Page 73 of The Hockey Contract

"I have not," I protested, immediately dropping my hand.

"What's with the bling, anyway? Not exactly practical bakery wear." She leaned closer to examine it. "That's not cubic zirconia, is it? Please tell me your hockey husband didn't buy you a real diamond that size."

"It's a thank-you gift," I explained, the words sounding hollow even to my own ears. "For helping with the endorsement contract."

Chloe's eyebrows shot up. "That's some thank-you. Most people go with a gift card or a fruit basket."

"It's excessive," I agreed. "And confusing."

"What's confusing about a man buying his wife jewelry?" she asked, then realization dawned on her face. "Oh. Because he's not really your husband."

"Exactly." I turned back to the cake designs, not really seeing them. "This isn't part of our arrangement. Neither is inviting me to Vancouver for an away game, or arranging private cooking lessons, or making me breakfast in bed..."

"Wow, you two are really committing to this fake marriage thing." Chloe's tone was suspiciously neutral. "Going above and beyond the contractual obligations."

I glanced at her sharply. "What are you suggesting?"

"Nothing." She held up flour-covered hands in surrender. "Just seems like a lot of effort for a business arrangement, that's all."

Before I could formulate a response, the bakery door chimed, and Leo's voice called out a greeting. Chloe immediately busied herself with the cookie tray, a flush rising on her cheeks that had nothing to do with the hot ovens.

"Ladies," Leo said, entering the kitchen with his usual swagger, though I noticed his eyes went immediately to Chloe. "Looking busy as always."

"Some of us have actual work to do," Chloe replied, not looking up from her task. "Unlike certain sports agents who seem to spend their days delivering messages that could be emails."

"And miss the pleasant atmosphere?" Leo placed a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "You wound me, Ms. Bennett."

Their antagonistic exchange continued, but I noticed subtle changes in their dynamic. Leo stood closer to Chloe than strictly necessary. She looked up at him more often than her task required. When she made a particularly cutting remark, his smile seemed more appreciative than offended.

Leo finally turned to me, extending an envelope. "Playoff tickets for tomorrow's game. Jax asked me to deliver them personally."

"Thank you," I said, accepting the envelope. "Though you could have just sent them electronically."

"And deprive myself of the bakery's charms?" His eyes drifted back to Chloe as he said it.

After Leo departed, I cornered Chloe by the walk-in refrigerator. "Spill. Now."

"There's nothing to spill," she insisted, suddenly very interested in inventory rotation.

"Oh please. The tension between you two has shifted from 'I might murder you' to 'I might tear your clothes off.' What happened?"

Chloe sighed, abandoning the pretense of work. "We ran into each other at a bar last week. He was alone, I was alone, it would have been weird not to acknowledge each other."

"And?"

"And we talked. Like actual human beings." She looked almost bewildered by the development. "He apologized for college—really apologized, not some half-assed excuse. Said it was the biggest regret of his life, the way he handled things."

"Wow." I leaned against the refrigerator door. "So you forgave him?"

"God, no," she scoffed, but her expression softened. "But... we've been texting. Just hockey stuff, bakery business. Professional things."

"Of course," I nodded seriously. "Very professional."

"Shut up," she muttered, but couldn't hide her smile.

The day passed in a flurry of activity as I prepared to leave for Vancouver the next day. By the time I arrived home to pack, I was surprised to find Jax had already arranged everything—a professional dog-sitter for Sprinkles, a detailed itinerary printed and highlighted, even a small travel bag with my favorite toiletries.

"You didn't have to do all this," I told him as he showed me the hotel reservation he'd made for our night in Vancouver.

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