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.”