Page 8

I pulled into the driveway of the modest colonial house in southern New Hampshire, my palms inexplicably sweaty against the steering wheel. Riley had insisted on telling her parents about our engagement in person, though we'd agreed to keep the arranged nature of it secret.

"Stop looking so nervous," Riley said from the passenger seat, though she didn't appear entirely calm herself. "They don't bite. Usually."

"It's not every day I meet my fiancée's parents for the first time," I pointed out, turning off the engine. "Especially when we've only been 'dating' for three weeks."

Riley's laugh held a touch of hysteria. "And engaged for two days. Trust me, I'm aware of how this looks."

I reached over and squeezed her hand, trying to offer reassurance. "We've got this. We've been practicing our story. It'll be fine."

Our official narrative was close to the truth—I'd discovered her restaurant, been impressed by the food and her hockey knowledge, and we'd started dating after the charity event.

The timeline was wildly accelerated, but that could be attributed to the whirlwind nature of attraction.

At least, that's what we were hoping her family would believe.

"Ready?" I asked.

Riley nodded, visibly steeling herself. "As I'll ever be."

We'd barely reached the front steps when the door flew open, revealing a tall man in his early sixties with Riley's dark hair, now shot through with gray, and the weathered look of someone who'd spent decades in cold ice rinks.

"There's my girl!" he boomed, sweeping Riley into a bear hug that lifted her off her feet. "And you must be the hockey player who's stolen her heart," he added, setting Riley down and fixing me with an assessing stare that made me feel like a rookie at tryouts.

"Dad, this is Caleb Matthews," Riley said, a slight tremor in her voice. "Caleb, my father, Jim Caldwell."

I extended my hand, summoning every ounce of media training to appear relaxed. "It's an honor to meet you, sir. I've heard a lot about your coaching career."

His handshake was firm but not aggressive—the kind that evaluated rather than intimidated. "Come on in," he said, his expression giving nothing away. "Ellen's just finishing lunch."

The inside of the Caldwell home was warm and inviting, with comfortable furniture that looked well-used and walls covered in hockey memorabilia and family photos.

Riley appeared in most of them, from childhood through culinary school graduation, often alongside a younger boy I assumed was her brother Danny.

A petite woman with Riley's warm brown eyes emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. "You must be Caleb," she said, her smile genuine but evaluating. "I'm Ellen, Riley's mom. Hope you're hungry. I always cook too much."

"Starving," I replied with a smile that wasn't entirely forced. Despite my nervousness, there was something comforting about the Caldwell home—it reminded me of my own family's house in Minnesota, before my father's NHL career had upgraded our surroundings.

"Danny should be here any minute," Ellen continued, leading us toward the dining room. "He's driving up from campus just to meet you."

"Mom," Riley protested, "you didn't need to make this a whole family affair."

"Of course we did," Ellen countered smoothly. "It's not every day our daughter brings home a boyfriend, let alone a fiancé we've never met."

The slight emphasis on "never met" wasn't lost on me. Clearly, my introduction as not just a boyfriend but a fiancé had raised maternal eyebrows.

Before Riley could respond, the front door burst open and a young man bounded in, his resemblance to Riley unmistakable despite his height and broader build.

"Sorry I'm late!" he called, then stopped dead when he saw me. "Holy shit. You're Caleb Matthews."

"Language," Ellen and Jim said in unison, though neither seemed particularly bothered.

"Danny, this is Caleb," Riley said, giving her brother a warning look I couldn't quite interpret. "Caleb, my brother Danny."

"The breakaway king himself," Danny said, extending his hand with barely contained excitement. "Your goal against Montreal last season was insane."

"Thanks," I said, genuinely pleased by his enthusiasm. "Riley tells me you've got scouts coming to watch you play."

Danny's face lit up even more. "Yeah! Coach thinks I've got a real shot at getting drafted. Not first round or anything, but still."

"From what Riley's told me about your play, I wouldn't be surprised to see you go higher than you think," I said, earning a grateful look from Riley and an approving nod from Jim.

Lunch was a slightly tense affair, with Ellen asking pointed questions about our relationship timeline while serving enough food to fuel an entire hockey team.

I drew on my media training to present myself as a man genuinely smitten with Riley, focusing on true details—my discovery of her restaurant, my appreciation for her knowledge of hockey, our shared experiences at the charity event.

"So," Ellen said as she served homemade apple pie, "three weeks of dating and you're engaged. That seems rather... sudden."

Riley tensed beside me. "When you know, you know, Mom."

Ellen's eyebrow rose skeptically. "And what about the restaurant? Will you continue running it after you're married?"

"Of course," Riley and I said simultaneously, which at least lent authenticity to our story. We'd clearly discussed this point.

"Caleb's been incredibly supportive of Hat Trick ," Riley added, reaching for my hand in a gesture that was becoming surprisingly natural. "He understands how important it is to me."

"And the construction issues?" Ellen pressed. "Last time we spoke, you were worried about making rent."

I stepped in smoothly. "We're working through those challenges together. I believe in Riley's vision for Hat Trick , and I'm committed to helping her see it through the rough patch."

Something in my tone must have convinced Ellen, because her expression softened slightly. "Well, that's good to hear. Riley's put her heart and soul into that place."

"And her entire savings account," Jim added dryly. "Not to mention most of her waking hours."

"It's a sound business," I said firmly. "The location is great aside from the temporary construction issues, and her food is exceptional. Hat Trick just needs some runway to get past this obstacle."

Jim studied me over his coffee cup. "And you're prepared to provide that runway, I take it?"

"Dad," Riley protested, her cheeks flushing.

"It's a fair question," Jim countered. "You two barely know each other, and suddenly he's helping with the restaurant's financial troubles?"

"I have the means to help," I said simply. "And I care about Riley. Why wouldn't I support something that's important to her?"

Jim seemed to consider this, then nodded once. "Fair enough."

After dessert, while Riley helped her mother clear the table and Danny peppered me with questions about life in the NHL, Jim caught my eye and tilted his head toward the back door.

"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."