Page 99 of Coach's Temptation

Hunter returns moments later, sliding into his seat beside me with a tight, forced smile.

“You okay?” I ask softly, trying to shove my emotions down my throat with a big gulp of white wine.

"Yeah, fine. Just…" He pauses, like he was about to say something but decided not to. "Just Wes from Vegas. They clinched their spot tonight. He, uh... called to wish us luck."

I nod slowly, swallowing down the words burning to spill out. My fingers twist anxiously beneath the tablecloth.

The rest of dinner passes in a blur. Toasts are made, congratulations exchanged, but my mind churns. Fear seeps in, cracking the happiness I’d been feeling all evening. All week. All damn month.

Hunter reaches for my hand, his thumb stroking gently over my knuckles, anchoring me even as questions scream inside my head.

As dinner ends and people begin filtering out, Hunter guides me toward our waiting car. He’s silent the whole drive back to the hotel to collect our cases, his hand tight on mine, but his thoughts obviously elsewhere.

I glance out the window as we head to the airport, Boston's city lights blurring together as one.

The Icehawks are on the verge of something huge. The Finals, possibly a championship.

But something tells me Hunter is on the verge of something even bigger.

Something that could change everything.

And just as I finally thought I’d found everything I ever dreamed of…

Love, family, belonging…

I realize it could slip away all over again.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Natalie

Early morning sunlight spills through the open garage door, catching on the polished curves of Hunter’s glossy red Ferrari. A ruby nestled among the rugged beauty of Iron Ridge, this vehicle is a small-town dream wrapped in luxury leather seats and gleaming chrome.

“Okay, Coach,” I tease, hands on my hips as I eye the pristine sports car skeptically. “I appreciate the sentiment, but maybe we should start smaller. Like, I don’t know… your Jeep?”

Hunter chuckles, leaning casually against the hood, arms folded across his chest. His navy shirt hugs his broad shoulders, sleeves pushed up to reveal strong forearms. Dark jeans fit him like they were custom-made, and his favorite leather boots complete the casual 'day-off' look.

“Nope. It’s Ferrari day. And you’re driving.”

I swallow, excitement and nerves mingling in my chest. “You sure you trust me with your precious baby?”

He pushes off the car and steps close, sliding a hand gently along my waist. “I trust you with anything, Nat. Now get in. She purrs so good when you treat her right.”

A grin tugs at my lips as I lift an eyebrow. “Oooo… Like owner, like car?”

He tilts my chin up, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my lips. “Exactly.”

Sliding into the driver’s seat feels surreal. Like stepping into a fantasy. Soft leather cradles me as I grip the steering wheel, my pulse racing faster than this car probably ever has.

Hunter settles beside me, calm and patient as he guides me through the fancy push button ignition.

“Alright, clutch in, shift into first, then ease the gas.” He smiles reassuringly. “You’ve got this.”

I stare down at the unfamiliar gear stick and clutch pedal like they're alien controls from a spaceship. Sure, I can drive… but automatic transmissions have always been my thing.

I draw a shaky breath, press the clutch, and shift awkwardly into gear.

The engine roars to life beneath me, sending vibrations through my fingertips. I stall immediately, jolting us forward with an embarrassing lurch. Hunter laughs, a warm, rich sound that eases the nerves whizzing through me.

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