Page 18 of The Hockey Pact

"Let's get some air," he suggested in a tone that was clearly not a request.

Outside, Jim led me to a small deck overlooking a neatly maintained backyard. A hockey net stood at the far end, looking well-used.

"That's where Riley learned to shoot," Jim said, noticing my gaze. "She was pretty good, actually. Could have played in college if she'd wanted to. But cooking was always her first love."

I smiled at the image of a young Riley practicing shots. "She certainly knows the game well."

"Mm." Jim leaned against the deck railing, his expression turning serious. "Let's cut to the chase, Caleb. I wasn't born yesterday. This engagement seems awfully convenient for both of you."

My heart rate kicked up, but I kept my expression neutral. "How do you mean?"

"I mean Riley's restaurant is in financial trouble, and according to my hockey buddies, you're in line for the captaincy—which traditionally goes to players with stable personal lives." His gaze was direct, challenging. "Seems like an arrangement that solves both problems."

For a moment, I considered maintaining the charade, but something in Jim's expression—not judgmental, just concerned—made me reconsider. I didn't want to admit the complete truth, but I also didn't want to outright lie to this man who clearly loved his daughter.

"I won't insult your intelligence, sir," I said carefully. "Riley and I have known each other for a short time. But I genuinely respect her, and I'm committed to supporting her and her restaurant." This much, at least, was completely true. "As for the captaincy—yes, my personal life will be a factor in that decision. But I wouldn't have proposed to Riley if I didn't think we could build something real together."

Jim regarded me steadily. "And if it doesn't work out? If this whirlwind romance burns out as quickly as it ignited?"

"Then we'll handle it like adults," I said honestly. "But I give you my word that I will never do anything to hurt Riley or her reputation."

A long moment passed as Jim seemed to weigh my words. Finally, he nodded. "Okay then. That's all I needed to hear."

"You're not going to try to talk her out of it?" I asked, surprised.

He chuckled. "Have you met my daughter? Once she sets her mind to something, wild horses couldn't drag her away. Besides," he added, his expression softening, "she's a good judge of character. Always has been. If she's chosen you, there must be something worthwhile there, regardless of how this all came about."

Before I could respond, a knock at the door interrupted us.

"If you're done grilling Caleb, dinner's ready," Ellen called through the door. "And Danny's about to implode from excitement."

Dinner was easier, with Ellen steering the conversation to safer topics and Danny providing enthusiastic buffer with his hockey chatter. When Riley finally worked up the courage to announce our marriage officially, Ellen's squeal of delight and immediate wedding planning masked Jim's more reserved reaction.

"We're thinking something small," Riley explained quickly. "Just family and close friends. Soon, actually."

"How soon?" Ellen asked, already mentally redecorating the backyard for a reception.

"Three weeks," I supplied, placing my hand over Riley's on the table. "Before training camp starts."

Ellen's eyebrows shot up. "Three weeks? But that's hardly enough time to—"

"It's perfect," Riley interrupted. "Small, intimate, no fuss. We're not really traditional wedding people, Mom."

"Well," Ellen said, recovering quickly, "I suppose we can work with three weeks. Jim? Thoughts?"

Jim studied us over his glass of wine. "If this is what Riley wants, we support her. That's what family does." The pointed emphasis on "family" wasn't lost on me.

After dinner, while Ellen gave Riley what appeared to be an intense mother-daughter talk in the kitchen, Danny cornered me for more hockey discussion and selfies "to make my teammates lose their minds." When it was finally time to leave, the farewell was a mix of genuine warmth from Ellen and Danny, and cautious acceptance from Jim.

"Take care of her," Jim said quietly as we shook hands, the warning clear in his tone.

"I will," I promised, meaning it more than he could know.

On the drive back to Boston, Riley seemed withdrawn, staring out the passenger window at the passing scenery. When I asked if she was reconsidering our arrangement, she sighed.

"No, it's not that. I just hate lying to them. Mom's already talking about wedding colors and grandkids, and Dad..." She trailed off.

"Your dad sees more than he lets on," I completed her thought.

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