Page 61 of The Hockey Contract

We worked side by side in comfortable silence—Sienna shaping cookie dough, me handling the baking sheets as directed. The domestic rhythm we'd developed felt natural now, our movements coordinated without need for discussion.

As I watched her work, I realized with startling clarity that I would miss this when our arrangement ended. Not just the convenient endorsement narrative or the improved public image, butthis—the simple moments of shared domesticity, the comfort of her presence in my space.

"Does this mean we'll be ending our arrangement early?" Sienna asked suddenly, not looking up from her task. "Once the contract is signed?"

The question caught me off guard. "I hadn't thought about it. I suppose we could, if you wanted to. The bakery debt would be paid either way."

She nodded, still focused on the cookies. "That would make sense. Logically. No need to continue the charade once we've both achieved our goals."

"Logically," I agreed, though something in my chest tightened at the thought.

Did either of us want to end this arrangement early now that we could?

As Sienna passed me another baking sheet, our fingers touching briefly, I wondered if she shared my confusion. If she, too, had begun caring more than our contract specified.

If she, like me, dreaded our inevitable ending.

Chapter 19: Sienna

Jax's parents arrived precisely on time, rolling suitcases in tow as they approached the front door. I stood beside Jax in the entryway, nervously smoothing my sundress and reminding myself to breathe. Meeting the in-laws was stressful enough in a real relationship; in our situation, it felt like the final exam for a class I hadn't properly studied for.

"Ready?" Jax asked quietly, his hand finding the small of my back in what had become a familiar, comforting gesture.

"As I'll ever be," I whispered back, plastering on my best welcoming smile as he opened the door.

Nancy Harrison embraced me immediately, as if we'd known each other for years rather than minutes. She was a petite woman with Jax's blue eyes and a warmth that radiated from her like sunshine.

"Sienna! Finally!" She hugged me tightly, then held me at arm's length to examine me. "You're even lovelier than your photos. Isn't she lovely, Robert?"

Robert Harrison was essentially Jax in thirty years—tall, broad-shouldered, with the same strong jaw and reserved expression. He nodded politely, extending his hand instead of offering a hug.

"Nice to meet you, Sienna. We've heard... surprisingly little about you." His tone carried a hint of reproach directed at his son.

"Dad, you've just arrived," Jax warned.

"And we're thrilled to be here!" Nancy interjected cheerfully. "Now where's this dog we've heard about? Jax mentioned you have a golden retriever?"

On cue, Sprinkles bounded into the entryway, tail wagging furiously at the prospect of new friends. Before I could grab her collar, she launched himself at Robert, muddy paws leaving perfect prints on his khaki pants.

"Sprinkles! Down!" I pulled her away, mortified. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Harrison. She tends to get overly excited around new people."

To my surprise, Nancy laughed delightedly. "Just like your childhood dog, Jax! Remember Rusty? Impossible to train, that dog. Destroyed three pairs of Robert's golf shoes."

I filed away this new information—Jax had a dog as a child—and noted his slightly embarrassed expression. Another detail he hadn't shared during our get-to-know-you session.

"Let me show you to your room," Jax said, reaching for their suitcases. "You can freshen up before dinner."

As they disappeared down the hallway, I retreated to the kitchen to check on the meal I'd been preparing all afternoon—a roasted chicken with Provencal herbs, a creamy potato gratin, fresh seasonal vegetables, and homemade baguettes, finished off with a decadent chocolate torte for dessert. I’d chosen comfort food with a Parisian twist, hoping to create a warm, inviting atmosphere.

When they returned, Nancy immediately joined me in the kitchen, rolling up her sleeves and asking how she could help. Despite my protests that she was a guest, she insisted on arranging the salad while peppering me with questions about the bakery.

"Jackson tells us you took over from your grandmother," she said, expertly slicing cucumbers. "That must have been both an honor and a challenge."

"It was," I admitted, checking the chicken. "Grandma Rose built the bakery from nothing. Living up to her legacy is intimidating sometimes."

"I'm sure she'd be proud of you." Nancy squeezed my arm affectionately. "Carrying on family traditions is something special."

Dinner started smoothly, with Nancy dominating the conversation, sharing stories about their trip and asking questions about the bakery. Robert remained mostly quiet, observing more than participating, occasionally asking Jax about upcoming games or playoff positioning.

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