Dear Roomie

by Kate Meader

  Please give me a sign.

  The puppy squirmed a little. Not dead yet.

  Foreman closed the gap. “You need a hand there?”

  Did he want to be beholden to this guy, of all people? The dog was the priority here. Now wasn’t the time for grudges.

  “Yeah, I do. Could you …?” He passed the blanket-wrapped package to Cal, who cradled it with an assurance that told Reid he’d made the right call. “I—well, we pulled him out of the lake. I need to get him warm and feed him. I don’t think he’s eaten in a while.”

  Without waiting for an answer, Reid walked toward the front entrance to his apartment building, knowing good guy Foreman would follow. He was alert to the sounds Foreman was making, barely intelligible words of comfort as if the dog was a child.

  He usually took the stairs because it was just three floors, and today he figured it would be quicker anyway. Once inside Reid’s apartment, Foreman placed the dog down gently on the sofa. “I’m guessing you don’t have any dog food.”

  “No, but I can go out and get some.” Reid shivered as he spoke. Could he trust Foreman? Now that his teammate was on hand, maybe he’d dogsit while Reid went for a food run.

  “Got any deli turkey or corn?” Cal asked. “Those are pretty safe foods for dogs.”

  Reid didn’t realize how relieved he was not to have to leave the puppy so soon until Foreman presented a solution. Sounded like he knew what he was talking about. Probably had a big, friendly Lab when he was a kid. No one had ever told him animals were for winners.

  Fuck, not now, Henri.

  He turned toward the kitchen but Foreman spoke up before he got a step off.

  “I can take care of this. Why don’t you hop in the shower?”

  Leave the dog alone? Sure, he’d been willing to do so a moment ago when he thought he had to pillage for food, but in all truth, he never wanted to let this puppy out of his sight.

  “I have a dog of my own,” Cal assured him, evidently reading into Reid’s hesitation because he was one of those intuitive types who understood shit and wowed women and dogs with their sensitivity. “He’ll be safe for a few minutes.”

  Reid ran a hand over the mutt’s head. All those scars. All that pain. “I will be back soon.”

  In the shower he let the water chase away the chill in his bones and thought about what Kennedy had said about taking the dog to a shelter. She was right. Reid couldn’t take care of him, not with his travel and practice schedule. He could kennel him, but that would mean taking him in and out, with no semblance of stability. A dog like this, one who had been battered, bruised, and abandoned, needed an owner who was all in.

  Something pinged in his brain, something Foreman had said. A dog of my own …

  Out in the living room, he found the man from Boston on his sofa and the puppy on the rug, next to a bowl surrounded by corn kernels. He had eaten and Reid’s heart checked. He would have liked to have seen that; now he felt as though he’d missed out on an important first in the relationship between man and beast. The dog had probably bonded to fucking Foreman now.

  “How is he?” Reid sat on the rug beside the dog and rubbed his head. The abject creature raised it slightly, as if craving Reid’s touch. It must have been a while since anyone showed him kindness.

  “Tuckered out after a snack and the afternoon’s festivities.”

  Reid turned his attention to Foreman, eager to get this, whatever this was, over with. “Are you here to apologize?”

  “Yep.”

  “Not necessary.”

  “I happen to think it is. Sure you were a dick. You are a dick. An apology from me doesn’t change that, but I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

  Reid assessed him. “Sometimes it’s good to let it out.”

  “That’s what the game is for.”

  “Pity you don’t get enough shifts, then.”

  Foreman laughed, so good-natured about it all. Just like Reid’s brother. “We’re having a moment here. Why you wanna be an asshole about it?”

  “Someone’s got to be in my family.”

  Foreman studied him, looked like he was about to ask something else, but took a left turn instead of right. “How did your friend end up in the lake?”

  “There are no limits to people’s cruelty.” Reid would happily beat the tar out of whoever had hurt this creature. He peered up at Foreman. “Looks like you’ve sorted things out with Petrov.”

  “For the most part.”

  “And La Petrova?”

  “Not sure that’s fixable.”

  “Now who’s the dick?” Mia clearly wanted Foreman. Foreman clearly wanted Mia, as evidenced by their back-and-forth in front of the well-heeled fundraiser crowd last night. So tiresome. “That performance last night at the auction? She bid on you to make a point.”

  “Yeah, the point being that she can buy and sell me a million times over and then pass me off to my ex.” Reid didn’t know all the details, but that sounded overly complicated and not remotely true.

  “You’re even dumber than you look.”

  Foreman merely shrugged. “Mind if I make a sandwich?”

  “Yes.” He would prefer Foreman left. He had proven useful but now Reid wanted to be alone. His undesired guest refused to take the hint, just walked into the kitchen and removed sandwich fixings from the fridge.

  Reid looked down at his new friend—the dog—and ran a hand over his frail body. He needed to get him food, shots, and a roof over his head. Foreman emerged from the kitchen with two plates and put them down on the coffee table.

  That was it, the tickle of a thought. “You said you have a dog.”

  Foreman picked up a sandwich and bit into it. The fucker actually waited until he’d swallowed before he answered. “Yep.”

  “Who looks after it when you’re playing and traveling?”

  “I co-own him with my ex. She’s in Boston so I only see him when I play there or make a visit.”

  That didn’t solve anything. “That works? The co-owning situation?”

  “Sure,” Foreman said around his chewing. “But I don’t have to live with her, which helps. If I could have him here, I’d need someone else on deck to watch him.” He gestured with his sandwich to the dog. “Thinking of keeping him?”

  “I’d like to.” Never had a statement about something so important sounded so bland. He wanted to keep this dog with a force that scared him.

  Henri wouldn’t let him have a dog when he was a kid and now Reid could do whatever he wanted. Maybe he was using the dog to make a point—what exactly, he wasn’t sure. He just knew that he would make a good caretaker for this poor thing.

  “You could kennel him but a dog like this needs special attention,” Foreman said.

  “I could hire someone to look after him while I’m away, perhaps.”

  Her. Coffee Shop Girl. He could hire her.

  She obviously had experience with animals, and how much could she be earning walking dogs and working in a coffee shop? Two jobs, probably part-time. Likely, she was barely making ends meet. This would be the perfect solution.

  If his heart started hammering like a runaway train, he would swear in a court of law it was because he was excited about owning a dog.

  “You should eat,” Foreman said. “I make a good sandwich.”

  Reid picked up the other sandwich, spotting gouda, turkey, lettuce, and when he bit into it, he tasted mayo and a dash of mustard. Usually he wouldn’t eat mayo during the season. He didn’t even realize he had it but Bastian had stopped by yesterday with groceries, a stunt he had started pulling lately to mess with him.

  He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until now. “So you make a good sandwich. It’s hardly rocket science.”

  “Ungrateful pup.”

  That made Reid laugh, which obviously surprised Foreman, whose eyebrows rose in puzzlement.

  Feeling unaccountably magnanimous, Reid said, “You need to fix things with Mia.”

  Foreman sighed. “
You’re matchmaking now.”

  “Now? I’ve been rooting for you kids from the start.”

  “Asshole.” Foreman looked mildly amused, then thoughtful. After a few seconds, he jumped to his feet. “From the start … Durand, you’re a genius.”

  “I know.”

  But Foreman was already out the door so fast he left scorch marks on Reid’s hardwood floor.

  Reid looked at his new roommate, who, on hearing the front door slam, jumped to his feet and ran around the living room, barking.

  “Looks like someone has his mojo back. You up for a visit to the coffee shop?”

  7

  Because the universe hated her, Kennedy’s foldable travel hairdryer, which had always been too precious for its own good, chose this moment to crap out. She checked the mirror of the locker room at the Y, sighed at her half-damp and unsexily tousled locks, and decided, good enough.

  It would have to be.

  She’d tried to get a job here teaching yoga when she first landed in Chicago three months ago, but no luck, hence her Frankenstein-ing of various side hustles to make a full hustle. Today she was back—still no magical job—but was forced to pony up the monthly membership fee.

  Sixty-nine bucks for unlimited shower access would be a bargain if Kennedy wasn’t so broke. While she had downtime, which was looking like a distinct possibility, she could take free Aqua Fit and yoga classes. She might be qualified to teach it, but it never hurt to check in on how other practitioners were dispensing the latest wisdom.

  Jumping in the lake was definitely one of her more bone-headed moves. The “rescuer” looked like he was struggling. The “rescuee” looked like he was in trouble. She was a great swimmer and wasn’t one for second-guessing, well, anything. Once she decided on a course of action, she went full-throttle into the wind.

  Or the water.

  Discovering who she was rescuing had been, to say the least, a shock. Hot Jerk, himself. Complainer-in-Chief. Thief of employment.

  Yet, back on land, she’d curled into his strong touch like a kitten seeking shelter. His big hands on her shoulders and his warm breath on her neck as he slipped her coat back on set her heart and hormones aflutter, all signs that she was a little too desperate for human contact. It had been a while since she’d had a man-made orgasm, and now it looked like it would be even longer because nothing dimmed the fires of lust better than financial ruin and homelessness.

  She hoped the dog was okay. Someone had hurt him badly, then threw him away. Kennedy was a sucker for a dog in distress. With his bright eye and scampish expression, this bedraggled creature had looked a little like her childhood puppy Peanut. At least she was able to save this one …

  Anger flared. Oh, how she would happily do a murder if she ever found the culprit.

  Back to her current dilemma. She checked Craigslist again, and while there were plenty of apartments in Chicago, they were mostly out of her price range. She needed to save every penny for her return flight to Thailand in January for the job she’d lined up. Years traveling outside the US had affected her credit and she would never pass the background check. A roommate situation would be better, but the one she visited yesterday had definitely given her creeper vibes.

  Never trust a guy with a waterbed.

  Now she needed to figure out where she could park her car tonight so as not to draw the attention of any nosey passersby.

  Or worse.

  Back to the beach, perhaps, site of her great adventure in dog rescue. Did they gate it at night? If that didn’t work, she could park at the strip mall close to the highway. After eleven it was completely empty.

  The phone rang, and Kennedy’s heart rate ticked upward. She had left a message for a room in an all-female collective, so was ever hopeful.

  “Is this Kennedy?”

  That voice. Either someone was about to sell her car insurance or Hot Jerk had tracked her down.

  “Might be.”

  “This is Reid Durand. We went swimming together earlier.”

  Cute. But then she recalled not cute. This asshole had cost her a job.

  “Is the dog okay?”

  “Bucky? Oui, just fine. Shitting everywhere, eating me out of house and home, and generally taking over.”

  “His name is Bucky?”

  He paused a beat. “Yeah, after Bucky Barnes from the Avengers? First I thought I’d do Fury—”

  “Because of the one eye.”

  “Right, but he didn’t respond to that. The vet said he’d broken his leg a few times but it didn’t heal so well. He’s got a slight limp and some other scars.” She heard his sharp, angry intake of breath. “And with what he’s been through, it seemed … well, anyway, he responded to Bucky.”

  Despite her best efforts, a smile played on her lips. She could see the dog as the Winter Soldier: tortured, bruised, in need of his best friend—and saving his best friend from a watery demise. She liked how Hot Jerk had thought that through.

  Then she remembered that she didn’t like much else about him.

  “How did you get this number?”

  “Mia Wallace gave it to me. I heard you lost your job.”

  “Oh, did you now.”

  He sniffed. “I just got back from the coffee shop. That wasn’t me who complained and got you canned.”

  “But Laura said—”

  “That manager chick? What a piece of work. I didn’t get you fired but … it was my fault, all the same.” Vigorous yapping sounded in the background. “I have a proposition for you. Could you come over now so we can discuss it? I can’t leave him.”

  Drop everything and attend to the king? Oh, sure! People who looked like that expected everyone else to do their bidding.

  Yet he’d figured out Laura. She was a piece of work, and it was nice to have consensus on this during a time when the world was against her.

  “I’m kind of busy.” Figuring out where I’m going to sleep tonight.

  “And I’m in a bind here,” he said imperiously as if his problem superseded all others. “I have to go out of town tomorrow for a couple of days and I need someone to stay with him. It’s either that or I’ll have to kennel him and I don’t think he’s ready for that.”

  Ask and the universe shall provide. She tried to sound as casual as a limp noodle. “For how long?”

  “Two days. More like three. I’ll be back on Wednesday. But I need someone to stay with him for the next two nights.”

  “At your place?”

  “Yes, at my place,” he said impatiently. Jeez, she was just confirming. “It’s an emergency. I asked Mia but she says her dog doesn’t play well with others. She could drop in but not stay overnight and I don’t think he’s ready to be alone yet. I know it’s an imposition but I owe you.”

  Back to that. “I thought you didn’t get me fired, so how is it your fault?”

  “It’s hard to explain. It would be easier if you came over and discussed the details. He already likes you.”

  She already liked him. The dog, that is.

  If she had to place her priorities in order right now it would be a place to stay anywhere but the backseat of her Ford Focus followed by a dog in need of her special skillset. This grouchy grump of a grinch would come in at a very, very distant third.

  “Okay, I’ll stop by and see if Bucky and I are a good fit. Where do you live?”

  Kennedy exited the elevator of one of those luxury high-rises in downtown Riverbrook and walked down the hall just as a door opened. Out rushed a bundle of energy on four legs, barking his head off.

  She fell to her knees and reached for him, but he cowered, as shaky as a leaf in the wind.

  “It’s okay, I’m a friend. We’ve already met.”

  She looked up. Hot Jerk stood at the entrance to his apartment wearing a black tee stretched tight enough to give pec-impressions and nipples at the ready, which had the domino effect of placing her nipples at the ready.

  That’s what he wore for visitors? Positively indecent
.

  The dog turned tail and ran back to his daddy.

  “He’s a little jumpy, huh?” she said, knowing the feeling.

  “The vet says he has ringworm and is malnourished.”

  “What about his eye?”

  Hot Jerk looked even hotter in his fury. “That happened a while back. Maybe a year, according to the vet. Some of the gashes are more recent.”

  Consistent abuse. Then someone got sick of using him as a punching bag and either threw him in the lake or abandoned him in such a way that he ended up there. Though somehow she doubted this little guy took that jump all by himself.

  She walked toward them both, careful about making any sudden movements. Odd, but that strategy seemed appropriate for both of them.

  “You going to invite me in?”

  He stood back, gesturing with a hand toward the inside. She had run a quickie background check by calling Mia immediately after she got off the phone with HJ. When Kennedy mentioned she was coming over to Reid’s to discuss a job offer, Mia had chuckled and murmured, “This should be good.”

  The bottom line was that she didn’t feel in any immediate danger from this guy.

  Not physical anyway.

  She had also done her Internet due diligence, which was enough to give her the facts, Ma’am. Just the facts.

  Reid Durand was twenty-seven, Canadian, and considered a bit of a bad boy in the NHL. So those exact words weren’t used, but she could infer with the best of them. Pundits mentioned his tendency to trash-talk both his teammates and his opponents, and his atypical, unCanadian rudeness during press conferences. He had once made a (male) reporter break down in tears. Even the teammates at his old club were less than flattering about his personality. Difficult, ornery, and cantankerous were the nicer things said about him.

  The coffee shop behavior was on brand, apparently.

  “Let me take your coat.” Before she could demur, he had placed his hands on her shoulders from behind and gently tugged. The proximity of him was heady, just as before when he was putting her coat on near the lake. Off, on, apparently it didn’t matter.

  She only had this one heavy coat, a seven-dollar find at Goodwill. Kennedy’s usual clothes were hot weather and yoga appropriate, meaning not appropriate for a Chicago winter at all. He hung the coat up in a closet, which was about the nicest thing that had ever happened to it.