saturday nights.” Manny glanced at his watch.
“Here’s what I’m thinking. The driver is going to drop her off around the corner, so I’ll snap a few photos as she comes around the corner.
She’ll probably fangirl over you, so I’ll wait until she’s calmed down before we get some more normal photos of the two of you.
I need shots of you standing underneath the sign here—we need Carlo’s branding in at least three shots, because they’re sponsoring this. ”
“Of course they are,” I muttered. One thing I had learned about professional sports was that every event was sponsored. Hell, the team had its fleet of SUVs because Cadillac was the official car of the San Antonio Surge.
“I’ll take a few candids during the dinner itself,” Manny continued. “Then a couple more at the end of the night. We’re imagining a polite kiss on the cheek, but that’s not required in the contract.”
“If it’s not required, then I’m not doing it.”
Manny rolled his eyes. “Sorry. Forgot who I was working with. Just see where the night takes you, all right?” He glanced at his watch again. “That’s the driver. He’s letting her out now.”
I took a deep breath and steeled myself for the night to come. I’d made hundreds of publicity appearances in my career, so I knew how to fake it when I needed to. I had zero intention of enjoying it, though.
I just needed to get this over with so I could focus on our game against the Tampa Bay Lightning tomorrow.
“Here we go,” Manny said, raising his camera to his eye.
I turned toward where he was aiming, and gave a start. Her blonde hair caught the light from a nearby street lamp like it had a spotlight of its own. Her dress was light and floral, swaying around her legs with each step, easy and effortless like summer itself had decided to take human form.
She moved with the kind of unintentional grace that made me forget how to breathe for a few seconds.
Manny’s camera clicked away. “Huh. She’s not fangirling.”
“Apparently not,” I replied. Somehow, walking toward me, she felt like something I’d been missing without even realizing it. And she was stunningly beautiful.
Shaking off the feeling, I nodded as she approached. “Are you Josie?”
“Unfortunately,” she replied, getting a good look at me like I was an animal at the zoo. “So, you’re the famous Grayson Steele.”
“Unfortunately.” She wasn’t fangirling at all. If anything, she looked annoyed to be here.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Steele Wall,” she said, extending her hand.
I shook it formally. Was she making fun of my nickname?
“Let’s get this over with,” she said. “We need photos, right? Tell me where to stand. I’m good at following directions.”
Manny and I exchanged a glance, then he positioned us underneath the restaurant sign. Josie and I stood adjacent to each other, not touching or giving any other indication that this was a date. He snapped a few more photos, and then she opened the door and went inside without me.
What was her deal?
Carlo himself was waiting inside to welcome us to his restaurant. Patrons inside stared as we were escorted to our table. It was that way everywhere I went in this town. I was used to it by this point, but I still hated it.
We were seated in a private room partitioned off from the rest of the restaurant. Carlo told us to enjoy our meal, then bowed his head and left us in peace.
Well, not peace, exactly. Manny was there to snap a flurry of photos while we looked at the menu.
“This is fun,” Josie muttered.
I found myself smiling at her. “Welcome to my world.”
“The team is paying for everything, right?”
“Yup,” I replied. “I hope you like wine, because I’m going to order something expensive.”
“I actually prefer beer,” she admitted. “But if someone else is buying? Hell yeah, I’ll drink expensive wine.”
When our server arrived, I selected a bottle of red that cost more than the mortgage payment on my condo.
Then we stared at each other in silence.
“How long have you been a hockey fan?” I asked.
“I’m not.”
Chuckling, I said, “Okay.”
“I’m serious,” she insisted. “I hate hockey.”
“Then why did you sign up for the contest?”
“I didn’t,” she replied.
I laughed, but she didn’t so much as smile. She was being serious. What was going on here?
A long silence stretched. Josie glanced at her phone like she had zero interest in being here. I cleared my throat.
“Ah, I see what’s going on,” I finally said. “Bob put you up to this, didn’t he?”
“Bob?”
“From Marketing,” I said. “He set this up. He told you to pretend like you don’t want to be here, didn’t he?”
“I don’t want to be here,” she insisted.
The server returned with our wine. The bottle was covered in dust, emphasizing just how expensive it was. After giving me a taste, the server filled both glasses and then we ordered our meal.
“What are the two most expensive items on the menu?” Josie asked.
“That would be the butcher’s cut ribeye, and the boar shank special.”
“I’ll take one of each,” Josie said cheerfully.
“Any salads or appetizers?”
“The caesar salad, please,” she replied. “And as for appetizers… You know what? Bring out one of each. We’ll share.”
“Very good, ma’am.”
After placing my order, I raised an eyebrow at Josie. “Getting your money’s worth, huh?”
“This is the part of the date I’m actually looking forward to, yes.” She sniffed the wine, then finished the whole glass in three gulps.
“Now I’m certain Bob put you up to this. Very funny. He got me.” I looked around. “Is the real date waiting somewhere else?”
“I don’t know what to tell you, pal.” Josie refilled her glass, noticed the dust on her fingers from the bottle, then wiped them on a napkin. “I won that contest. Now I just want to get it over with, all right?”
“Get it over with?” I frowned at her. “You cannot be serious.”
“I assure you I am.” She smacked her lips. “This wine is pretty good. How much did it cost?”
“Seven thousand dollars.”
A smile slid onto her lips. “Oh, yeah. Say it again, but slower this time.”
I chuckled. She was hot and funny? Rare combination.
But then she returned her focus to her phone, outright ignoring me. I stared at the beautiful woman across the table. She wasn’t joking. This wasn’t a bit. She legitimately didn’t want to be here.
“This is real?” I asked. “You didn’t want to win the contest, so you’re just here wasting my time?”
“It’s a waste of my time too, buddy.”
“Yeah, but like…” I spread my hands. Was she going to make me say it? “If we’re comparing your time versus my time, one is significantly more valuable.”
She scoffed at me. “Whatever you want to tell yourself. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to close my eyes and savor the wine until our food comes.”
I gritted my teeth and bit back an angry response.
This was the date I was forced to go on?
For fuck’s sake.