Page 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Hunter

T he morning sunshine filters gently through the bustling luxury of Newbury Street in downtown Boston, reflecting off polished storefront windows and designer boutiques.

Natalie walks beside me, eyes sparkling with excitement, completely oblivious to the chaos swirling inside my head. Her white sundress has a neckline that dips just low enough to give me an eyeful of the good stuff.

A light breeze catches the fabric, pressing it against her body in ways that make focusing on anything else impossible.

Everything except for Wes Callahan’s phone call that still echoes relentlessly in my ears. It was a bombshell dropped casually between congratulations for beating our old team, and friendly banter that's become normal between two rival coaches.

“Hunter, there’s talk. Team USA’s looking at you for the Olympic squad. Head coach.”

He'd said it so simply, like it wasn't a life-altering announcement. Like the idea of coaching the best players in the country at the Winter Olympic Games, of representing our country on the world stage was just small talk.

But I can’t deny the adrenaline it had sparked.

Hell, I didn’t even know it was something I wanted until Wes had said the words. The Olympics. Team USA. Gold medals. The pinnacle of a coaching career, a chance to etch my name into hockey history.

If we win the Stanley Cup, I’d be a shoe-in.

If.

I glance over at Natalie, whose attention is caught by the elaborate window display of a designer fashion boutique, and the harsh reality hits me square in the chest.

Natalie loves Iron Ridge. Her life, her friends, her grandmother's apartment… they’re all there.

And watching her yesterday, nestled comfortably in my parents’ kitchen, laughing freely as my mother showed her embarrassing childhood photos, told me everything I needed to know about her heart’s deepest desire.

Family. Home. Stability.

Everything that's not exactly compatible with a life chasing Olympic glory around the world.

But right now, none of that matters.

Game One against Boston is tonight. We need to get off to a flyer if we're any chance at making the Finals.

So I've bought my girl out to the finest precinct in Boston to spoil her before we head back to the trenches tonight.

“Hunter, seriously,” Natalie protests lightly, laughing as I tug her inside the upscale boutique. “We’re just window shopping.”

“No… you’re window shopping,” I correct her, grinning mischievously. “I’m a man. We actually shop and buy things.”

A sales assistant immediately recognizes me, rushing forward with an excited smile and a pen in hand.

"Mr. Brody, huge Icehawks fan. Can I trouble you for an autograph?"

"Of course," I reply easily, quickly signing my name across the notepad, smiling politely even as my mind races. I pose for a quick selfie and off they go again.

Would Olympic-level attention be even more intense than this?

Natalie watches me, a teasing smirk playing on her lips. "Famous everywhere, aren't you?"

"Only the important places," I wink back and slap her playfully on the ass as we roam the racks of dresses.

As we walk through the boutique, my mind drifts back to the call with Wes. I deflected as best as I could when Natalie asked why he called. The truth is, I couldn’t tell her. Not after yesterday. Not after the night we shared at the ice rink.

She’s become so important to me, and the thought of shaking up our world with news of that magnitude feels wrong.

I watch her as she moves from rack to rack. She deserves stability, not the chaos that would come with an international coaching career.

But then again, is there even news yet? There's nothing to tell her, because it's all just speculation and rumors. For all I know, Wes was just trying to distract me because he doesn't want his team facing mine in the Stanley Cup Finals.

No need to worry about something that isn’t certain, right?

Natalie stops in front of a mannequin displaying a stunning emerald green dress. Her eyes light up, and she bites her bottom lip, clearly taken with it.

“That would look amazing on my floor,” I murmur in her ear. "You know, after I peel it off you with my teeth."

She turns, giving me a playful shove. “Hunter!”

“What? It’s true.” I grin, pulling her closer by the waist. “You’d look incredible in that, baby.”

She hesitates for a moment before giving in to curiosity. “Maybe just a try-on?”

“Absolutely,” I say, waving over a sales assistant who quickly retrieves the dress for her.

As Natalie disappears into the fitting room, I lean against a nearby display, trying to push thoughts of Wes’s call out of my mind by tapping out a message to Mike the contractor back in Iron Ridge.

I type out the text, checking on the progress of Natalie's renovations. They should be nearly done, and I'm fighting hard to keep it a secret every damn day. I hit send on the message and moments later, Natalie steps out in the dress.

My breath fucking catches and the world around me stills.

"Whoa…" I breathe out without meaning to.

The emerald fabric clings to her curves perfectly, accentuating everything I love about her. She's look like a damn supermodel, crazy gorgeous and perfect.

“Well?” she asks, doing a little twirl that makes the dress dance at the hem.

I take a step closer, my fingers itching to touch her. “You look… stunning.”

Her cheeks flush pink as she meets my gaze. “You think?”

“I know,” I say firmly. “We’re buying it.”

She laughs softly but doesn’t argue this time. She knows it's pointless anyway.

Instead, she steps closer, placing a hand on my chest and leaning up to kiss me on the cheek. “Thank you, Hunter.”

“For what?”

“For making me feel special,” she says softly.

As we walk out of the boutique with Natalie holding onto one arm, the other arm carrying the bag with her new dress in it, I realize that focusing on now is exactly what we both need right now.

I guide Natalie into the glass elevator of Boston's most exclusive rooftop restaurant, watching her eyes widen as we ascend sixty stories above the city. The skyline stretches endlessly, glittering towers catching the afternoon sun like hundreds of diamonds spreading across the sky.

"Hunter, this is incredible," Natalie breathes, pressing her hand against the glass.

The doors open and Mom's already waiting at our private corner table, champagne chilling in a silver bucket. She jumps up the moment she spots us, pulling Natalie into a warm hug before she even gives me one.

"Huh. It's like that is it? Replaced already."

"Oh, stop that. Now. I ordered the chef's tasting menu," Mom announces as we settle in. "Wait until you try the lobster thermidor. It's what Hunter always begged for on his birthdays."

Natalie squeezes my leg under the table. "Yes, apparently he does have expensive taste."

She gives me a look, but seeing her in that dress… Pfft. As if I was ever leaving that behind.

The waiter appears, pouring vintage red wine into crystal glasses the moment the champagne is finished. Then, it all happens in a blur. Course after course arrives. Butter-poached lobster with gold leaf, wagyu beef carpaccio, caviar nestled on mother of pearl spoons.

I can't help but smile, watching Natalie sample each delicate bite with pure joy while Mom regales her with stories.

Natalie closes her eyes briefly as she tastes the butter-poached lobster, her soft sigh making my chest tighten with pride. Fuck, I could watch her enjoy this forever.

As they chat, my phone buzzes. Relief washes over me when it's not a message from Jordan about a last-minute injury to one of my boys.

Instead, I open the reply from Mike from earlier: Reno complete. She'll love it.

"You know, you're the first girl he's ever brought home," Mom says, reaching across to squeeze Natalie's hand. "I always told him, when you find the right one, you'll know. And seeing you two together..." She dabs at her eyes with her napkin. "I can't wait for grandchildren."

"Mom!" My voice is a sharp warning.

Natalie's cheeks flush pink as she almost chokes on a the last chunk of wagyu beef.

"What? A mother can dream!"

"Then do that. Dream like everyone else - inside your own head ," I growl, twisting my wrist to check my watch.

"We need to head out." I check my watch again. "Blake's shoulder needs work before the game, and you've got prep to do."

Natalie dabs her lips with the crisp linen napkin. "Right, of course."

"Hunter James Brody, let the poor girl finish her wine." Mom shoots me her patented disapproving look. "For such a fine young gentlemen, you're being awfully bossy."

I stand, adjusting my suit jacket. "Mom, you know where your seats are tonight?"

"Yes, dear. Third row."

"No. That's not what I told you. Icehawks box tonight… remember?" Mom nods as I hold my teenage-like frustration inside. "And please… make sure Dad-"

"Sticks to light beer. I know, I know." She waves me off. "Good luck, sweetheart. You'll do great tonight."

I'm not exactly sure if she's talking to me or Natalie, but we both say thank you at the same time and slide out of our chairs.

As we head toward the elevator, my hand in the small on Natalie's back, a familiar voice booms across the restaurant.

"Well if it isn't Hunter Brody!"

My stomach drops. Coach Miller. My old juniors coach lumbers toward us like an overeager grizzly bear, his massive six-foot-four frame practically bursting out of his Bruins gear.

"Looking good, kid!" He claps my shoulder. "Saw the rumors floating around. Big things coming your way after this cup run, eh?"

Shit!

I grip Natalie's elbow, steering her toward the exit. "Great seeing you, Coach, but we're running late-"

"Team USA-"

I mash the elevator button repeatedly, almost willing the doors open with sheer desperation.

"Yeah! Go USA! Thanks, Coach." I cut him off, my voice carrying right the way across the restaurant. "Sorry, we really need to go."

The doors finally slide open and I usher Natalie inside before Coach can say anything else. My heart pounds as I watch her face, but luckily for me, she's focused on adjusting her dress in the mirrored walls.

The elevator descends, and I turn to Natalie, distracting Coach Miller's words with my own. "I've got a surprise for you."

"Another one?" She arches an eyebrow. "The dress wasn't enough?"

"That was personal. This is work stuff. You've been working non-stop with Blake's shoulder. So tonight, you're taking the night off."

"Hunter, I can't-"

"You'll check him before the game, then watch from the family box with my parents."

The elevator doors open to the lobby, and I guide her through the rotating doors into the crisp Boston air. "But what if someone needs-"

"Jordan and the other assistants can handle it. You deserve this." I flag down our driver. "Plus, Mom's already excited to have you there. Please, enjoy the night and I'll gladly have you back in the box for Game Two."

Reluctantly, Natalie agrees and once we arrive at the arena, we split up - me to the locker room, her to medical.

An hour later, I spot her slipping into the corporate box, settling between my parents. Mom immediately loops her arm through Natalie's, pointing out something on the ice while Dad leans in to explain a play formation.

The sight makes my heart skip a beat.

This is what I want. Not just for tonight, but for every game. Natalie with my family, supporting me, belonging here.

She catches my eye and excuses herself, meeting me in the tunnel.

"Blake's good to go. He is on some painkillers, but he's showing signs of getting that full range of motion back." Her hands smooth my tie. "Now go make Boston cry."

I glance around - no cameras, no staff - before pulling her close for a quick kiss and another slap on her ass… you know, for luck.

"Watch me win, baby."

"Always do, Coach."

With the taste of her on my lips, the game flows exactly as planned.

Blake's shoulder holds up perfectly thanks to Natalie's work. Connor stands on his head in goal. By the third period, we're up 4-1, and I can't help stealing glances at the box where Natalie's cheering with my parents.

One game closer to the Cup.

One step closer to everything I've worked for.

But watching Natalie celebrate each goal with my family, I realize the Cup isn't the only prize I'm chasing anymore.

There's something bigger at stake…

Now I just need to work out exactly what that might be.