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A thena dragged herself up the front steps of her parents’ wide front porch, balancing the platter of leftover huckleberry tarts her sister had forgotten to take from the shop.

She opened the screen door and it hissed, feeling different.

She looked down at its hinges, noticing white hydraulic tubes. She released the door. It stayed open.

She smiled. Meddy had found a contractor.

Athena reached to open the inner door and as she took a step forward she stumbled. She caught the tray of tarts in the nick of time and looked down. A ramp. A short one, but with enough of a slope that the two-inch rise from the porch to the house was no longer a problem for a wheelchair.

She’d have to remind Meddy to tell her what her half cost. Weird that her sister hadn’t mentioned it already. Although maybe she had, and Athena had dropped it from her fully-crammed mind.

She needed to slow down, breathe, lower her stress. Would it be a big deal if she lost her dietician job or the cookbook contract because of Chad’s behavior? Not really. She had the store. And you didn’t need much in the way of pride to run your own business in a small town.

She’d just never date again. Ever.

Noticing the screen door was still open, she pushed on it, releasing its latch, noting that there was an expensive sports car parked out front of the neighbor’s house a few doors down.

Why was it that any nice car made her think of Chad?

She needed a brain wash. Something that would erase him from her mind.

The door hissed shut, the new hydraulics slowing its movement. Nice. Now, as her mom came and went on her own with her cane or wheelchair, it wouldn’t bang into her.

“Hello?” she called. The fatigue and general glumness that had been following her since she’d snapped at Chad for the gala clip slid away as she took in the familiar living room.

She had a lot to be grateful for. From the new ramp that allowed her mother more freedom, to the fact that the store was doing all right, to how her cookbook was a wrap—if it didn’t get canceled despite the rumor that its pre-order numbers were up thanks to Chad’s mini scandal.

And tonight she got to enjoy breakfast and games with her family.

She was no longer living afar, like she had been last year while in Jersey with Lonnie.

She wasn’t even going to think about Chad tonight.

Not about how much she missed him, or how much it hurt that his professional image was about to destroy her own. Or how the media storm surrounding him and her cookbook had suddenly calmed. It was like she was in the eye of the hurricane, fearing the next round was just about to hit.

She’d literally been locking herself in her arena office, knowing she had to avoid Chad.

If she didn’t, her stupid seahorse ovaries might decide to wave off their very real relationship problems and forgive him.

There was just too much in need of fixing.

She’d kidded herself into believing it would all be okay, ignoring the red flags that surrounded getting involved with him.

And she definitely wasn’t going to think about how much she wished they’d found a way to make a relationship work for them. Or how much she longed for another one of those hot kisses that made her feel so wanted and needed. Understood.

She hadn’t heard from him since she’d ghosted his first two text messages shortly after she’d marched out of the arena over a week and a half ago, high on her anger and the fear of losing her job and book contract.

Not hearing from him after that stung more than she wanted to admit. A lot more. She’d expected him to at least try, to be relentless.

Instead, it was as if he’d simply moved on, and as though the easy laughter and flirtation while cooking shoulder to shoulder in her videos hadn’t been special to him.

She hated cooking now. Well, not quite, but filming videos with other NHLers wasn’t in the same galaxy as having Chadwick Mullens behind her counter.

Balancing the tarts, she rounded the short hall that junctioned the living room, bedrooms and kitchen. She stopped short.

A tall man with wonderfully broad shoulders was washing his hands at the kitchen sink. She knew that frame. Knew the way the broad torso narrowed at the hips. The way his dark hair needed a trim.

That hunk was the reason for her broken heart.

Why was she such a hopeless fool when it came to men like Chad? She’d known. Known . And she’d gone ahead and fallen, anyway.

“Hey, Athena,” Meddy said, taking the platter from her. “Thanks for bringing these.”

“What’s he doing here?” She dragged her sister to the kitchen doorway. Meddy, who had been setting the tarts on the island counter, stumbled and flailed as Athena manhandled her into the living room before Chad could turn around to check out the clattering behind him.

“He made the ramps and worked on the screen door,” Meddy whispered, her eyes wide.

“He’s not a contractor.”

“Even better, because he didn’t charge. And you should see Mom. She’s grinning like crazy.”

“You asked him?”

Meddy smiled, but before Athena could get upset with her sister, Chad appeared in the living room doorway.

“What do you know about construction?” Athena demanded, hands on her hips.

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “A bit, I guess.” He shot Meddy an apologetic grimace. “ I should head out.”

“Were you helping out at Maverick’s?” Athena asked, needing to know how he’d ended up here, in her town, working on her family’s home. Had he driven out with other Dragons to work on the team captain’s farmhouse? Or were he and Meddy in cahoots?

“He gave me some scrap bits of plywood for the ramps, but I’m not really part of the gang over there.”

“Then what part are you?”

He shrugged, looking like the loner kid on the playground. Damn, but that pulled on her heartstrings.

His perfect wool sweater had sawdust clinging to it, suggesting he’d been roped into this somehow, that he hadn’t come prepared to work construction on the Gavras home.

“Mav would say yes if you asked,” Athena said, giving in a little.

“Yeah, but I may never get out of there again,” Chad joked.

“True.” The house, from what she’d heard, was an endless pit of renovations.

Her parents came down the hallway from their bedroom, Darianna in the lead. Her face lit up as she spun her wheelchair their way. “Did somebody call me? I felt my ears burning.”

“Hey, Mom,” Athena said, bending to kiss her on the cheek.

“I should go,” Chad said again, hesitantly enough that it was clear he was hoping someone would stop him.

“Excuse me, Chad, but this has already been discussed.” Darianna was using her Mom tone and Athena cringed. “You’re staying for supper.”

“I have a pretty strict diet.” His eyes cut to Athena.

“This is one of Athena’s recipes, so you should be fine.”

“It’s not like you follow the diet anyway,” she muttered. She instantly wished she could take back her words, knowing they weren’t true, and that it was an unfair dig.

It didn’t help that he seemed less larger-than-life than usual today. More humble and subdued, like a kid afraid he was going to be kicked out.

But she had a right to her anger. It was him lying about his diet that had put two of her careers on the rocks.

“Actually,” Athena said, feeling a sudden lightness as she thought of the perfect excuse to have him leave, “Chadwick doesn’t do pancakes. And tonight is breakfast and games.”

His mouth dropped open and his eyes cast downward, hiding the flash of pain that had crossed them like lightning through a night sky.

“Chad, hon,” Darianna said, shooting Athena a look of disappointment, “you are always welcome here. And you don’t have to eat pancakes. We’re serving other things as well. We’ll put on extra scrambled eggs and whole grain toast, won’t we, Athena? Do you like eggs?”

He nodded and everyone was silent for a beat, Athena feeling put in her place for being rude and unwelcoming.

“And actually,” he said quietly, “I do eat pancakes. I just haven’t in a long time.”

“Well, if you want them, we have them. If you don’t, no harm done.

Now let’s get this show on the road. Everyone must be hungry.

” Darianna wheeled into the kitchen, taking charge.

Meddy set the table while Neandro began piling ingredients on the counter.

Chad went to the back door off the kitchen and let his little dog in from the fenced yard.

“He’s such a sweet boy,” her mom said, referring to the hulking, strong man. She lifted her voice and patted her lap, cooing at the puppy, “Come here, you little ragamuffin.”

The dog was across the room in a few bounds, landing on her lap and curling into a ball as if he’d done it all his life.

What on earth had gone on here today?

“You adopted it?” Athena asked Chad.

“ It has a name,” he said pointedly, obviously feeling enough at home to poke at her.

“Stitches,” Meddy said.

“You named him Stitches?”

“Nah, Brant did. It kind of works, don’t you think?”

Athena shrugged.

“What can I do to help, Mrs. Gavras?” Chad asked, standing beside her wheelchair.

With a smile, she rolled backward. “Call me Darianna. You good with a knife?”

“Not especially, but he still has all of his digits,” Athena muttered.

Chad wiggled his fingers to prove it.

“Good enough for this kitchen. Make the fruit salad, dear.” Her mom gestured to the fruit bowl in the middle of the counter, giving Athena a warning glance, before turning warmly to the hockey player.

“Whatever you want in the salad, chop up and put in the big bowl. Athena, you make the eggs,” she added.

“And Neandro, did you start the sausage?”

He tilted the sizzling pan in his wife’s direction.

“Don’t drop them!” She laughed, and he quickly swung the pan, tipping the rolling turkey sausages back to safety.

Chad smiled, seeming comfortably ensconced in her family’s kitchen. What. On. Earth?