Page 15 of Pucking My Grumpy Accidental Husband

The hotel lobby is all marble and gold fixtures, the kind of place that screams "expensive" and "we definitely don't want hockey players destroying anything." I'm standing with the coaching staff, trying to look competent while internally panicking about room assignments.

"Dr. Bennett?" The desk clerk hands me a key card. "Room 413. Fourth floor."

"Thank you," I manage, praying my voice sounds normal.

"Kingston, Torres," she continues, "rooms 414 and 412. You're all on the same floor."

I feel the blood drain from my face. Same floor is one thing. But when I catch Dax's eye across the lobby, his expression mirrors my own horror.

We're neighbors. Hotel neighbors. With probably paper-thin walls and?—

"Awesome!" Jamie bounces over, grinning like Christmas morning. "We're all together! This is going to be so much fun."

"That sounds great," I interrupt, because Jamie's enthusiasm is both endearing and terrifying. "I should probably get settled in. Early morning tomorrow."

"Right, of course," Jamie says, then turns to Dax. "Dude, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Dax says quickly, but his jaw is tense. "Just tired."

"Tired," Jamie repeats, clearly not buying it. "Okay, well, I'm gonna go check out the room service menu. You two should come hang out later."

"Maybe," I say, which is code for "absolutely not."

"Definitely not," Dax says at the same time.

Jamie looks between us, his expression shifting from confusion to suspicion. "Are you two... do you know each other or something?"

"No," we both say simultaneously.

"That wasn't suspicious at all," Jamie mutters.

I grab my bag and head for the elevators before this conversation can get any worse. But as I'm waiting for the doors to open, I hear Dax's voice behind me.

"Hold the elevator?"

Fuck.

The doors slide open, and I step inside, hyperaware of how small the space becomes when Dax joins me. He presses the button for the fourth floor, and we stand there in silence as the elevator climbs.

"This is fine," I say to myself, not realizing I've spoken out loud until Dax responds.

"Is it?"

I look at him, and the intensity in those storm-gray eyes makes my breath catch. "It has to be."

The elevator dings, and the doors open to reveal a long hallway lined with identical doors. We walk in silence until we reach our section, and I realize the universe has a sense of humor.

Room 413 is directly between 412 and 414. I'm literally sandwiched between Dax and Jamie.

"Well," I say, stopping in front of my door, "this is me."

"This is me too," Dax says, stopping at 414. Which is right next to mine. As in, we probably share a wall.

"And this is me!" Jamie calls out cheerfully from 412. "We're like one big happy family!"

I fumble with my key card, desperate to get inside before I do something stupid. Like stare at Dax's ass in those perfectly fitting jeans. Or notice how his t-shirt stretches across his chest. Or remember what it felt like to wake up next to him.

"See you tomorrow," I manage, finally getting my door open.