Chapter 27
Josie
Grayson was all business after the moment we shared on the ice, focusing on showing me how to hold a hockey stick and the best way to maneuver it while skating around the rink.
But I could still feel his fingers wrapped around my wrists, pinning my arms to the side and smiling down at me.
I hated feeling helpless. I loathed those women who wanted a big strong man to take care of them and make them feel protected. It was all so damn stereotypical.
My lady parts were practically singing while he was on top of me, though. If he had made a move, I would have let him rip my clothes off and fuck me right there on the ice, even though the camera dudes were watching from the stands.
Fortunately, trying to maintain my balance in a pair of ice skates required one hundred percent of my attention.
Once I got the hang of skating with a stick in my hand, Grayson added a puck to the mix.
We started off by standing a few feet apart, passing the puck back and forth.
It was a lot heavier than it looked from up in the stands, and gave me a new respect for the amount of strength required to shoot it during a game.
Then Grayson skated over to the goal. “All right, here’s your final exam. Try to score a goal.”
“Shouldn’t you be wearing pads and a mask?” I asked.
Grayson smirked at me. “I think I’ll be fine.”
I wouldn’t have admitted it to him, but skating while dribbling a puck was extremely difficult. The first few times I tried, I didn’t even get a chance to shoot the puck—I kept losing control of it. Rather than making fun of me, Grayson actually shouted words of encouragement.
When hockey players shot the puck during a game, it flew through the air with blistering speed.
Yet when I eventually collected enough coordination to shoot it?
It slid across the ice in slow motion. It took about ten seconds to travel twenty feet, and Grayson slowly turned his head to watch it miss the goal and bump into the wall.
“We’re getting somewhere now,” he announced, retrieving the puck and passing it back to me. “Try again.”
There was a totally different vibe between us as I continued trying to shoot the puck.
On our first date, every insult was intended to sting.
On our next two dates, the insults were half-mean, half-joking.
But tonight, there was almost nothing malicious about the comments either of us made.
Grayson’s words of encouragement were almost sweet.
Like he genuinely wanted to see me improve and succeed.
Despite my struggles, I was enjoying the date. I didn’t even have to fake my smiles, and his cheerful laughter seemed every bit as real.
Eventually, I fired the puck directly at the goal. It was on target. Grayson could have easily deflected it, but instead he watched it slide between his legs and into the net.
The light on top of the goal flashed red and the goal horn blared throughout the arena. Even though he had let me score, I tossed down the hockey stick and threw my hands in the air victoriously.
“Goal!” Grayson announced, tossing down his own stick to celebrate with me. “I guess you really are a natural hockey player.”
I was the furthest thing from a natural, but his compliment still made me grin like an idiot.
“Nice job,” he said, holding up a palm.
I high-fived him. It felt way too platonic after being pinned to the ice earlier, but I was suddenly aware of the camera guy in the stands to the side, snapping photos.
“All right!” he shouted to us. “I think we’ve got all the footage we need. We can call it a day.”
“Finally,” Grayson said with a half-smile. “I was starting to feel bad for you out there.”
“You called me a natural, and it’s too late to take it back,” I replied.
The two of us skated over to the bench. It felt strange to walk on solid ground again. We removed our skates in silence, and then I handed mine to Grayson.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Grayson admitted.
“I had a good time,” I admitted. “Thanks for being such a patient teacher.”
“Next time, I’ll show you how to cross-check someone into the wall. It’s the best feeling in the world.”
“Well, maybe the second best feeling in the world,” I replied.
He chuckled, but then we awkwardly stood around for a few seconds.
I was enjoying being around him, and didn’t want the date to end.
I searched around for an excuse to extend the fake-date, quickly trying to think of a place we could go to get coffee or lunch, but then Manny the photographer was walking over to the edge of the bench.
“Do you want to shoot those playoff promo photos while you’re here?” he asked. “The official team shoot is at four, but we could snap them right now so you don’t have to leave and come back.”
“Let’s do it,” Grayson said, disappearing through the tunnel that led to the locker room.
I let out a long sigh. Four dates down, one to go.
*
“Do you have to watch the game?” Sharon asked Kyle. “We’re recording.”
“I’ll mute it,” he replied from the couch.
“I’d prefer you turn it off.”
“It’s fine,” I cut in. “I kind of like having the game on.”
“Yeah, let her watch her boyfriend,” Kyle said. “It’s the last game of the season, after all.”
It was rare for both of us to have a night off when there was a game at the Frost Bank Center. Neither of us minded. We were working all the home games during the playoffs, which were notoriously hectic, so I was grateful to be off.
Although it technically wasn’t a night off since we were filming a video for Sharon’s TikTok channel.
She was showing me how to make ravioli from scratch, and then next week she would be a guest on one of my videos.
Then we’d cross-promote them both on our channels, getting more viewers than we would otherwise.
“I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to help me out, now that you’re a big time influencer,” Sharon said.
“I’m not that big yet. And you can thank me by focusing. I still have to go home and edit a bunch of my own videos after this.”
“As soon as the water is boiling, we’ll start filming the second part,” she promised me.
“There he is!” Kyle called from across the room. “Josie’s boyfriend. I can’t believe I know somebody who is in an actual relationship with an NHL player.”
“It’s not a relationship. It’s a publicity stunt,” I replied.
Kyle turned to smirk at me. “That’s not what Sharon said.”
“Kyle!” Sharon hissed.
“What did Sharon say?” I demanded.
“That you two totally like each other and are secretly falling in love.”
I whirled to face my friend. “Sharon!”
“I’m sorry! Kyle and I tell each other everything.”
“Everything,” Kyle agreed, raising his eyebrows suggestively.
“I don’t know why you’re smiling,” I told him. “Sharon tells me everything, too. Including that thing you tried to do in bed the other night, you pervert.”
His smile disappeared, and he quickly turned back to the game. “You don’t have to be an ass about it.”
“You started it,” I replied.
“Water’s boiling!” Sharon said. “No talking from this point forward, Kyle. Are you ready?”
I nodded.
She tapped the wireless remote that controlled the three cameras in the kitchen, then smiled brightly for the one in the middle. “We’re back and ready to boil our pasta. Now, the key with this is to get a rolling boil, but as soon as you add…”
She cut off when my phone rang in my pocket.
“I thought you put Do Not Disturb on?” Sharon complained.
“I have a few contacts who are exempt. You and Grayson are two of them…”
“He’s on the ice, so it can’t be him,” Kyle said.
I sighed when I saw the name on my phone. “Sorry, but I have to take this. This is Josie Harper.”
Bob Trent’s voice drifted through the phone. “Josie. Hope I’m not calling at a bad time. I just stopped by your beer stand, but you’re not there.”
“I’ve got the night off. What’s up?”
“We’ve finished the plans for your next date with Grayson. The final date in the contract.”
I was excited, but only for a second. “I thought you said we were going to wait until after the playoffs?”
“I changed my mind. We’ve got a new plan for your date, a way to tie it into the playoff series against the Oilers. But I need to verify something with you first.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you have a passport?”