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“And I’m in a bind here,” he said imperiously as if his problem superseded all others.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.
She was kind of regretting wearing this sweater right now, one of Edie’s gems, borrowed along with the rest of her winter wardrobe. It had cats embroidered on it with green jewels for eyes. Yesterday she’d thought it ironic. Today, not so much.