Reid had that same expression he wore the first day she’d come by for her “interview,” when she accused him of not being good enough to be a dog daddy. He had looked wounded, just like now.
“I’m keeping him.” The way he said it sent a shiver corkscrewing down her spine—or maybe it was the dampness after being splashed by sudsy water.
She had slipped off her cardigan so it wouldn’t get wet, which meant the cami and bra combo was winning the day. Reid was staring at her, his eyes roving over her damp breasts. He didn’t even try to hide his interest and she found herself loving the way his greedy gaze drank in her body.
“I think he’s done. We don’t want him to prune.” She scooped Bucky up and out, and rubbed him dry with a towel. “We could give him a run with the hairdry—oh, and there he goes.” Bucky ran out of the room, probably anxious to get back to his bed or the sofa.
Maybe the sexual tension was too thick for him.
While she was drying Bucky, Reid had emerged from the water like a male Venus, dripping with semi-sudsy water. He stepped onto the mat and Lord help her, she would remember with embarrassment what she did next for as long as she lived.
With the towel in her hands she swiped it over his chest, a proxy for the hands she didn’t dare use. She wanted more of those muscles, that heat, this man. Touching him properly—towel-free—would only happen at his invitation. She’d be RSVP’ing the hell out of that if she got it.
A dip of her gaze to the space between them told her all she needed to know. That erection was … wow.
“Might be best if I handle that myself.” He took the towel from her, as if this was a normal interaction. None of this was normal! “I’m going to take a shower.”
Kennedy dismissed.
Backing up, she kept her eyes on his face because to look anywhere else would turn her into a crazy, sex-starved nympho. Only his eyes were burning suns of Reid-level intensity that told her exactly what would be happening as soon as the shower spray hit those pectorals.
She didn’t even bother with headphones back in her room. When Reid Durand came, he probably made a sound no louder than a church mouse.
22
Downtown Riverbrook was dressed and ready for the holidays now that Thanksgiving was a memory and Christmas was just three weeks away. This had always been her mom’s favorite time of year, and Kennedy couldn’t help but remember Libby Clark’s infectious joy as she trimmed, cooked, and yuletided her way through the season. Without her—without them both—it was hard to imagine ever enjoying the holidays again. There was a reason she avoided visits to the US.
Tonight, though, Kennedy would give it a shot and try to enjoy it at a surface level. This bar was certainly festive with garlands draped over the mirrors, the staff crowned with Santa hats, and “Fairytale of New York” blasting from the speakers. Kennedy might have to buy some of those hats for her doggie clients. Bucky would look adorable in one!
Apparently the Empty Net was the regular hangout of Rebels and their fans. Why would a famous person go to a place with the expectation of being left alone by fans, unless you didn’t want that at all? Unless you wanted to be seen and fawned over.
Sports ball people, the strangest people of all.
Tonight was Rebels-free as far as Kennedy could tell, but some of those present were Rebels-adjacent. Mia and Sadie were dating a couple of them, Kennedy was rooming with one of them, and Tara was—Kennedy wasn’t sure what Tara’s deal was but she definitely harbored ambitions in the Rebels’ direction.
First, the woman was shocked to her “strong-as-shit core” that Kennedy had somehow managed to sneak her feet “under the Reid Durand king-sized bed.”
“But she had to jump into a freezing lake and save a dog to do it,” Mia pointed out, not unreasonably.
“She saw an opportunity and went for it.” On the back of a hilarious, faux-weepy “Way to go, Paula” rendition from An Officer and a Gentleman, Tara clinked her wine glass against Kennedy’s, still sitting on the table because she wasn’t officially acknowledging that as a valid toast. Also, twelve bucks for a glass of Pinot Grigio? She would be sticking to the one and nursing it to the bitter end.
“Believe me, I’m not looking for a shot at Reid. He’s wide open, so have at it.”
“But you’re living with him!”
“As roommates. Not even friends.” Though that felt like a lie given that he’d gone out of his way to get her car fixed and had held her when she needed it. And then there was the Great Hot Tub Incident. On that last one, she suspected Reid was getting revenge for spotting her baking in her underwear. Well, joke was on him!
“It’s a purely business arrangement. I look after the dog and go about my day. That’s it. If anything, I have more of a relationship with Bastian.”
Tara grasped her arm and dug her talons in deep. “His brother? How did you swing that?”
“He’s stopped by a couple of times and we’ve become friendly.”
Tara looked like she was about to pass out.
“Now you’ve done it,” Sadie said with a throaty laugh. Mia had introduced her as a fashion designer shacked up with Rebels player Gunnar Bond. The dress she wore, one of her own fabulous designs, certainly put Kennedy’s old-lady wardrobe to shame.
“I don’t get it,” Kennedy said. “Sure, they’re hot and fit and have great bodies—okay, I get it. But the personalities on some of them leave a lot of be desired. So moody. So grumpy.”
“That’s hot, too!” Tara wailed.
“Listen, I know most of these guys,” Mia said. “Hockey players, on the whole, are dicks. Sure, if you can find a good one, gold star.” Insert smug grin from the woman here. “But we’re talking about wading through deep oceans of dick to get there and not in a good way. Speaking of dick-wading, there’s Casey.” She waved at someone at the bar, who waved back and walked over.
The new arrival had long dark, curly hair, bright blue eyes, and an easy smile. Kennedy instantly took to her.
“If anyone has opinions on the players, it’s Casey Higgins,” Mia said with authority. “She sees them every day as they pass through the inner sanctum.”
“Uh-oh,” Casey said. “What have I walked in on?”
Mia turned to the table behind her and asked if she could borrow one of their chairs, then stood and placed it for Casey. “Sit and tell us all the Rebels gossip. I might have family and a boyfriend in the Rebels weeds but none of them will spill to me because of the vault. Casey, meet my pals Kennedy and Tara. And you know Sadie. Casey is Harper the boss lady’s assistant. She has all the dirt.”
My pals. That felt nicer than it should have.
Casey blinked. “Which I am sworn to keep close to my chest. I only popped in here for a bottle of wine because the liquor store on the corner is closed for inventory and Tina has the kind I like.” She held up a bottle of red with a picture of a fox on it.
“And now you’re going to sit with us and have a drink. Unless you have a hot man to go home to.”
Casey slumped in her seat. “No hot man, just this lovely bottle of wine, which is all I need. I’ll stay for one drink, but don’t make me say anything I shouldn’t.”