Page 9 of The Hockey Pact

"Thank you," I said, hoping my voice conveyed the depth of my gratitude. "This is... this means a lot."

Caleb's expression softened. "Your food is excellent, Riley. More people should know about it."

Max returned from the register looking smugly satisfied. "Mission accomplished. I think your friend might hate me slightly less now, or at least hate me for more specific reasons."

"What did you do?" Caleb asked suspiciously.

"Just left a tip commensurate with the quality of service," Max said innocently.

From behind the bar, I caught Zoe's eye. She gave me a small head shake that clearly communicated both exasperation and reluctant amusement.

As they prepared to leave, Caleb lingered briefly. "Let me know if Annabelle works out for the catering. I'm usually here for morning skate—you can leave a message at the practice facility if you want."

"I will. And thank you again," I said, still holding his card like it might disappear.

After they left, Zoe materialized beside me. "So, what was that about?"

"He's recommended us for a catering job. The team's charity event for schools."

Zoe's eyebrows shot up. "Seriously? That could be huge for us."

"I know," I said, finally allowing myself to feel the tiny spark of hope that had ignited. "Also, what did his friend do that almost made you smile? I saw that twitch at the corner of your mouth."

"He left a ridiculous tip and wrote 'For the chef who is unimpressed by athletic prowess but hopefully impressed by mathematical generosity' on the receipt," Zoe admitted. "It was stupid."

"But a little funny," I suggested.

"Maybe amicroscopicamount funny," Zoe conceded. "Still a jock with too much money, though."

I tucked Caleb's card safely into my pocket, that small spark of hope warming me from within. For the first time in weeks, I felt a hint of optimism aboutHat Trick's future. And if that optimism was somehow enhanced by the memory of Caleb's genuine interest in my restaurant and his surprising knowledge of food, well—I wasn't going to examine that too closely. Not yet, anyway.

Chapter 4: Caleb

I arrived at the school charity gala early, slipping in through the service entrance wearing dark jeans, a ball cap, and non-designer sunglasses—my standard incognito outfit when I wanted to avoid attention. The event wouldn't officially start for another hour, but I wanted to watch Riley work without creating the usual fuss my presence caused.

The hotel ballroom was in organized chaos, with staff arranging tables, florists adding final touches to centerpieces, and in the far corner, Riley's catering team setting up serving stations. I positioned myself near a column where I could observe without being conspicuous.

Riley was clearly the driving force for her small team, who had the look of part-timers or temporary staff rather than seasoned chefs. But Riley herself moved with the practiced, focused precision I recognized from her restaurant. Her hair was pulled back tight, revealing the elegant curve of her neck as she carefully arranged miniature truffle sliders on a hockey-puck platter. She was completely absorbed, just like I felt before important games – focused on every single detail.

For the past week, I'd found myself returning toHat Trickalmost daily, using Max's inexplicable fascination with antagonizing Zoe as an excuse. In reality, something about Riley's straightforward determination kept drawing me back. She was refreshingly genuine in a world where I was constantly surrounded by people who wanted something from me.

I was about to make my way over to Riley's station when I noticed Vincent Carelli approaching her. My jaw clenched involuntarily. Carelli was notorious in Boston business circles—a"consultant" who specialized in high-interest loans to desperate small business owners. The team had specifically banned him from approaching players after a rookie defenseman nearly lost his signing bonus to one of Carelli’s "investment opportunities."

Vincent leaned in close to Riley, his expensive but poorly fitted suit marking him as a man with new money and no taste. I couldn't hear their conversation, but Riley's body language told me everything I needed to know. Her shoulders stiffened, her smile disappeared, and she took a small step back. Carelli only pressed closer, sliding what looked like a business card toward her.

Without conscious thought, I found myself moving across the room. By the time I reached Riley's station, Carelli had finally slithered away, leaving her visibly shaken. Her hands trembled slightly as she arranged canapés on a tray.

"Everything looks incredible," I said by way of greeting, keeping my voice casual.

Riley looked up, surprise and relief washing over her face. "Caleb! I didn't know you'd be here this early."

"I wanted to see the setup without creating a distraction," I explained, gesturing toward my cap. "Once I'm officially here, it gets harder to have normal conversations."

She smiled at that, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "Well, I'm glad you came by. I wanted to thank you again for the recommendation. Annabelle has been wonderful to work with."

“Happy to help,” I said, then hesitated as I watched Vincent slipping away. "Is everything going okay? I saw Vincent Carelli talking to you."

Her smile faltered slightly. "You know him?"

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