Page 30 of Pucking My Grumpy Accidental Husband
"That's... actually not bad."
"I'm good under pressure."
"Among other things."
Despite the situation, I have to fight back a smile. "Stop it."
Romano glances in our direction, and I see the moment recognition kicks in. He ends his phone call and stands up, heading straight for our table.
"Mr. Kingston! Mike Romano, Chicago Tribune." He extends his hand to Dax, who shakes it politely. "Mind if I ask what brings you and Dr. Bennett together outside the rink?"
"Just a consultation," Dax says smoothly. "Dr. Bennett was generous enough to meet with me about some team psychology strategies."
"That's right," I add, slipping into my professional voice. "Mr. Kingston had some thoughtful questions about supporting younger players who might be struggling with performance anxiety."
"Interesting." Romano's eyes dart between us. "And this required a meeting outside team facilities because..."
"Privacy," I say. "Players need to feel safe discussing mental health concerns without worrying about being overheard or judged by teammates."
"Makes sense." Romano seems to buy it. "Any insights you can share?"
"Player confidentiality prevents me from discussing specifics," I reply, "but I can say that Mr. Kingston demonstrates exceptional leadership qualities and genuine concern for his teammates' wellbeing."
"High praise from the expert," Romano grins. "Kingston, any comment on Dr. Bennett's impact on the team so far?"
"She's incredibly professional and insightful," Dax says without hesitation. "The guys respect her knowledge and appreciate her approach. We're lucky to have her."
"Well, this is great stuff. Mind if I quote you both?"
"As long as you focus on the professional aspects," I say carefully.
"Of course." Romano makes a few notes. "Thanks for your time."
After he leaves, Dax and I sit in silence for a moment, the weight of how close we came to exposure settling between us.
"We should go," I say finally. "Separately."
"Yeah." He signals for the check.
"I'll text you later."
"Okay."
I leave first, walking quickly to my car without looking back. But as I drive home, I can't shake the feeling that we're playing a very dangerous game—and that eventually, our luck is going to run out.
My phone buzzes as I'm pulling into my apartment parking lot.
Dax
Made it home okay?
Yeah. You?
Dax
Yeah. That was close.
Too close.
