Page 62 of The Husband Game

But what was done was done, and with a shake of his head to clear away what was too late to change, Charlie watched Dustin and his teammates skate.

Dustin’s edgework was beautiful, his body positioning and movements more graceful than the other guys out there. He was strong and sure and fast and Charlie could see figure skating training in the way he carved the ice with his blades and his quick changeovers.

Everything he did, from his entries and exits in and out of turns, his weight distribution, alignment, stride, power generation, and hip rotation all spoke of his history working with a figure skating coach.

“Holy shit, he’s good,” Charlie whispered, feeling a little breathless.

Birdie gave him an amused smile. “You’d never watched him before?”

“Not live. Just videos.” He had watched some game footage shortly after he arrived in Toronto, curious to learn more about Dustin. He’d been impressed then, but it was so much better in person. And, well, infinitely more dangerous.

Because competence was sexy and skating competence was kind of the ultimate thing for Charlie. He’d been involved with a few fellow skaters over the years, before realizing it was never a good fit.

But he’d never quite gotten over the sight of a man who looked like he was one with his skates. It made Charlie breathless and greedy to get his hands on Dustin. To show him how his skating made Charlie feel.

And best of all, it washed away all of the earlier apprehension Charlie had felt. How could he be sad when he watched Dustin skate circles around these other guys, dangling the puck as he slipped through the opposing “team” and neatly tucked the puck into the net before the goalie could even react?

Dustin let out a whoop Charlie could hear from across the rink, and he smiled, watching as the guys piled on Dustin, their celebration quickly turning into a wrestling match before someone—a trainer, he presumed—blew the whistle and got the guys back on track.

Speaking of which … Charlie desperately needed a primer on the team. Which was exactly why he’d agreed to come with Birdie to this informal skate today.

Plus, he could get good content for his social media showing what a sweet, supportive hubby he was.

“So, tell me about the other guys here,” Charlie said, bumping his shoulder against Birdie’s. “I need to get caught up.

Birdie looked around. “It’s Fisher Cats guys here for the most part, although I see a few from their AHL affiliate and a couple of players who are here training in Toronto during the off-season. Want me to stick with the sure bet roster guys?”

“Please.”

“So, obviously, you know Dustin is the team’s top line right winger and captain.”

“Ha. Yes. I had figured that out,” Charlie said drily. He’d done his homework and he knew Dustin had been drafted 33rd overall by Toronto, a solid prospect who’d been with the Fisher Cats his entire career.

Birdie gave him a fleeting grin. “So that guy skating away from him, toward the net? That’s Dustin’s center and alternate captain Dominic Olson. He signed with the Fisher Cats … oh, gosh, five years ago, maybe? He was a big acquisition and we really couldn’t have won the Cup without him. He’s very good.”

“Canadian? American? Or European?” Charlie asked as Dominic passed the puck to Dustin.

He could have looked that up too but Birdie would probably give him more interesting details than Google.

“Canadian. I think his mom is French-Canadian or something but he was all over Canada for his early hockey career.”

“Married? Kids?”

“Neither.” Birdie let out a little hum. “He’s kind of an enigma, actually. He never brings dates to team events. Very closed off about his personal life.”

“Hmm. Interesting.” Charlie scanned the ice. “No idea about his sexuality then?”

“Nope. Not a clue. Sorry.” Birdie drummed her nude-colored stiletto-shaped manicure against her purse. It was a very on-trend look and she could totally pull it off. Charlie made a mental note to ask her where she got them done. “Oh, you want to hear about some of the team’s quirks and superstitions too?”

“Obviously,” Charlie said with a little laugh. “Spill, girlie.”

“So, Dominic kisses the ice after each game, win or lose.”

“Eww.” Charlie wrinkled up his nose. “Sounds gross.”

“Right?” Birdie made a face too. “But like … hockey players are gross. Let’s be honest.”

“True.”

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