by Kate Meader
He had. So why was she still trying to argue her case? Likely trying to persuade herself this was a good idea. She had little choice. She just needed some breathing room while she waited for her work visa and ensured Edie was in a good place.
“We should talk about rules,” Reid said. “And money. Also, I’ll need to talk to my accountant about taxes.”
Taxes? She was trying to make a buck, not hand it off to Uncle Sam.
“You want to get the government involved?”
He looked at her sharply. Of course he would want the government involved. This guy was not a rule breaker.
“I prefer to keep it all above board.” His pretty mouth set in a grimace.
“Sure. Whatever works.” She couldn’t tell him to break the law. As it was, he was doing her a huge favor. “What rules did you have in mind?”
“I would prefer if you didn’t invite people over.”
“You mean lov-ahs?”
He scowled. “I mean anyone. During the season I need to focus. I can’t do that if there are people here.”
Pesky kids playing loud music.
She had no intention of inviting people over yet she felt an unbearable urge to poke at him. “Will you be able to focus while I’m here?”
“You just said you’d be out a lot or spending the time in your room. That would probably be best.”
A giggle bubbled from somewhere deep, flirted with her lungs, and threatened to climb her throat. By the grace of the housing gods, who clearly recognized a mortal woman in need of a roof over her head, she managed to keep it at bay.
“Got it. And don’t worry about food. I’ll buy my own and I won’t steal yours.”
He shook his head. “I don’t mind about that. You can order anything you want and charge it to my account. I usually get stuff delivered so we can share a cart in the app. Room and board included in your pay.”
That was generous. She wouldn’t abuse it, though. “I can do some cleaning. Though I imagine you have someone come in.” People with money usually had a maid.
“No need to do anything like that. I do my own cleaning. Helps me concentrate.” Ha, she had totally called that. He screwed up his brow, like he was concentrating right now.
Maybe on vacuuming.
What was she getting herself into? She’d lived with roommates before and had a high tolerance for crazy. Backpacking solo though Europe and Asia led to fun interactions with new people, several of whom often had questionable habits. She could fill a Reddit board with her tales of whackery in the room- and hostel-mate department.
So Reid was uptight about his living space. She could work with that. This was a pretty sweet gig for someone who rarely let the hardwood under her feet accumulate dust. Six weeks and she’d be gone.
She moved in closer to the fridge. It was covered with several calendars, one that was obviously for games. “What’s this one?”
“My workout schedule.”
“And this?” She pointed at a different color-coded one.
“Meals. I have certain dietary requirements.”
“This rule about having people over. Does that apply to you?” It was his home and she was a guest, but she did wonder.
“I won’t have anyone over.”
“You aren’t dating anyone?”
“I don’t date. And I don’t fu—uh, screw anyone during the season.”
She could feel her eyes go around at his unvarnished statement. When he said he needed to focus, he really meant focusing on … not having sex.
Wow. “At all? Not even on your away trips?”
“No.”
“So you’re like the Hockey Terminator or something. Always the mission.” Maybe he went nuts once the season was over. An image of him losing his shit, screwing anything not nailed down popped into her head and set her brain on fire.
“You look like you’re thinking,” he said, his gaze dipping to her mouth. Or perhaps she imagined that because she was looking at his mouth.
Get your eyes in order, girl. All this mouth watching could only spell trouble.
“I’m a human, I’m always thinking. So let me get this straight. From October to June, you keep it in your pants? Every season?”
“It’s only to June if we make the playoffs. If that happens, hockey’s the only thing on my mind. That and my scratchy playoff beard.”
Playoff beard? She would be doing some light Internet research tonight for sure.
“So have you ever lived with a roommate before?”
“Sure, in college. And I room with players at the hotels during away games.”
“But a female roommate?”
His gaze narrowed. “Worried you’re going to be so attractive to me I might break my rules?”
“Oh, I’d never presume. I just want to be sure I don’t make things awkward while I run around braless.”
He did that nostril thing again, a kind of horsey flare.
Heathcliff, it’s me, your Kathy, I’ve come home …
“Think I can cope. Besides, you’re not just a roommate, you’re an employee. I wouldn’t cross that line.”
Was that disappointment she felt? Surely not. Reid was exceptionally handsome. Beautiful, even. But no way would she risk the roof over her head for a roll in the hay.
Even if making this man slip the reins of his tightly-leashed control was very, very tempting.
12
Reid walked by the guest room—now Kennedy’s room—and stopped to peer inside.
A single suitcase sat near the window. That’s what she lived out of.
When she said she was heading back to Thailand at the end of the year, Reid hadn’t paid that much attention. People were always going to more interesting places than him. He was just a Canadian puck chaser, after all, who had never ventured outside North America.
But the solitary suitcase put her wandering lifestyle into sharp relief. It also made him wonder. She had mentioned lodging difficulties, and at the beach when they saved Bucky, this suitcase had been in the trunk of her car.
Bucky walked in, sniffed at the case, and did a couple of circuits of the room.
“She’ll be here soon.” Usually he’d be napping. Instead he’d been answering dumb calls from reporters all morning, asking for interviews because of that video. No matter that he kept referring them to the Rebels press office, somehow one of them got his number and thought they could end-run the team org.
He still couldn’t believe he’d said yes to Kennedy’s request to move in. Happy to have a solution for his dog care problem fall into his lap like a gift from the gods, he had barely questioned it.
Until she had hugged him. His body had gone stiff on the outside, while on the inside … he burned. This might not have been one of his best ideas, but he had the distinct impression she had nowhere to go. Who kept their suitcase in the trunk of their car?
The potted plant was still on the nightstand, the one he’d picked up at the garden center the night before she stayed the first time. Just to make it a bit more welcoming, that’s all. Beside it was a small frame containing a watercolor of a flower, a tulip or maybe even the same flower in the pot. Spooky. The initials LC were tucked into the corner. Carefully, he returned it to the same spot.
Yesterday, she had been busy with her various jobs. Apparently she also did personal assistant errands for a few of the dog owners, volunteered at an animal shelter, and worked on solving world peace in her spare time. All right, not that last one, but it wouldn’t have surprised him. So she loved dogs enough to want to spend her free time with them. Reid understood hard work but he had a goal: a multi-year contract with the right team.
Why was Kennedy filling every single moment?
He had gone to the gym last night and when he returned, her door was closed. This morning, she left before he woke up at six, and now he was hovering. Absorbing and learning.
His phone rang with a call from Henri. Reid had been dreading this and was only surprised it hadn’t come
sooner.
“Hi, Dad.”
“The lake? You fished a damn mutt out of the lake?”
Reid exhaled a careful breath. “Was I supposed to let him drown?”
“Christ, what if you’d been injured? Those hands and feet are worth money, Reid. And you’re making foolish rescues, risking an injury that could take you off the ice.”
“It was a calculated risk.”
“And there was someone else there! You should have just let them do it.”
Well, he didn’t, and now that someone was living with him. Stupid, Reid.
“I’m fine.”
His father grumbled some more before finally muttering, “So, we won’t be visiting Chicago next week.”
Reid’s heart leaped into his throat. “Why not?”
“Your brother has a groin strain and will be out for the game. You’ll play each other again in December, so we’ll do it then.”
Because coming down to see Reid play wasn’t enough of a reason. He felt like a kid again, desperate for any slops of affection Henri would throw at him. Even knowing what a dick his stepfather was, he still craved his approval. The man was a legend in the game and to have him care about your career was a great honor, even when it came with a crushing weight of expectation.
He collected his wits and put his shields in place. “Whatever works.”
“Call your brother. He’s pretty down about being on IR.”
Like Reid could make him better. “Will do.”
“And Reid? No more dumb dives in the lake, okay?”
“No plans to.” He looked down at Bucky who had somehow managed to remain deathly quiet during that call, as if he sensed there’d be trouble if he made himself known. He had a survivor’s instinct, just like Kennedy.
Henri hung up and Reid stepped out of Kennedy’s room. “Come on, boy. Time to take a nap.”
“Dylan, don’t lick that!” Kennedy pulled the Boston terrier away from what looked like soup—hopefully—and turned the corner onto State Street in Riverbrook. The smoothie shop was on the corner so she planned to stop there and juice up.
One of her other charges, Sylvester, strained at the leash as he spotted an oncoming dog. Meanwhile, Bucky hid behind her legs, as he had done for the last five days when confronted with new animals out on their daily walks. Still a scaredy cat.
Kennedy recognized the dog in their path, accompanied by a couple holding hands.
“Hey, Mia.”
Mia beamed as she approached, clearly a woman in love. Kennedy had never met her guy, but she’d seen pictures of Cal Foreman, one of the Rebels players. Even better in the flesh. God, they made these hockey players big.
“Kennedy!” Mia hugged her, which took Kennedy by surprise. “So great to see you. How are things with Reid?”
Straight to the point, then. “Fine, fine! This is Bucky, Reid’s dog.”
Cal squatted and petted Bucky. “Hey, buddy, you’re looking a lot better since the last time I saw you.” He didn’t leave Sylvester or Dylan out of the good-boy pat downs either, which said a lot. He stood, a big smile on his face. “Amazing what a week of TLC will do. Hey, I’m Cal, seeing as Mia has lost her manners.”
She nudged him. “I have not! I was waiting for an opening in the man-beast love fest.”
Cal wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his side. “That’s okay. I know your mind turned to mush when you saw me getting friendly with this little guy.” He kissed her and she kissed him and Kennedy had to cough significantly to remind them she was here.
“You guys are pret-ty cute, I have to say.”
“We were going for sexy,” Cal said with a—yep, sexy—grin. “So you’re the poor woman who had to stay over at Durand’s?”
“I don’t know about poor.” So she was literally poor but Cal’s comment sounded like a dig at Reid. “As living arrangements go, it’s a pretty sweet setup. Neither of us is there all that much so we hardly see each other.” She looked down at Bucky who was smelling Gordie Howe’s butt. Why did dogs do that?
Mia narrowed her eyes. “Hold up. You’ve moved in with Reid? Permanently?”
“He needed someone on site and it made more sense to just move in for a few weeks while we get Bucky settled. It’s really just to make things easier.” Now she was wondering if this setup with Reid was supposed to be a secret. He hadn’t told her to keep it to herself.
“Sure,” Mia said, clearly not convinced. She slid a glance at Cal who returned a speaking glance of his own. All this couple conversation without a word. Kenendy had never enjoyed that kind of simpatico with anyone, probably because she was usually out the door faster than you can say “thanks for the orgasm, buddy!”
“Reid’s roomie,” Mia said. “That must be fun.”
So Reid wasn’t exactly a barrel of laughs, but she would never say so. It felt disloyal to even think it. Besides it was different than fun: she hadn’t come up with a label yet.
“I do have him to thank for helping me see what a dumbass I was being.” Cal smiled at Mia. “About us.”
Mia’s mouth dropped open. “Really? Was that before or after you beat him up during practice?”
Kennedy cut in. “You’re the one who hit him? Whatever for?”
“He was being a jerk. Nothing new, but he poked a spot, knowing exactly what he was doing, and I lost it.” He turned to Mia. “It was the morning after the charity auction, after we had that fight, gorgeous girl. Don’t worry, it’s all good, I apologized. And it’s not as if he can’t handle it. Injuries are par for the course.”
“But not ones that are deliberately inflicted by their teammates!” Mia threw an exasperated glance at Kennedy, then back at Cal. “You should invite him out to make up for it.”
Cal’s face twisted like Munch’s The Scream. “Why the hell would I do that? I have to room with him on away games and believe me, he’s not interested in making friends. I’ve already tried the Foreman charm, which is bona fide irresistible. Except to that guy.”
What a strange dynamic. Kennedy would have thought it was a complete sausage fest and all the teammates would be great buddies to bond better for performance enhancement. “So you don’t get along with Reid?”
“No one gets along with Reid,” Cal said. “But he likes it that way. Thinks if he’s a dick to everyone it makes him the ultimate tough guy.”
“Daddy issues,” Mia said cryptically.
“Really?”
Mia glanced at Cal, then back at Kennedy. “His father is a hockey legend, known for being a hard-ass both on and off the ice. Can’t have been easy.”
“Yeah, Henri Durand coached for a stint at the Montreal Royals while I was there a while back,” Cal said. “Guy was an asshole but Reid’s his stepson. Not genetic. Developed that sparkling personality all by himself.” He frowned at Mia and Kennedy, who were both staring him down. “Hey, don’t feel sorry for him. The guy knows exactly what he’s doing. No one plays mind games better than Durand.”
“You need to be a better teammate, Cal.” Mia smiled conspiratorially at Kennedy. “We’ll figure something out.”
Cal’s brow lined like a corduroy swatch. “That cannot be good.”
13
Reid heard the key in the lock and so did Bucky. He ran to the door and sat on his haunches, waiting. Bucky, that is. Though Reid was tempted. Seriously tempted.
He shouldn’t be looking forward to a stranger invading his house, shocking his routine, and upsetting his equilibrium. Since Bucky had come into his life, Reid found himself questioning his lone-wolf strategy. Though he wasn’t planning on being too friendly, he saw no reason why he couldn’t enjoy the company of his new roommate.
Kennedy breezed in, dropped her yoga mat, and fell to her knees.
“Bucky, how are ya, my friend?”
Happier for seeing you, Bucky said with a face lick.
For the last week they’d fallen into a routine. On non-game days Reid was at practice each day, came home for a nap a
nd food in the afternoon, then went back to the gym. By the time he got home, Kennedy was in her room with her door closed, but had left Post-its about Bucky’s care. What he ate, when he took his meds, how long they walked around the park. This was the first time their paths had crossed significantly enough to have a conversation.
She looked up and smiled. Shot through the heart, as Bon Jovi would say.
“Good practice, roomie?” A smirk accented the label.
“Yep, fine.”
She slipped off her bulky coat and hung it in the closet. Beneath she wore tight yoga pants and a long-sleeved tee that skimmed the top of her gorgeous ass. On the front of the tee was an image of Black Widow and the slogan It Should Have Been Clint.
So they were both Avengers fans. Lots of people were, but still, it was a nice touchpoint. He managed to drag his eyes away as she headed to the kitchen.
“I was going to make lunch, then I’ll get out of your way.”
He followed her and leaned against the counter. “Everything okay for the last few days? Settling in all right?”
“Peachy.” She pulled out the bread and cheese, and threw the sandwich together quickly.
“That doesn’t look very filling.”
“Oh, it’s fine.”
He picked up the sandwich. “This isn’t fine. That’s not real cheese.”
“Sure it is. And please stop manhandling my sandwich.”
“I insist you share my food.”
Her lips turned up at the corners. “Maybe I don’t want to. It looks weird.”
“Gouda is weird?”
“No, the green juice and the grain stuff.”
“You don’t have to eat that, but you’re welcome to the turkey and gouda and wheat bread. And all this other stuff Bastian brought—I won’t eat it.”
“Bastian?”
“My brother. He dropped off some groceries.”
The prick knew Reid was careful about his diet, yet here he was stocking the cupboards with beer and Brie and fucking gelato. Kennedy could have it all. She was clearly short of funds, living paycheck to paycheck. Reid was paid a lot of money to play hockey, and while he was good at it, he often wondered if he was worth those millions. Perhaps the person who looked after animals and helped old people get fit should be respected more.