Page 103 of The Hockey Contract

"Happier than I ever thought possible," she replied, her head resting against my chest. "Especially for someone who once had coffee dumped on her by an arrogant hockey player."

"I believe you dumped coffee on me," I corrected with a smile.

"Details." She lifted her face to mine, eyes shining with a joy that matched my own. "The important part is where we ended up."

Chapter 38: Sienna

One year after championship glory and genuine vows, I stood in the expanded kitchen of Grandma Rose's Bakehouse and Café, adding final touches to a special anniversary cake. The renovation had seamlessly connected the original bakery with the neighboring building, creating a thriving business that honored my grandmother's legacy while reflecting my own vision.

The past twelve months had transformed not just the physical space but every aspect of my life.

Through the archway connecting the original bakery to the new café space, I could see the morning rush of customers – hockey fans wearing Kraken gear alongside business professionals seeking quality coffee, students with laptops, and of course, the regulars who'd supported the bakery through its leaner times.

Mr. Henderson occupied his usual table by the window, now officially reserved with a small plaque bearing his name. He came daily for his Earl Grey tea and pecan roll, often accompanied by other retired gentlemen who'd formed an informal hockey appreciation society under his guidance.

Several Kraken players had become bakery regulars as well, stopping by after practice for my Special protein bars, now packaged and sold in limited quantities. Or to pick up custom orders for family celebrations. What had begun as team obligation during playoffs had evolved into genuine appreciation and friendship.

"Your anniversary cake is gorgeous," Chloe said, entering the kitchen with her usual whirlwind energy. "Though I don't think Jax will appreciate the artistry before devouring it."

"He's developed a more sophisticated palate," I defended with a smile. "He can actually distinguish between types of vanilla now."

"True love changes people," she agreed, holding out her left hand where a modest but elegant engagement ring caught the light. "Speaking of which, Leo and I finally set a date. March next year, small ceremony, absolutely no hockey metaphors in the vows."

I hugged her tightly, genuine happiness for my friend warming me through. "About time! You've been engaged for nearly three months."

"We're taking our time," she said primly, though her smile belied her tone. "Some of us didn't rush into marriage as a business arrangement."

"Never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Not in this lifetime." Her expression softened. "Though I have to admit, it worked out better than anyone could have predicted."

The bell above the door chimed, and Aunt Carol bustled in, immediately tying on an apron despite my protests that she was supposed to be enjoying retirement.

"Nonsense," she dismissed. "I'm helping with the afternoon rush. You have anniversary preparations to handle."

Her gaze shifted to the photograph prominently displayed near the register – Jax hoisting the Cup while kissing me, an image that had become iconic in Seattle sports history. "Still can't believe my niece married a hockey star and made it work," she mused. "Though I always said the best marriages grow from friendship rather than passion."

"We weren't exactly friends at the beginning," I reminded her with a laugh.

She waved dismissively. "You built something solid, that's what matters. Not how it started."

The wisdom in her perspective struck me anew. Our unconventional beginning had forced us to build deliberately, conscious of each step rather than being carried away by initial attraction.

The Perfect Home Furnishings campaign featuring our home had been wildly successful, with Jax signing a multi-year extension that included me in future promotions.

As closing time approached, the bakery door opened to reveal Jax with Sprinkles and our newer addition, Cookie – a smaller mixed-breed puppy we'd adopted from the shelter six months earlier. Jax moved through the space with comfortable familiarity, greeting staff by name, accepting congratulatory anniversary wishes from lingering customers, completely integrated into the bakery world just as I had become part of his hockey family.

"How was the charity event?" I asked as he leaned across the counter to kiss me.

"Good. Raised twice what we expected for youth hockey programs." He stole a cookie from the display case with practiced stealth. "The realtor called about the beachfront property we looked at. It's ours if we want it."

The casual mention of our potential new home – a beautiful place halfway between the bakery and his practice facility, with room for the family we hoped to start within the next few years – created a flutter of excitement. After a year of dividing time between his house and my apartment above the bakery, we were ready for a fresh start in a home chosen together.

Later that evening, after closing the bakery and returning to the lake house for our anniversary dinner, Jax presented me with gifts that reflected how thoroughly he'd come to understand me – a professional-grade stand mixer I'd been coveting for months and tickets to a pastry workshop in Paris scheduled during the off-season.

"Perfect," I breathed, genuinely touched by his thoughtfulness. "You know me so well now."

"I pay attention," he replied with a smile. "It's the least I can do for the woman who changed everything."

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