Page 30

The scent of butter, sugar, and vanilla filled the bakery as I piped blue and white icing onto playoff-themed cookies. Outside, a line had already formed despite the early hour — hockey fever had gripped Seattle completely, and Grandma Rose's Bakehouse had become an unexpected hub for Kraken fans seeking good-luck treats.

"We're going to need another batch of those Kraken tentacle Danish," I called to an employee, sliding a tray of cookies into the display case. "They're selling faster than I can make them."

The bakery's newfound popularity should have filled me with uncomplicated joy. After all, just months ago I'd been facing foreclosure. Now, thanks to Jax and our arrangement, the bakery was not only secure but thriving. The loan was paid off, we had new equipment, and our social media following had quadrupled.

But the financial security had been replaced by emotional uncertainty. Jax's words from the other night — I love you — replayed constantly in my mind, followed immediately by the memory of Coach Miller's ill-timed phone call that had interrupted what should have been the most important conversation of my life.

We'd barely had a moment alone since then, between playoff preparations and my bakery commitments. The unfinished declaration hung between us like a partially completed recipe — all the essential ingredients measured out but never quite baked.

The bakery's front door chimed, pulling me from my thoughts. I glanced up, expecting the usual morning rush, but instead found Chloe slinking in through the side entrance, twenty minutes late and looking decidedly... rumpled.

Her typically immaculate hair was hastily gathered in a messy bun, her blouse misbuttoned, and was that... a faint mark on her neck? My eyes widened as I took in the guilty flush spreading across her cheeks.

"You're late," I said, fighting to keep my expression neutral.

"Traffic," she mumbled, avoiding eye contact as she tied on her apron.

"Uh-huh. Traffic gave you that hickey too?"

Chloe's hand flew to her neck, her eyes wide. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only to someone who's known you for a decade." I grinned, leaning against the counter. "So... are we finally going to discuss what's been happening between you and a certain sports agent?"

She busied herself with arranging pastries, but the blush deepened. "There's nothing to discuss."

"The hickey on your neck suggests otherwise."

Chloe glanced around to ensure no other staff were within earshot before sighing deeply. "Fine. I spent the night with Leo."

"I gathered that much." I wiggled my eyebrows. "Details, please."

"It just... happened. We were arguing about the delivery schedule for the team's morning pastries, and then suddenly we were..." She trailed off, her expression softening into something I'd never seen on my cynical friend's face before. "He's different when we're alone. Less Leo-the-agent and more just... Leo."

"And this is the first time you've..." I raised an eyebrow.

"God, no." She laughed, then looked embarrassed by her own admission. "It's been happening for a couple weeks. But last night was the first time I stayed over."

"And?"

"And it was nice," she admitted, her voice quieter now. "Really nice. He made me breakfast. No one's ever done that before."

I squeezed her hand. "I'm happy for you."

"Don't be," she replied quickly. "I'm terrified, Sienna. This is the same guy who ghosted me in college, remember? What happens when he gets bored again or decides his career is more important?"

"Maybe he's changed," I suggested gently. "Maybe you both have."

"People don't change that much." But her expression belied her words, a flicker of hope visible beneath the skepticism.

"Sometimes they do." I thought of Jax – the cold, distant hockey player who'd first proposed our arrangement versus the man who'd whispered he loved me. "Sometimes people just need the right catalyst."

"Like you and Jax?" she asked, watching me closely. "Don't think I haven't noticed how real things have gotten between you two."

Heat rose to my cheeks. "That's different."

"Is it?" She raised an eyebrow. "You entered a fake marriage for mutual benefit, and now you can barely keep your eyes off each other. At least Leo and I started with honest attraction, however hostile."

"It's complicated," I muttered, turning back to my cookie decorating.

"Love usually is," she replied with surprising gentleness. "That's what makes it scary. And worth it."

The afternoon rush kept us too busy for further personal discussion, but Chloe's situation lingered in my mind. She was choosing to risk heartbreak for a chance at happiness, despite past hurts and logical reasons for caution. Her courage made my own hesitation seem cowardly in comparison.

I was piping delicate rosettes onto a playoff-themed cake when the bakery door chimed again. Looking up, I was startled to see Jax standing there in training clothes, his hair still damp from what must have been a post-practice shower. Several customers immediately recognized him, whispers and not-so-subtle phone cameras tracking his movement as he made his way directly to the counter.

"Hey," he said, his voice softer than his public persona would suggest. "Do you have a minute? To talk?"

The weight of those words – to talk – sent my heart ricocheting against my ribs. "I'm a little swamped right now," I hedged, gesturing to the half-finished cake.

"It's important." His eyes held mine, a quiet intensity in them that I couldn't refuse.

"I'll cover," Chloe offered immediately, taking the piping bag from my hands. "Take your time."

I led Jax to my small office in the back and closed the door behind us, creating a bubble of privacy amid the bakery's constant bustle.

He seemed uncharacteristically nervous, hands in his pockets, shifting his weight slightly. "I did something," he began. "Something I probably should have discussed with you first."

My stomach dropped. Had he changed his mind about his declaration? Was he here to tell me he'd spoken impulsively, that we should stick to our original plan?

Instead, he pulled out his phone and showed me architectural renderings – beautiful, detailed plans for what appeared to be an expanded version of Grandma Rose's Bakehouse.

"I bought the building next door," he said, watching my face carefully. "For the bakery expansion you've talked about. The café section you've always wanted."

I stared at the images, unable to process what I was seeing. The designs were stunning – preserving the historic character of the original bakery while creating a connected café space with comfortable seating, large windows, and display cases that would showcase pastries like works of art.

"You bought a building?" I finally managed.

He nodded, scrolling through more images. "The one that used to be that vintage clothing store. I had an architect create these based on ideas I've heard you mention. Everything's preliminary – you'd have full control over the final designs, of course."

My mind raced, trying to make sense of this gesture. The expansion I'd dreamed of but never thought possible due to Seattle's astronomical real estate prices. The café space that would honor Grandma Rose's legacy while creating something new. A significant, permanent investment in my business.

"Jax, this is..." I struggled to find words. "It's incredibly generous. But I can't accept something this substantial."

"Why not?"

"Because it's too much. Because our arrangement is temporary. Because in a few weeks, we'll have fulfilled the contract and—"

"What if I don't want it to be temporary?" he interrupted, his voice low but firm. "What if I want—"

The office door burst open as Leo appeared, Olivia right behind him, both looking uncharacteristically harried.

"Sorry to interrupt," Leo said, not sounding sorry at all, "but we have a situation."

Jax's expression shifted instantly from vulnerable to professional. "Is this about Perfect Home Furnishings? I haven't even talked to Sienna about continuing this for another year yet. Honestly, this can wait."

Olivia stepped into the crowded office, closing the door firmly. "No, it's urgent and different from their previous request. They want to capitalize on the playoff momentum with a public vow renewal ceremony immediately after the Finals, regardless of the outcome."

"A vow renewal?" I repeated, the words feeling distant and strange. "But we've only been married a few months."

"It's the perfect narrative," Leo insisted. "The whirlwind romance that's grown even stronger through the playoff journey. They're offering an additional contract extension of 3 years for you, Jax, worth nearly double the original."

Jax's expression remained unreadable as he processed this information. "When do they need an answer?"

"Yesterday," Olivia replied dryly. "The PR team is already scouting venues."

I felt strangely disconnected from the conversation swirling around me – talk of venues and photographers and guest lists, all for a ceremony celebrating a marriage that had begun as a business transaction. Yet in the midst of these practical details, Jax's interrupted question echoed in my mind: What if I don't want it to be temporary?

The discussion concluded with tentative agreements and promises to review contracts.

That evening, we walked Sprinkles together in strained silence, both acutely aware of the unfinished conversation from my office. The park was quiet, most people home preparing dinner or watching playoff coverage. When we reached the bench where we often rested during our walks, Jax gestured for me to sit.

"About what I was trying to say earlier," he began, his voice low and uncharacteristically hesitant. "Before we were interrupted."

I nodded, my heart racing so loudly I was certain he could hear it.

"I meant what I said the other night," he continued, his eyes meeting mine with unwavering intensity. "I love you. And not as part of our arrangement or for the cameras or any contract."

My breath caught in my throat, the simple declaration more powerful in its directness than any elaborate speech could have been.

"I bought that building because I want the bakery expansion to be real. I want to be part of your future, Sienna." His voice grew quieter, more vulnerable than I'd ever heard from the usually confident hockey star. "I'd like to know if you would consider continuing our relationship beyond the contract. Not as an arrangement. As something real."

The vulnerability in his expression left me breathless. This wasn't the Ice Man or the calculated professional who had first proposed our arrangement. This was simply Jax – the man who remembered how I took my coffee, who carried me to bed when I fell asleep on the couch, who'd learned to bake cookies at midnight just to share something important to me.

"I have feelings for you too," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "Feelings that have nothing to do with contracts or arrangements."

Relief and joy transformed his expression as he reached for my hands. "So we're doing this? For real?"

"For real," I confirmed, a smile breaking across my face. "Though I should warn you, I'm a lot to handle without contractual obligations."

"I'm counting on it," he replied, leaning forward to capture my lips in a kiss that held nothing back – no audience to perform for, no cameras to convince. Just us, a bench in a quiet park, and the promise of something neither of us had been looking for but had found nonetheless.

When we finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, Sprinkles looked up at us with what could only be described as canine approval.

"She saw this coming before we did," I laughed, scratching behind the dog's ears.

"Smarter than both of us," Jax agreed, his arm sliding around my shoulders as we began the walk home – not to the house we shared through arrangement, but to the home we were creating together.