Page 60 of Coach's Temptation

"Says the woman who ambushed me in the CEO's kitchen."

"That was different." She snuggles deeper into the blanket, and damn if the sight doesn't do things to me.

"Different how?"

"Very important physical therapy... stuff."

I arch an eyebrow. "Physical therapy stuff?"

"I was checking your… reflexes." Her smile turns wicked. "And just so you know… they seemed fine to me."

"Jesus, Hayes." I scrub a hand over my face, fighting back a laugh. "You're going to be the death of my career."

"At least you'll die happy."

She grins, pulling her blanket tighter, and I take the moment to make my move.

I stand, stepping over to the metal vent by the far ledge. With a firm tug, I pop it open and reach inside.

Natalie watches, brows furrowing. "What are you—"

I pull out a thermos.

Her mouth parts. "Youhidhot chocolate up here?"

I pour a cup and hand it to her, smirking. "Like I said, I plan ahead."

I don't tell her as much, but I'd stashed the thermos up here earlier, knowing I'd need an escape after today. Between Logan's worsening injury in Game Two and Vancouver's increasing aggression on the ice, my head's been a mess of plays and contingency plans to keep the series in our favor.

But watching Natalie's face light up at the hot chocolate makes all that fade away.

She takes the cup, blinking between me and the thermos like she’s reevaluating her entire opinion of me.

Then she bursts out laughing.

"Jesus Christ, Hunter. This is the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for me."

I take a sip of my own drink, side-eyeing her. "That’s… deeply concerning."

She hums, warm cup cradled in her hands. "I’m a simple woman. Give me a warm drink, a soft blanket, and a view likethis, and I might just—" She catches herself, her lips pressing together as if she’s stopping the words before they can escape.

My stomach tightens.

Might just what?

Natalie falls silent and pulls the blanket tighter around her shoulders, cradling her mug of hot chocolate between both hands. The wind brushes her dark hair across her face, and she tucks it behind her ear, eyes fixed on the endless stretch of sky.

I shift so I'm down beside her, moving closer under the blanket. The excuse is warmth, but the reality? I just want to be near her.

“This really is the best view in Iron Ridge,” she murmurs, voice softer than I’m used to.

I nod toward the streets below. “See that building? The one with the shitty balcony railing and the busted front steps?”

Natalie squints, following my gaze, then groans and rolls her eyes. “Oh, shut up. Way to ruin the romance, Brody.”

I smirk. “That’s your building.”

She exhales sharply, shoulders sagging. “Yep. Still on the contractor’s waitlist.”

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