Page 49 of The Hockey Contract

Our eyes met. "Even then," I confirmed softly.

The conversation flowed more naturally after that, moving beyond facts to stories—my disastrous dance recital where I accidentally knocked over the entire back row of performers; Jax's first professional game where he was so nervous he put his jersey on backward; my college roommate who sleepwalked and once tried to "bake" my shoes.

By midnight, I felt as though I'd learned more about Jax Harrison in one evening than in the previous two weeks combined.

"We should probably get some sleep," I finally said, noticing Jax trying to suppress a yawn. "Early practice tomorrow?"

He nodded, stretching as he stood. "Six AM ice time."

We gathered our notes and empty containers, moving around each other with the comfortable rhythm we'd developed. At the hallway that separated our bedrooms, we paused.

"Thanks for tonight," I said. "I feel much more prepared for your parents now."

"Me too." He hesitated, as if wanting to say more, then simply added, "Goodnight, Sienna."

"Goodnight, Jax."

In the connecting bathroom we shared, I was removing my makeup when I dropped my moisturizer. Jax, brushing his teeth at his sink, reacted at the same moment I did, both of us bending to retrieve it.

Our faces came unexpectedly close, so near I could see the varied flecks of color in his eyes, the day's stubble darkening his jaw. For a suspended moment, neither of us moved, caught in some unnamed tension that seemed to grow with each passing second.

His eyes dropped briefly to my lips, and my breath caught in my throat. Was he going to...?

Then he straightened abruptly, handing me the moisturizer with a carefully neutral expression. "Here."

"Thanks," I managed, suddenly very aware of my thin pajama tank top and shorts.

"Goodnight," he said again, more firmly this time, and retreated to his bedroom, closing the door with a decisive click.

I stood alone in the bathroom, my heart racing for no logical reason. This was business, I reminded myself sternly. Any perceived chemistry was simply the result of spending time together, of the natural intimacy that developed when sharing space with someone.

Chapter 16: Jax

The team bus rumbled toward Vancouver, carrying twenty-three hockey players, coaches, and staff for our away game against the Canucks. Normally, I used these trips to review game footage or nap, but today I found myself staring at my phone, refreshing the bakery's social media page.

Sienna had posted several photos of her preparations for the charity gala—test desserts in Kraken blue, sketches of display ideas, behind-the-scenes shots of Chloe dramatically taste-testing. In each caption, her excitement was palpable, her passion for her craft evident.

In one photo, she stood proudly beside a tiered display of sample desserts, flour on her cheek, exhaustion and triumph in her smile. Something twisted in my chest at the sight—pride, affection, and a surprising sense of missing her after just one day apart.

"Must be something good on that screen."

I looked up to find Anders watching me from across the aisle, his usual stoic expression softened by mild curiosity.

"Just checking social media," I replied, locking my phone too quickly to seem casual.

Anders raised an eyebrow but didn't press. After a moment of silence, he asked, "How's Sienna? Adjusting to hockey life?"

"She's good. Busy with the bakery."

Anders nodded thoughtfully. "Sarah found the first year hardest. The travel, the schedule, the constant public scrutiny. It's a lot for someone not raised in this world."

I shifted uncomfortably. Anders rarely initiated conversations, especially about personal matters. "Sienna's handling it well."

"She seems resilient," he agreed. "You two are good together. Different energies, but complementary."

The observation caught me off guard. "Thanks."

"Have you thought about after?" he asked suddenly.

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