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I returned to my waterfront mansion, my mind oddly preoccupied with the baker. Her name was Sienna, according to the viral video captions. Something about her sharp retorts and refusal to be intimidated had gotten under my skin.

"Focus, Harrison," I muttered to myself as I punched in the security code and pushed open the door to my home.

The house was exactly as I'd left it. Immaculate, monochromatic, and empty. The cleaning service had been by, and everything was polished to perfection. I kicked off my muddy running shoes and headed straight for the shower, stripping off my clothes and leaving them in a pile on the bathroom floor.

Under the scalding spray, I replayed the meeting with my agent Leo and endorsement manager Olivia from earlier that day. The memory made my jaw clench.

"Perfect Home Furnishings is looking for someone more family-oriented," Olivia had explained delicately, sliding a folder across the table.

"What the hell does that mean?" I'd demanded, not touching the folder.

Leo, who'd been my friend since college before becoming my agent, had sighed. "It means they're concerned about your public image, Jax. The Ice-Cold reputation works great on the rink, but for selling couches and dining sets? Not so much."

"They're worried about the tabloid stories," Olivia had added. "The string of models, the club appearances—"

"Half of which aren't even true," I'd interrupted. "I haven't been to a club in days. And I'm not dating anyone right now, model or otherwise."

"It doesn't matter what's true," Leo had said gently. "It's about perception. And right now, the perception is that you're not exactly the poster boy for home and hearth."

I'd leaned back in my chair, frustration building. "So what, they want me to pretend I'm something I'm not?"

"They want someone who embodies family values for their rebrand," Olivia had explained.

"This could be your biggest endorsement deal ever, Jax," Leo had added. "Seven figures, minimum. But they're making the final decision in three months, and honestly, that's not enough time for a complete image overhaul."

I shut off the shower with more force than necessary, the conversation still burning in my mind. Perfect Home Furnishings was the kind of mainstream endorsement that could set me up for life after hockey. And with a knee that complained more each season, I needed to think about the future.

Wrapping a towel around my waist, I padded into my bedroom and checked my phone. Three missed calls from my parents and a text from my younger brother:

Saw the video. Never thought I'd see the day when The Ice Man got taken down by a cute baker. Call Mom, she's freaking out.

Great. Even my family had seen the viral disaster.

I returned my mother's call first, enduring ten minutes of concern about my public behavior and reminders that I represented not just myself but the whole Harrison family. My father got on the line briefly to ask if the incident would affect my playing time. Classic Dad, always focused on the game.

By the time I arrived at team practice the next morning, I was already in a foul mood. Which only worsened when I stepped into the locker room to find the video playing on someone's phone.

"There he is," Anders, our goalie, called out with a grin. "Seattle's most famous coffee catastrophe."

Captain Finn clapped me on the shoulder. "Rough morning yesterday, Harrison? Did the mean baker lady hurt your feelings?"

I shoved his hand away. "Shut up and get dressed. Some of us take practice seriously."

"Ouch," Finn said, clutching his chest in mock pain. "Still icy, I see. That poor baker probably has frostbite."

The team erupted in laughter, and I focused on gearing up, ignoring their continued jabs. By the time we hit the ice, I was fueled by enough irritation to make my checks particularly brutal.

Coach Miller blew his whistle after I'd sent rookie defenseman Reynolds sliding across the ice for the third time. "Jax, this is practice, not the playoffs. Dial it back."

I nodded curtly, skating to the bench for water.

Coach followed me over. "Look, I get that you're fired up, and I like the intensity, but save it for the game tomorrow." He lowered his voice. "And while we're at it, watch yourself off the ice. PR called this morning about that video. The last thing we need is negative press heading into the playoffs."

"It was nothing," I muttered. "Just a minor misunderstanding."

"Keep it that way," Coach said firmly before addressing the whole team. "Alright, listen up. We've got six weeks until playoffs, and every single one of you needs to be in top form, on and off the ice. That means taking care of your bodies, staying out of trouble, and maintaining professional behavior at all times." His gaze lingered on me. "No exceptions."

After practice, I was unlacing my skates when Finn dropped onto the bench beside me.

"Rough session," he commented, studying my face. "Want to grab lunch and talk about what's actually bothering you? Because I'm pretty sure it's not just a spilled coffee."

I hesitated. Finn was my captain but also the closest thing I had to a friend on the team. "Fine," I agreed. "But not the usual place." The last thing I needed was more fan encounters.

Thirty minutes later, we were seated in a quiet corner of an upscale steakhouse, menus in hand.

"So," Finn said once we'd ordered. "What's going on? And don't say 'nothing' because you nearly decapitated Reynolds out there."

I sighed, setting down my water glass. "Perfect Home Furnishings wants someone 'family-oriented' for their spokesperson. It would be the biggest endorsement deal of my career, but they're concerned about my image."

Finn nodded thoughtfully. "The Ice Man persona doesn't sell sofas, huh?"

"Apparently not." I ran a hand through my still-damp hair. "Leo thinks I've got no chance unless I can completely overhaul my public image in three months."

"That's tough," Finn said. "Though if anyone needs a warmer image, it's probably you. No offense."

"None taken," I replied dryly. "It's not like I cultivated the Ice Man thing on purpose. It just happened."

Finn grinned. "Sure, because you're such a warm, fuzzy guy naturally."

I flipped him off, which only made him laugh.

"You know what you need?" he said, leaning forward. "A wife."

I choked on my water. "Excuse me?"

"Think about it. Nothing says 'family values' like being happily married. Get yourself a nice, respectable woman, do some cute public appearances together, and boom. Family man image achieved."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," I said flatly. "I'm not getting married for an endorsement deal."

"Who said anything about a real marriage?" Finn raised his eyebrows. "I'm talking about an arrangement. Happens all the time in this business."

I was about to dismiss the idea entirely when my phone rang. Leo's name flashed on the screen.

"What's up?" I answered.

"You are not going to believe this," Leo said, his voice practically vibrating with excitement. "Perfect Home Furnishings saw the viral video."

My stomach dropped. "And they're pulling the offer?"

"Quite the opposite. They're intrigued. They said the interaction seemed real, authentic. Apparently, they liked seeing you with someone who wasn't, and I quote, 'another model or socialite.'"

"What are you talking about?"

"The baker girl, Jax. They actually like the idea of you with someone like her. They think it humanizes you. Makes you seem more approachable."

I was speechless, aware of Finn watching me with interest.

"I've been doing some research," Leo continued, not waiting for my response. "Her name is Sienna Rose Williams. She owns Grandma Rose's Bakehouse. It's been in her family for generations, very wholesome backstory. But get this: the place is in serious financial trouble. She took out a loan last year for renovations, and now she's facing foreclosure if she can't come up with around $150,000 in the next three months."

"How do you know all this?" I asked, uncomfortable with the amount of personal information he'd gathered.

"Public records, social media, a few calls. It's my job to know things, Jax." Leo paused. "Look, I'm not saying you should approach her with some wild proposal, but this could be a mutually beneficial situation."

Finn was gesturing for details. I held up a finger, signaling him to wait.

"I'll think about it," I said to Leo, though I had no intention of pursuing such a ridiculous idea. "I've got to go."

After hanging up, I filled Finn in on the conversation.

"Holy shit," he exclaimed, slamming his hand on the table. "I was joking about the wife thing, but this is perfect. The universe is practically gift-wrapping this opportunity for you."

"It's insane," I argued. "You're suggesting I approach a woman I barely know, a woman who already thinks I'm an asshole, and propose a fake marriage?"

"A mutually beneficial arrangement," Finn corrected. "She needs money, you need an image makeover. It's business."

"It's crazy," I insisted. "Besides, why would she agree to something like that?"

Finn gave me a pointed look. "One hundred and fifty thousand reasons, I'd say."

That night, I sat in my home office, staring at my email. Another rejection from a potential endorsement opportunity, this one a sportswear brand concerned about my "compatibility with their family-friendly values." The same old story.

Almost without thinking, I opened my laptop and typed "Grandma Rose's Bakehouse" into the search bar. The bakery's website appeared, featuring a warm, inviting storefront with vintage signage. I clicked through to the "About" page and found myself looking at a photo of Sienna, flour on her cheek, grinning as she held up a tray of pastries. The caption read: "Owner Sienna Williams continues her grandmother's legacy of bringing homemade joy to Seattle, one pastry at a time."

There were more photos: Sienna with an elderly woman I assumed was her grandmother, Sienna teaching a children's baking class, Sienna with her golden retriever. In every image, she radiated a warmth and authenticity that I recognized was entirely absent from my own public persona.

I scrolled through the bakery's social media, reading Sienna's passionate posts about family recipes and baking traditions. There was something captivating about her evident love for her work, her heritage. It was so different from my own calculated career path.

As I closed my laptop, Leo's words echoed in my mind. A mutually beneficial situation. Could it actually work? The idea was still absurd, but I couldn't deny the potential advantages for both of us. She would save her bakery; I would secure the endorsement deal and reshape my public image.

I tried to imagine Sienna in my house, in my life, even just for a few months. The thought of her warm presence in my cold, sterile space was oddly appealing. I pictured her in my unused kitchen, flour dusting the countertops, the scent of baking filling the empty rooms. I ran a hand absently down my chest, a flicker of heat rising within me at the thought of her touch, of the soft press of her body against mine.

I closed my eyes, letting the image settle. Three months wasn't that long. And it would be strictly business—a transaction benefiting us both.

My decision half-formed, I finally fell asleep, only to be awakened early the next morning by my phone ringing with an unknown number.

"Hello?" I answered, my voice rough with sleep.

"Is this Jax?" a familiar female voice asked.

I sat up straight. "Sienna?"

"Yeah, it's me. The baker you've collided with twice now." She sounded nervous but determined. "I was wondering if we could meet. To discuss your proposition."

I blinked in confusion. "My what?"

"Your agent came to my bakery yesterday," she explained. "He mentioned a potential arrangement that might benefit us both. Something about an endorsement deal and my loan situation."

Leo, of course. The man never could wait for my decisions.

"I see," I said cautiously. "And you're interested in discussing this?"

"I'm interested in hearing more details," she clarified. "Before I make any decisions."

"That's fair." I glanced at the clock, and it was 7:15 AM. "When and where would you like to meet?"

"Somewhere I trust," she said immediately. "How about my bakery?"