Page 69 of Pucking My Grumpy Roommate
My father’s eyebrows rose slightly at the conviction in my voice. Before he could respond, Kate returned, sliding back into her seat with an apologetic smile.
“Sorry about that,” she said. “I got a text from the lab about my cultures.”
“Bacterial emergency?” I teased, reaching for her hand under the table.
“Not yet, but I’m monitoring the situation,” she replied with mock seriousness before turning to my father. “Harold, I was curious about your perspective on Austin’s playing style. As a former coach, you must have insights that casual fans wouldn’t notice.”
And just like that, she’d given my father the opening to do what he loved most—analyze hockey. For the next twenty minutes, I watched as he detailed the evolution of my defensive strategy over the years, with Kate asking surprisingly insightful follow-up questions that revealed she’d been paying closer attention to my games than I’d realized.
By the time dessert arrived, a small miracle had occurred—my father was treating Kate with genuine respect, and I’d managed to make it through most of a meal with him without feeling like I was being evaluated and found wanting.
CHAPTER 17
KATE
Icouldn't focus on the bacterial cultures in front of me. Not when Austin's words kept replaying in my head like the world's most distracting earworm.
I'm falling in love with you.
The memory sent warmth through my chest—for about the twentieth time that day. I’d said it back—of course I had—but now, in the sterile quiet of the lab, a panicky voice crept in. What did this mean for us? For my career?
"Dr. Ellis, that's the third time you've mixed the same solution."
I jumped, nearly dropping a beaker as Dr. Barnes appeared beside me with her usual silent grace. Her sharp eyes missed nothing.
"Sorry," I mumbled, setting down the pipette. "I was just?—"
"Distracted," she finished, removing her glasses to study me with unusual intensity. "Quite uncharacteristic for you."
I braced myself for the inevitable lecture about focus andprecision, but instead, Dr. Barnes surprised me by setting her clipboard aside and straightening her lab coat.
"Walk with me," she said, already heading toward her office.
I followed her like a condemned prisoner, certain I was about to get chewed out for wasting valuable lab resources. But once inside her office—a space I'd only entered a handful of times—she gestured for me to sit.
"You're in a relationship," she stated rather than asked, adjusting the perfectly aligned stack of journals on her desk.
I nearly choked. "I—what—how did you...?"
"I've been in this field for thirty years, Kate. I recognize the signs of a scientist with her mind elsewhere." Her expression softened almost imperceptibly. "The hockey player, I assume?"
My face burned. "Is it that obvious?"
"Only to someone who's been there." She leaned back in her chair, looking more human than I'd ever seen her. "I was thirty-two when I met my husband. Working on my breakthrough research on antibiotic delivery systems."
"You're married?" I blurted, then immediately regretted it.
Dr. Barnes actually smiled—a rare sight that transformed her severe features. "Twenty-three years next month. Richard is a civil engineer. Builds bridges while I destroy bacteria. Quite complementary."
I struggled to reconcile this new information with the Dr. Barnes I thought I knew—the woman who lived and breathed science, who seemed to exist solely within the confines of the lab.
"How did you... I mean, did you ever worry about balancing everything?"
She studied me carefully. "Every day for the first year. I almost ended things twice, convinced our careers were incompatible." She picked up a small frame on her desk I'd never noticed before, turning it to show me a photo of herself with a kind-faced man on a hiking trail. "Fortunately, Richard was more stubborn than my doubts."
"Austin told me he's falling in love with me," I confessed, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "Using hockey metaphors."
Dr. Barnes's mouth twitched with what might have been amusement. "And how do you feel?"
