“We get along fine. We were supposed to play each other this week but he’s injured.” Though not enough that he couldn’t just show up out of the blue. “Instead, he’s here to mess with me. Typical mind games.”
“Ah, got it. Well, don’t worry, Bucky and I are on your side, roomie.”
Roomie. Every time she said it, he felt warm. Unworthy.
He followed her out, his eyes inevitably drawn to her perky ass covered in yoga pants. On days like this he wouldn’t mind if she wore some of her grandmother’s tat, anything that might cover up those sweet cheeks he wanted to grip and hold and …
“There he is! Kennedy invited me for breakfast.” Bastian grinned.
“So kind of Kennedy,” Reid said, and she rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue.
“I’d make pancakes but Reid won’t eat the carbs.”
“Who cares about Reid? Bring ’em on!” Bast stood and stretched. “I can always do a little extra time on the treadmill later.”
“Thought you were injured,” Reid said archly.
Bast turned glum, and Reid regretted his poke. “Yeah, I am. Bad enough not to play but I can still get my exercise.” He winked at Kennedy, who giggled. Jesus.
“Pancakes it is!” She moved toward the fridge. “Reid can eat the fruit you brought. Not even any melon in that fruit salad—well done, Durand the younger! Sit at the kitchen counter and talk to me while I cook. I get lonely in the kitchen.”
“Can I help?” Bastian offered.
“No need. Make yourself a coffee in the Keurig and then prepare to be wowed by my chocolate chip beauties.”
Reid pushed his brother toward one of the island stools. “I’ll make your coffee. There’s not enough room in the kitchen.”
It was a lie but he didn’t want Bastian anywhere near Kennedy. While she started whipping up an eggy batter, he made the coffee. No need to ask his brother what he liked. He would get what was given to him.
“So I want to hear all about growing up in the wilds of Quebec.” Kennedy smiled at Bastian. “Was it a farm?”
“Why would you think it’s a farm? What has Reid been telling you?”
“Not much. I’ve been trying to guess but he said you guys had a rink so I assumed it was a farm. Or some place with tons of space.”
“Not a farm,” Bastian said. “But it was in a wooded area just outside of Grenville. Dad and a couple of his buddies chopped down trees and cleared a space to build a rink. It was so cool. I was three and Reid was five when we started.” Bast shook his head, a fond smile touching his lips. He always got this way when their childhood came up. Nostalgic. Forgetful. “He was better than me for a while. Then I caught up but he must have improved over the summer. Getting plenty of shift time these last couple of games, bro!”
“You are?” Kennedy nudged him. “You never said that.”
“Do you even know what that means?”
She quirked those luscious lips he’d explored with abandon yesterday. “It sounds like somebody likes you enough to let you play this sport you love for the big bucks. Am I right?”
“A-plus,” Bast said. “So, Kennedy, tell us all about you. You’re a world traveler, I hear.”
“I’ve traveled. I will travel again.”
“Favorite place?”
She gave it a moment’s thought. “Halong Bay, Vietnam. Or Cinque Terre, Italy. Or maybe Santorini, Greece. Ask me again next week and I might change my mind.”
“Afoot and lighthearted, take to the open road,” Reid murmured.
“Healthy, free, the world before you,” Kennedy finished, looking more than a little surprised. “That’s one of my favorite poems.”
Reid’s as well. Walt Whitman had always spoken to him, especially those lines, even though he’d never gone anywhere or done much of anything. He finished the verse in his head. The long brown path before you, leading wherever you choose.
For a moment, he imagined she was doing the same before she shifted her gaze to take in Bast. “I’m guessing you guys travel a lot, too. In the off-season.”
“Saint Reid here heads back to Canada to coach a youth group in the summers,” his brother said. “I take some time for myself at a place I have on Vancouver Island. But we’re going to be taking a big trip soon. Heading to Beijing in February for Team Canada.”
“The Olympics? Both of you? Wow!” She shot a look a chiding look at Reid. Back to their dynamic of him, the closed-off curmudgeon and her, the free-spirited wanderer. He was actually an alternate for Team Canada, so it wasn’t as big a deal as she thought.
“Giving back to the kids. Skating for your country. Well, I hope you get a chance to let off some steam, see the sights. Makes me wonder …”
“Wonder what?” Reid asked.
“After the season is over and you’re a free agent, so to speak …”
His heart thundered in his chest. Was she suggesting they might take a trip together after the season? This talk of travel and favorite places had him yearning for something … more. It would be amazing to see new lands with Kennedy.
She studied him through the veil of her lashes. “So how many people do you bang?”
He almost spit out his coffee. After he’d swallowed, he was still speechless.
She patted his arm. “If you’re not partaking during the season, I’d imagine that’s the first thing you’d do. I’m just curious if it’s a one-week fling with one person or do you spread the Reid around.”
Reid could feel his brother’s hot stare as he put two and two together and came up with bang-a-thon.
“Not partaking. What the fuck am I hearing?”
“Oh, dear,” Kennedy covered her mouth. “Was that a secret?”
Bast was shaking his head, his dumb mouth agape. “Are you kidding? You don’t fuck anyone … all season?”
“It helps me focus.”
Except since Kennedy had come to stay, focus was a thing of the past.
Kennedy squeezed his bicep. “I’m sorry. I thought it was common knowledge, like your diet or your exercise regimen. Reid Durand, Hockey Monk!”
Bast looked shocked. It was nice that Reid still had the capacity to surprise him.
“So bro, answer the question.”
“What question?”
Bast exchanged a look with Kennedy. “How many people do you bang in the post-season?”
“A couple. I don’t want anyone to think it’s …”
“Special,” Kennedy finished.
He nodded. “It’s biological. A release. But sometimes the first time is over quickly …”
“How disappointing …” Kennedy pointed at him. “For the first person who encounters a post-season Reid Durand on the prowl!”
“Oh, shut up,” he said, unable to stop the laugh building in his throat. This woman was trouble. “No one is shortchanged. It’s just not always as satisfying as I hope. After a few months without sex, you tend to build things up and then that first time might be a letdown. So I usually try again.”
“And again?” Bast said, then added a bow-chicka-chick-bow.