Page 86 of The Hockey Contract

"I gathered that much." I wiggled my eyebrows. "Details, please."

"It just... happened. We were arguing about the delivery schedule for the team's morning pastries, and then suddenly we were..." She trailed off, her expression softening into something I'd never seen on my cynical friend's face before. "He's different when we're alone. Less Leo-the-agent and more just... Leo."

"And this is the first time you've..." I raised an eyebrow.

"God, no." She laughed, then looked embarrassed by her own admission. "It's been happening for a couple weeks. But last night was the first time I stayed over."

"And?"

"And it was nice," she admitted, her voice quieter now. "Really nice. He made me breakfast. No one's ever done that before."

I squeezed her hand. "I'm happy for you."

"Don't be," she replied quickly. "I'm terrified, Sienna. This is the same guy who ghosted me in college, remember? What happens when he gets bored again or decides his career is more important?"

"Maybe he's changed," I suggested gently. "Maybe you both have."

"People don't change that much." But her expression belied her words, a flicker of hope visible beneath the skepticism.

"Sometimes they do." I thought of Jax – the cold, distant hockey player who'd first proposed our arrangement versus the man who'd whispered he loved me. "Sometimes people just need the right catalyst."

"Like you and Jax?" she asked, watching me closely. "Don't think I haven't noticed how real things have gotten between you two."

Heat rose to my cheeks. "That's different."

"Is it?" She raised an eyebrow. "You entered a fake marriage for mutual benefit, and now you can barely keep your eyes off each other. At least Leo and I started with honest attraction, however hostile."

"It's complicated," I muttered, turning back to my cookie decorating.

"Love usually is," she replied with surprising gentleness. "That's what makes it scary. And worth it."

The afternoon rush kept us too busy for further personal discussion, but Chloe's situation lingered in my mind. She was choosing to risk heartbreak for a chance at happiness, despite past hurts and logical reasons for caution. Her courage made my own hesitation seem cowardly in comparison.

I was piping delicate rosettes onto a playoff-themed cake when the bakery door chimed again. Looking up, I was startled to see Jax standing there in training clothes, his hair still damp from what must have been a post-practice shower. Several customers immediately recognized him, whispers and not-so-subtle phone cameras tracking his movement as he made his way directly to the counter.

"Hey," he said, his voice softer than his public persona would suggest. "Do you have a minute? To talk?"

The weight of those words –to talk– sent my heart ricocheting against my ribs. "I'm a little swamped right now," I hedged, gesturing to the half-finished cake.

"It's important." His eyes held mine, a quiet intensity in them that I couldn't refuse.

"I'll cover," Chloe offered immediately, taking the piping bag from my hands. "Take your time."

I led Jax to my small office in the back and closed the door behind us, creating a bubble of privacy amid the bakery's constant bustle.

He seemed uncharacteristically nervous, hands in his pockets, shifting his weight slightly. "I did something," he began. "Something I probably should have discussed with you first."

My stomach dropped. Had he changed his mind about his declaration? Was he here to tell me he'd spoken impulsively, that we should stick to our original plan?

Instead, he pulled out his phone and showed me architectural renderings – beautiful, detailed plans for what appeared to be an expanded version of Grandma Rose's Bakehouse.

"I bought the building next door," he said, watching my face carefully. "For the bakery expansion you've talked about. The café section you've always wanted."

I stared at the images, unable to process what I was seeing. The designs were stunning – preserving the historic character of the original bakery while creating a connected café space with comfortable seating, large windows, and display cases that would showcase pastries like works of art.

"You bought a building?" I finally managed.

He nodded, scrolling through more images. "The one that used to be that vintage clothing store. I had an architect create these based on ideas I've heard you mention. Everything's preliminary – you'd have full control over the final designs, of course."

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