Page 141 of Coach's Temptation

Natalie

FIVE YEARS LATER

The house is quiet. Too quiet.

Which means Hunter Brody is up to something.

I roll my eyes as I follow the sound of dramatic sighs echoing from the kitchen. Sure enough, I find my husband standing in front of the corpse of his beloved smart fridge, arms crossed, looking like he just lost the Stanley Cup in Game 7.

"Still mourning?" I tease, leaning against the counter.

Hunter lets out a long, suffering groan and presses a hand to his chest. "Natalie, I don't think you understand. We had a bond. She knew my schedule. My meal plans. My—”

I bite back a grin. “You mean she exposed all your dirty little secrets?”

Hunter throws up his hands, ignoring me. "And now she's gone. Just… died. Gave up on life. Can’t help but feel sabotage was involved.”

“Oh, yeah,Itotally plotted against the fridge,” I deadpan.

He eyes me suspiciously. “You were always jealous of our connection.”

I smack his chest. “Oh my God.”

He catches my wrist before I can move away, pulling me against him. His lips brush my forehead, the humor in his voice softening.

"Well, she lasted five years with us, baby. And if we're being honest… she probably saw too much.”

I laugh against his chest, so damn full of love for this ridiculous man.

Because this is us.

A mountainside house straight out of a luxury retreat. Snow-covered peaks overlooking the beautiful town of Iron Ridge, the place I still get to call home each and every day.

Hunter has given me the life I always dreamed of, but never thought possible.

And now, on his birthday, I finally have one BIG surprise for him.

I slide away from his arms and grab the carefully wrapped package from the counter. My hands shake a little as I hold it out.

Hunter quirks an eyebrow, his expression shifting to something curious, then teasing. “You already gave me a gift this morning, baby.”

My cheeks heat at the memory. “Just open it, birthday boy.”

He tears into the wrapping with the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning. I lean back and watch when he pulls out the leather-bound scrapbook I've been working on for months, my heart pounding as his face softens.

“What’s this?”

“Just… look.”

Hunter carefully flips through the pages.

At first, it’s just childhood hockey clippings that his mother kept. Yellowed newspaper articles of his first big wins, old team photos, his parents' careful notes scribbled in the margins as they recall their own memories.

Then as he flips the pages, the images and clippings move to his college career, then the page where I've inserted his first pro contract, the blue ink where he signed a pre-agreement now slightly faded on the page.

And then, he flips the page and I see how deep his swallow goes.

The headline that changed everything.

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