Chapter 14 Zoey #2
I always knew I couldn’t build an empire alone.
And with Colt showing up tonight, championing my brand… He’s not just fulfilling a PR obligation for the Leopards.
He’s handing me a piece of the dream I packed away a long time ago.
“Mom! This is the best party ever!" Morgan finds me near the cardamom twists, her face smeared with chocolate. "Isla says her dad might get me backstage passes to a game!”
“That’s great, honey.” I wipe her cheek with my thumb. “Having fun?”
“So much fun! And Samuel Voss is, like, everywhere. He just beat Gabe at arm wrestling!”
I follow her pointing finger to a cleared space near the bar where a crowd has gathered. Gabe Devereaux and Theo are now locked in an epic arm-wrestling match, their faces red with strain, the table groaning under their combined weight.
The crowd cheers as Quinn appears beside me, holding two champagne flutes. She passes me one when Delaney glides onto the small stage at the front of the room, tapping the microphone and cutting the arm-wrestling championship short.
“Testing, testing. Okay, everyone! If I could have your attention!”
The room gradually quiets and Colt appears at my side again. His hand finds mine, and he laces our fingers together and gives my hand a squeeze.
“Welcome, everyone, to the official launch of the Snow Leopards and Butter Batch Bakery partnership!” Delaney begins, her voice extra polished and warm. “Tonight is about community. About celebrating the small businesses that make Chilmore special, and the team that’s proud to call this town home.”
She talks about the partnership’s goals, the exclusive treat that will be sold at The Den on Gameday's, and announces the voting system that will take place over the next week.
"…and the winner will be announced on all our social media channels, so get following, and go Snow Leopards!"
Delaney pumps a fist in the air, and Big Mike takes the stage next, his booming voice quickly filling the room. He talks about legacy, about building something that lasts, about the team being part of the town’s fabric.
Then he nods to Colt.
“And now, I’ll hand it over to the man who’s been the driving force behind making this partnership a reality… our very own Colt Lane!”
Colt releases me, but before I can process the loss of contact, he leans down and his lips brush my cheek. It's so fast, just a quick press of warmth that sends a jolt straight to my toes, but the spotlight tracking him for his walk to the stage illuminates us like we’re the main act.
What the actual hell?! Did he really just kiss me in front of the entire town?
He just straightens up, winks like he’s done nothing more than tie his shoes, and turns to walk onto the stage like it’s completely normal. Like he hasn’t just announced us to the entire room without saying a word.
And then it hits me… the secret he's been taunting me with all week. Every batch test in the kitchen, that smug grin as he'd steal a taste, his casual mentions of my old notebook.
My stomach bottoms out.
Oh, hell. What is he about to do???
Colt takes the microphone, his gaze sweeping the crowd, cool as anything.
“Thanks, Mike.” He smiles, that easy, charming smile. “When I first got assigned to Butter Batch, I’ll be honest… I thought it was a punishment.”
A ripple of laughter goes through the crowd.
“I was benched after my injury and couldn’t play.
I felt… useless.” His eyes find mine in the crowd, and he holds my gaze.
“But then I walked into Zoey’s bakery. I saw the care she puts into every single thing she makes.
Not just the pastries… but the way she knows every regular’s order, the way she remembers birthdays, or the way she makes this town feel like a family even when you’re just stopping in for a muffin. ”
He pauses, glancing toward the display table where my creations sit like little works of art.
“What I didn’t realize at the time was that I wasn’t just walking into a bakery. I was walking into someone’s dream. A dream she’s been building every single day, sunrise to sunset, with food in her hair and a smile on her face. Even when the ovens are fighting her.”
Another ripple of laughter.
“This town,” Colt continues, his voice dropping, “has a way of pulling people in. It gives you a team when you didn’t know you needed one. It gives you a home when you didn’t think you deserved one.”
He gestures to the Snow Leopards banners hanging above us.
“That’s what this partnership is about. It’s not just about selling treats at a hockey game. It’s about building together. It’s about believing in the people who believe in this town.”
The crowd is quiet now, listening.
“And sometimes,” he says, a slow grin spreading across his face, “when you find something that special, you want to make sure the right people are here to celebrate it.”
He glances toward the arched entrance at the back of the room. “So I made a few calls.”
The double doors swing open.
And three large, familiar, impossible figures fill the doorway.
My breath stops.
Because Mason, Declan, and Beck Morrison stand there in a row, all in various states of travel-wrinkled casual wear, all grinning like they’ve just pulled off the greatest heist in history.
Morgan shrieks from the front row. “UNCLE DECLAN! UNCLE BECK! UNCLE MASON!”
She takes off across the room like a purple-and-gold rocket, launching herself at Declan first because he’s the closest. He catches her mid-air, spinning her in a circle that makes her braids fly.
The entire room erupts in applause and confused delight. The Snow Leopards guys are looking back and forth between the newcomers and Colt, who’s still on stage, looking unbearably pleased with himself.
I’m frozen. My brothers. All three of them. Here.
They move through the crowd, and Mason reaches me first, pulling me into a bear hug that lifts me off my feet.
“Surprise, Zo-Zo.”
“How did you—when did you—”
“Your hockey boy called,” Beck says, slinging an arm around my shoulders once Mason sets me down. “Said you were doing something big and you’d want your brothers here. Couldn’t say no to that.”
Declan approaches last, Morgan still clinging to him like a koala. His eyes, the same hazel-green as mine, scan my face, then drift past me to where Colt is now stepping off the stage after encouraging everyone to get voting.
“So that’s him,” Declan says, eyeing Colt as he high fives Delaney like they've plotted this together.
“That’s him,” I whisper back.
Declan’s expression is unreadable for a moment. Then he looks down at Morgan, who’s babbling about brownies and chocolate fountains and how Colt taught her a secret handshake.
“He flew us out,” Declan says simply. “First class and all.”