“Aw! And you’re bringing Bucky.” Bucky was currently cowering at the side of the sofa because he was scared of the Netflix ta-dum sound, though it had reverberated through the apartment thirty minutes ago. What a dummy.
Kennedy leaned down and petted him, revealing a whisper of lace of her underwear.
Jesus. Maybe anywhere but here would be a good place to be.
“You should bring the raspberry brownies. I made two batches and I’m going to bring the other one to Edie.”
Another thing that bugged him—the constant baking.
“The guys won’t thank you.”
“I don’t need thanks.” She studied him closely. “So tell me your strategy.”
“My strategy?”
“You don’t seem to be too friendly with your teammates.”
“I’m new.”
“But you’re not making an effort either. Mia says you’re a dick, but a dick with purpose. So what’s the strategy?”
What the hell was a dick with purpose? “It’s easier to keep my distance.”
“Really? In a team sport?”
“I’m in competition with most of the NHL, even the people on my own team. Take Foreman. He and I are both on the right-wing, so for each game, Coach has to choose one of us to play the first line or demote us to the next line. He’s been switching us off, but every minute I’m out there I have to prove that he made the right call. That his faith in me is justified. Only now I might be playing a different position.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Coach thinks I might work better as a center. On the same line as Foreman and Petrov. Mia’s brother.”
“Ooh, the hot Russian. I’ve seen photos of him. All those tattoos. So playing together … you might complement them in some way. Be stronger together than apart.” Her grin was what was known as the shit-eating variety. She probably thought that was an epically profound thing to say.
“We’re not required to all get along, kumbaya and all that hippie shit.”
“Ha, I bet someone brings out a guitar tonight!”
Mon Dieu, he hoped not. “It’s just playing cards or video games. Not a big deal.”
She grinned and leaned in, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “I’ve got to get ready for work myself. Have fun and don’t forget the brownies!”
He didn’t watch her perfect sweetheart-shaped ass leave the room. He wasn’t that much of a sadist.
“Captain Canuck!”
Theo Kershaw stood at the open door to Foreman’s apartment, his gleaming eyes on the tray of brownies. Reid had also brought a six-pack. He might not drink during the season but it would be churlish not to bring beer to a gathering.
Kershaw took the brownies. “Nice. Good to see you—hey, and the team mascot, too!” He reached down and rubbed Bucky’s head. “I was worried you were going to keep up this asshole act all season.”
“Asshole act?”
The defenseman grinned. “No one is that bad-tempered all the time. Unless you’re not getting laid. I went through a spell of that after I knocked up my girl and we were dancing around the sex thing and I was pretty hacked off for about six weeks until she realized she couldn’t resist me. Pregnant women are exceptionally horny, did you know that?”
He did now.
Kershaw talked a lot in the locker room, on the plane out, at the team lunches and dinners, on the plane back, on the bench, just … a lot. So Reid wasn’t really surprised to be confronted with the Michigan Motormouth in rare form on a night in with the boys.
“So is that the case then?” Kershaw threw out over his shoulder as he walked ahead. “You’re not getting laid?”
“It’s not responsible for my mood, but yeah, I don’t fuck anyone during the season.”
The entire room went quiet.
He had uttered that gem right as he walked into Foreman’s living room, filling a convenient lull in the conversation.
“Durand,” Foreman said from a position in an armchair near the fireplace. “Nice entrance.”
Bond, Jorgenson, Hunt, Burnett, and Kaminski made up the rest of the party. Bucky scurried into the center of the room.
“He’s kind of shy,” Reid said about his dog, who proceeded to make a liar of him as he happily sniffed each of the players’ legs in turn. “Usually.”
“You serious?” Theo asked, still hung up on Reid’s announcement. “You don’t have sex during the season? At all?”
“I find it helps me to focus more.” If he had a penny for every time he said that …
“On your balls of blue,” Jorgenson said, which made everyone laugh.
Foreman stood and moved toward them, taking the beer from Reid’s hands. “This your contribution?”
“Sure, for the crew. I’d like some water.”
“You don’t drink either?” Kershaw was acting like an alien had crash-landed in the middle of Foreman’s living room.
Foreman placed a hand on Reid’s shoulder and gave a gentle push. “Come on into the kitchen.”
With a quick glance to check that Bucky was okay, Reid followed Foreman, who grabbed a glass, filled it from a Brita pitcher in the fridge, and handed it off.
“How pissed are you that you’re here?”
“I’m not pissed. I needed to get out of the house anyway.”
Cue the Masshole smirk. “How’s the roommate situation?”
“Fine. It’s—” Kumbay-fucking-nope. “It’s good to have someone there for Bucky.”
“But for you, maybe not. With your no-sex-during-the-season rule.”
“It’s not that big of a deal.”
Foreman put Reid’s six-pack into the fridge and withdrew a bottle of a different beer. “Seems sort of masochistic. Cute girl running around your apartment.”
“Can only make me stronger.” Reid found himself smiling for the first time since this whole business had started. He was being ludicrous, acting as if the challenge of Kennedy in his living space was welcome. Would only benefit his regimen. Who was he kidding? Living with Kennedy was torture and he had only himself to blame.
“Heard your brother’s on IR, so the clash of the century will be postponed until next time.”
“Yeah, my father canceled his trip.” Shit, he hadn’t meant to say that. That was exactly the kind of thing Foreman would use.
“Oh yeah?”
“He likes to see us push each other.” Like a Roman emperor viewing the gladiators. It wasn’t as much fun with only one of them against strangers. “He doesn’t travel much anymore. It has to be worth his while.”
Foreman sipped from his beer, remained silent. But he looked like he wanted to weigh in so Reid elected to do something he would normally not do: ask a question.
“Have you met Henri?”
“He did a brief coaching stint at the Royals.” The Royals was based in Montreal, Foreman’s previous outfit before he joined the Rebels. “Not a great one for positive encouragement, to be honest.”
“He likes things a certain way so coaching within the regulations of the league was never going to work for him.”