Coming from anyone else, I'd already be throwing my door open, tucking and rolling. We're only going about twenty-five miles an hour, I'd probably walk away with minimal road burn.
But Darren… Well, there's that dangerous five-letter word again. Trust.
Before I can press further, I realize we've gone from nice suburban homes to sprawling mansions in the blink of an eye. And of course, Darren pulls into the circular driveway in front ofthe very biggest one. The kind of place that looks like it belongs in a magazine spread about the lifestyles of the rich and famous.
And I guess that's exactly what this pack is.
Last chance to dive out of the car, Lexie.
"Thisis where you live?" I ask, unable to keep the awe from my voice.
"Home sweet home," Darren confirms, putting the car in park. "Five hockey players under one roof, and yes, it's as chaotic as it sounds."
I try to imagine it. Five large, athletic men sharing a space, with all the testosterone and competitive energy that implies. It's both intimidating and oddly appealing.
Darren comes around to open my door, offering his hand to help me out. The gesture is old-fashioned but sweet, and I find myself smiling as I take it. His palm is warm against mine, and I have a sudden flash memory of those hands on my body two nights ago.
Focus, Lexie.
"Nervous?" Darren asks, noticing my hesitation as we approach the front door.
"A little," I admit. "It's not every day you get a formal apology from four professional hockey players."
"If it helps, they're nervous too," he says, squeezing my hand reassuringly. "Especially Aidan. Poor rookie's been stress-baking all day. The kitchen looks like a bakery exploded."
The mental image of a six-foot-four goalie frantically baking makes me smile despite my nerves. He was so intense when I met him, it's hard to imagine him painstakingly measuring out the ingredients for muffins. "Well, at least we won't go hungry."
Darren's answering grin is infectious. "That's the spirit."
He opens the front door without knocking, calling out as we step inside. "We're here!"
The entryway opens into a spacious living room with high ceilings and large windows. The decor is masculine but tasteful, leather furniture, rich wood tones, and subtle hockey memorabilia integrated into the design. It feels lived-in and comfortable, not at all the bachelor pad I was expecting.
Four men appear from various directions, converging on the living room with an almost comical synchronicity. They're all dressed casually but neatly, as if they've put thought into their appearances without wanting to seem like they're trying too hard.
Jax reaches us first, his imposing height and broad shoulders making the large room feel suddenly smaller. He's wearing a simple gray henley that brings out the silver in his eyes, and his expression is solemn but welcoming.
"Lexie," he says, voice deep and steady. "Thank you for coming."
Before I can respond, Aidan bounds forward, practically vibrating with nervous energy like an overgrown puppy. He's in a green plaid button-down with the sleeves rolled up over his muscular forearms, flour dusting one of them. His hair, tousled the last time, has been carefully slicked back, but a strand in front bounces out with his movement, falling into eyes that aren't quite as sharky as I remember them being.
"Hi! Welcome! I made, um, pretty much everything," he says in a rush. "There's cookies and brownies and this lemon cake thing I saw on Instagram, and I wasn't sure what you'd like so I just?—"
"Breathe, rookie," Zayn interrupts, stepping forward with feline grace. Unlike the others, he's dressed more sharply in dark jeans and a fitted black sweater that looks expensive. His dark eyes assess me with an intensity that makes me want to fidget. It's not unfriendly, though. Quite the opposite. I can't help but wonder if maybe the intensity I felt emanating from all of themat that first disastrous meeting was something else entirely, but I immediately dismiss it as wishful thinking.
"What the puppy is trying to say," he continues, "is that we're glad you came."
Dmitri is the last to approach, moving with a deliberate calm that contrasts sharply with Aidan's nervous energy. He's somehow even taller than I remembered, with broad shoulders and light blond hair that falls slightly into his piercing blue eyes. He nods once in greeting, a small but genuine smile softening his intimidating presence. I get the feeling smiling isn't something he does often.
"Welcome to our home," he says, his accent wrapping around the words, rendering that deep voice soothing.
Standing here surrounded by them, I'm struck again by how physically imposing they all are. Each one is over six feet tall, with the kind of athletic build that comes from years of professional training. They're a study in just how different alphas can be with Jax's quiet authority, Aidan's boyish enthusiasm, Zayn's sharp edges, and Dmitri's watchful calm, but there's something cohesive about them too. They belong together.
And then there's Darren, solid and reassuring beside me, his hand still holding mine like an anchor in unfamiliar waters.
"So," I say, breaking the slightly awkward silence that's fallen. "What's this about cake?"
Just like that, the tension breaks and Aidan's face lights up with relief. "Yes! Tons of cake. And other stuff. Come on, everything's set up in the dining room."
