Page 1 of Romancing the Grump
CHAPTER 1
SUMMER
I climbout of my car, heels wobbling on the bumpy asphalt, and button the front of my coat. The late February air is unforgiving this early in the morning, and I suddenly wish I had my scarf, too—a missed opportunity because the dusty blue cashmere I inherited from my very fashionable grandmother is fabulous and looks great with this coat.
When I was in law school, I imagined all sorts of work scenarios in which I would be, of course, the star. In my dreams, I was brilliant and bold, savvy but respectful, firm but kind, and always,alwaysthe best-dressed person in the room.
Ahhh, to be so young.
So naïve.
To think thatanyoneworking in the DA’s office in a tiny, tired county in Western North Carolina wouldevercare about the vintage Prada I’d scored at an estate sale or the Chanel jacket I’d found at Nordstrom Rack.
To be fair, the lack of fashion sense in that office was the least of my concerns. After nearly two years working there, I was doing very little shining and much morehiding.
But that’s a story for another day.
I don’t want to think about hiding today. Today, I’m moving forward.
New job. New city.New boss.
I look up at the Summit, the enormous glass and steel building on the opposite side of the parking lot. Even with all those scenarios I played out in my brain, I never imagined this.
I never imagined working for ahockey team, of all things.
I don’t even know what to call this place. A rink? A stadium? An arena?
I probably should have studied up on my terminology before showing up for my first day of work as in-house legal counsel for the Appies.
But it’s not like I’ll have to talk about the actualgame.At least, I hope I won’t. The job description made it seem like I will mostly be reviewing contracts for endorsement deals and advising players on how to not sign their lives—or their paychecks—completely away.
A month ago, I didn’t even know minor league hockey teamsneededlegal counsel. Though, as far as I understand it, the Appies are not your typical team.
Thanks to their very savvy social media manager, they have a social media following that rivals the most popular teams in the NHL. Many of the players have hundreds of thousands of online followers, making them easy targets for endorsement requests or offers of sponsorship that are as good or even better than those offered to major league players. Since most of the players don’t have agents—at least notyet—there isn’t anyone but the team to help them navigate everything.
The Summit, where the team plays and I now work, is also unique in that it’sonlyused by the Appies. They practice here. They play here. And there are never any concerts or other events to work around. This team has a real home, and their fans love to show up and support them.
I pull the leather bag my twin sister Lucy gave me to commemorate my new job out of the back seat of my car. It’s gorgeous, made of soft, luxurious leather, and absolutely way too expensive considering Lucy’s salary as a nurse.
When I protested and tried to give it back, she rolled her eyes and shoved the bag into my chest. “Of course I couldn’t afford it,” she told me. “That’s what made it so fun. Now take it and think of me every single day you carry it.”
I take a deep breath, a feeble attempt to calm the nervous energy pulsing through me, and take off toward the building, head held high. I haven’t even reached the end of my car when an SUV peels into the parking lot, spitting loose bits of asphalt and heading right toward me.
I jump back so I’m safely standing by my car and watch as the SUV parks a few spaces down.
The Appies have a pretty big support staff. Legal, Accounting, Public Relations. It could be anyone arriving to work for the day. But based on the make and model of the car, an army green Bronco with flashy silver wheels and heavily tinted windows, I’d put money on it being some hotshot, too-big-for-his-britches hockey player.
No, not britches. It’s not 1923, so I definitely can’t say britches. And this is a hockey team, so I guess I should say this guy is too big for his…ice pants? Puffy pants? Skate puffs?
Tonight. I’ll study my hockey terminology tonight.
When the driver of the SUV emerges, my grip on my bag tightens, and my heart skips a few beats before resuming a rapidthump-thumpin my chest.
I’ve only met exactly four people who work for the Appies organization.
Felix Jamison, the team goalie, is my best friend Gracie’s boyfriend, so he’s the one I know best. Then there’s Parker. She’s the social media manager and is good friends with Gracie. We’ve met a few times, and she was the one who connected me with Grant, the lead attorney who hired me, making him person number three.
Which brings me to the fourth and final Appie I know—the one who just climbed out of his car and made my stomach flip over.
