“That’s a good idea. Between the pet store purchases and the vet visit, I’ve already dropped six hundred bucks on this guy. What’s another fifty?”
What, indeed? She kept her smile hidden. Reid’s affection for the dog was so stinkin’ cute.
“If I was here for a few days, where would I sleep?” Not in the master bedroom. Unlike Bucky, she wouldn’t want to get accustomed to the smell of Hot Jerk on his sheets.
“There’s a guest room here.” He walked further down the corridor and opened the door, gesturing with a hand inside.
She stayed where she was so as not to betray her excitement. A bed was a luxury, especially when you didn’t have ready access to one.
“What do you say?” He closed the gap, looming over her. “Will you help me, Kennedy?”
Saying her name should not have affected her, yet her heart sped up. That should have been a warning right there.
“How much does it pay?”
“Name your price.”
“Oh, you’ve gone and done it now.”
“You’re my only option. Either that or the shelter. I can’t leave him alone so you have all the power.” He moved past her, close enough to get a scent of him in her nostrils—something clean and woodsy—then went into the bedroom and sat on the bed. Bucky nudged his legs and Reid lifted him into his lap, murmuring soothing dog-babble. The dog shivered before relaxing in his arms.
Bucky wouldn’t do well at a shelter. He needed full-time care and these two had already bonded.
Kennedy had all the power, and for someone who had lately felt powerless, that was about as good a reason as any to say yes.
“Let’s talk about my fee.”
8
Reid might have made a mistake.
He lived a life constricted by rules. What to eat. How much to practice. When to sleep. His entire life was organized this way so he could be the best at what he did. Henri Durand expected it, so Reid expected it of himself.
When he was five, his stepfather took him onto the ice for the first time. Bastian was there as well, only three years old, and Reid remembered a hollow ache of disappointment that it wasn’t just him and Henri. That his baby of a brother was being introduced to the family business at the same time as Reid. Henri wanted to train them together. He wanted to train them against each other, hoping to instill a competitive spirit. They wouldn’t just compete on the ice, they would compete in all areas.
All with the goal of winning Henri Durand’s approval. To know Henri was to understand that there wasn’t enough of that precious commodity for both his sons.
For five years, they trained as a duo, though at two years older, Reid was better for a while. Stronger. Back then he didn’t enjoy hockey all that much, merely saw it as a tool to win his stepfather’s love and respect.
By the time Reid was ten, Bastian was starting to catch up and fulfill the promise of the Durand genes. It was the great experiment, nature versus nurture. Reid had the training, the need to prove himself, and maybe that was why Henri pushed him so hard. He would never be able to rely on natural talent like Bastian. Every moment on the ice would require focus and hard work. No skating by for Reid.
Henri would hate the idea of Reid owning a dog. When they were kids, Bastian had one, and Reid wasn’t allowed to walk him because Bast (a) deserved the companion more and (b) had to exhibit responsibility in owning it. Reid could easily imagine Henri’s reaction now, that fleshy mouth curved in a sneer, his barrel chest heaving in disgust.
How the hell can you look after that thing? Your focus will be divided. Remember you can’t fall back on a talent you don’t have.
Reid didn’t think he’d made a mistake because he now owned a dog. It was the other thing: her. He was going to allow a stranger stay in his apartment. Introduce an element of randomness to his carefully-calibrated world.
He rarely made a decision so quickly and now was torn between exhilaration at jumping in, feet first—literally!—and unease that he was moving too fast. Last night, the moment Kennedy left with instructions to return the next day at 10 a.m. precisely—it was now eleven minutes past—Reid had called Mia. The conversation went something like this:
“I need a reference.”
“Reid, is that you?”
“Oui. I’ve just hired the coffee shop girl to look after my dog. Can you verify she’s not some sort of grifter?”
Mia chuckled. “I can verify that I trust her with Gordie Howe when I’m out of town.”
Mia seemed like the kind of person who wouldn’t take guardianship of her dog lightly. She called the dog Gordie Howe, after the great player. Perhaps Reid should have done that—named his new friend after a legend.
Yet he balked at bringing hockey into it at all. He wanted this to be separate. He had very little in his life that existed apart from his career.
“She’s staying here. In my apartment.”
“Who? The dog?”
“Kennedy.” Just saying her name made him warm.
“Oh, I see. I suppose you could have her pick him up and bring him to her place?”
Kennedy had already said she couldn’t do that. “It’s better the dog stays here with the familiar. He needs special care. I just wonder if it’s a good idea to have a stranger in my apartment.”
It was a bit late to be making these kinds of enquiries. He just needed someone to tell him he wasn’t making a terrible decision.
“I can see that’s kind of tricky. I could visit if you want, see how they’re getting on.” She whispered away from the phone. The next voice he heard was … merde. Foreman’s.
“Durand, what’s the problem?”
“I see you’ve figured things out.”
“You could say that. What’s going on? You want Mia to check in at your place?”
“I didn’t say that—she offered.” The idiot growled and while normally Reid found it amusing to needle Mr. Nice Guy, he didn’t have time for games. “I’m not interested in your woman, Foreman. This is purely for informational purposes.”
“Right, the puppy. How’s he doing?”
“Fine.” He recalled their last conversation. “You said you share custody of your dog. How does that work?”
“My dog’s in Boston with my ex. I see him every couple of months. She sends pics, videos. We, uh, Facetime.”
“You FaceTime with your dog?” In the background, he could hear Mia saying something that sounded like “sexy,” followed by a muffled sound. Kissing. Serenity fucking now.
Foreman came back on. “He needs to know I’m still his guy, so the phone and video contact is important. You’re keeping the dog?”
“I am. But I had to hire someone to look after him while I’m away and I’m trying to determine the best way forward.” Neither did I call to talk to you, Masshole. “I just wanted to find out if the dog sitter can be trusted. I’ve learned that so we’re done here.”
“Okay, see you at the bus—”
Reid had already clicked off.
That was last night, and now Reid was second-guessing … everything. He looked around his place, a bland bachelor pad that he had yet to personalize. This was his fourth city in five years, so he didn’t see the point in expending the effort. He wondered if his space would feel different when he returned, if she would somehow imprint her personality on it.