“So what’s going on?”
“Since I recycled the TV box, I noticed he likes to sit in the hearth or the laundry cupboard. I figured he probably just craves warm, cave-like spaces.”
Bucky lifted his head, aware they were talking about him.
“And you thought you’d like to try it, too?”
“Sometimes it’s nice to get away without packing a suitcase.”
“It sure is.” As she leaned back, Reid rearranged some pillows to support her head. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. How’s your morning gone?”
“Good. I walked Gunnar Bond’s dog, Cooper for the first time as well as a couple of my regulars. And Harper Chase asked me to stop by and talk about doing a yoga class for the WAGs. Like a brunch n’ stretch. We’re calling it Downward Dog and Daiquiris. We’re going to do it between Christmas and New Year.” Before she left for good. She rushed on, not wanting to dwell on it. “I checked in with Edie. Turns out she’s been busy.”
“Yeah?” His breath was warm against her temple.
She lifted her head. “I can’t believe you took her ice-skating without me!”
“She said you’ve been putting her off because you’re, in her words, ‘a coward.’ And it was just a quick circuit of the Rebels practice rink.”
“A Foreman-Durand sandwich is how she described it, then “the three-way of her dreams” in the next breath. Please tell me someone filmed it.”
He extracted his phone from his pocket and after a few seconds, played the video of Edie being squired around the Rebels rink in the safe hands of Cal and Reid. A crowd cheered off-camera and Kennedy’s heart squeezed at the happy memory Reid had created.
If it was happy, then why did she feel teary?
“Ma belle, what’s wrong? Are you mad at me for not clearing it with you first?”
“No. Maybe. Edie’s a grown woman and it’s probably better I’m not involved. This bucket list business freaks me out. That’s what people do when they think they’re going to go soon.” She rubbed her eyes and faced him. “You’ve probably figured out by now that I don’t have a lot of people.”
“It’s hard to make connections if you move around so much.”
“So I have only myself to blame?”
He admonished her with a look that said they were better than that. “That’s not what I meant. I know a little about it. This is the fourth city I’ve lived in for the last five years, but that’s largely down to me. I’m a dick.”
She burst out laughing. “But you’re a dick with talent. With a talented dick.”
He doffed an imaginary cap, which made her laugh again. God, she loved how droll he was.
“My talent—on the ice—isn’t enough to keep me on any team. Which means I really should try harder to be nice to my teammates, to the management, to the press, to the fans. A team might be more likely to keep me around if I was easier to get along with but I’m usually suspicious of people. Of what they want from me.”
More lessons from Henri, no doubt. “People just want to connect with you, Reid. It’s not rocket science.”
He squeezed her hand against his chest. “So connect with me.”
She brushed her mouth against his. “How’s that?”
“You can do much better.”
She applied more pressure, her lips curving into a smile. “Bon?”
He closed his eyes and slanted his lips over hers. “Tres bon,” he whispered. They kissed for a while, another perfect moment in the blanketed dark, crafting cozy healing with a kiss.
Her eyes felt wet. “God, I’m ridiculous.”
“You’re many things, but ridiculous isn’t one of them. You endured a heartbreaking tragedy. And today, you were reminded of that loss when you thought Edie might be hurt. I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t you dare apologize!”
“Do you know how rare this is? Take the win, Coffee Shop Girl.”
That made her laugh. And then it made her kiss. Perhaps saying sorry was the perfect seduction.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing her eyelids, then her nose. “So sorry.” He whispered his lips over her cheekbone, down to her jaw, then a brush at the corner of her mouth. “Sorrier than I could ever be.”
He was commiserating with her over so much more than not running Edie ice-skating jaunt by her first, and she adored him for it. Her lips found his and applied a sweet, sultry pressure. The tightness in her chest eased slightly in this precious space with Reid, who was so solid, serious, and generous.
“Thank you for spending time with her. It’s sweet of you.”
“It’s not sweet. I’m determined to become a bingo champion.”
Reid playing bingo with the oldsters was adorable. “Always the competitor.”
“And when you’re gone, I’ll continue to visit her. If that’s okay with you.”
When you’re gone. She didn’t have time to process the words—the pain of them—because he was still talking.
“Unless … you’ve thought about staying longer. It seems a shame to disappoint all your doggie clients, old and new. And maybe this yoga thing with the WAGs could turn into something. People need you.”
In the half-dark, she watched his eyes fixed on hers. What was he asking? That she stay with him as his roommate, employee, or something else? It would be so easy to nudge her way into this life that didn’t really belong to her. Enjoy the comfort he offered. The peace inside these sheet walls.
But Reid could be on a different team next year, or he could get tired of her, and she would have involved herself for nothing.
The hardest things in her life had already happened to her—or so she had thought. Wrapped in the safety of Reid’s arms, she worried that relaxing her guard would put her in danger of feeling so deep all over again. Attachment is the root of all suffering. Right?
“I like my life. I like making my own way, being my own boss, deciding my own destiny.”
“You don’t have to travel halfway around the world to do any of that. All that could be achieved right here, except you’d have a network of people to rely on. A team on your side. A home, employment, security. Where were you living before here?”
She started at the abrupt query. “Before?”
“I saw your suitcase in your trunk that day at the beach. Where were you staying before here?”
“My car.”
Shocked blue eyes met hers. “Ken.”
“I’d been living at Edie’s place but her son sold it and they changed the locks. Every roommate lead had dried up but I was ever hopeful—and look, it worked out. I’ve stayed in worse places.”
“Than your car?”
She’d slept in sketchy hostels, in dark doorways, on foreign beaches. She knew what it was like to be alone, but she always made sure it was her choice. It was safer that way.
“I always manage, Reid.”
“By putting yourself in danger? Does Edie know about this?”
“No, and she won’t.”
“Ken—”
She planted a kiss on his lips because as much as she loved listening to Reid, she didn’t want anything to ruin their final days together. In his arms, in this blanket fort, in this temporary life, she felt safe but Walt Whitman knew the score.