Dear Roomie

by Kate Meader

  Maybe everything.

  25

  Reid had gone to sleep with excellent plans for his day off.

  Wake up.

  Give Kennedy an orgasm.

  Coffee.

  Another orgasm (both of them this time).

  Walk his dog.

  Make breakfast (he had a craving for a Denver omelet, maybe with … cheese?).

  Cuddle both dog and woman for the rest of the day.

  He had even considered skipping the gym.

  It started well. He’d awakened to a furnace of soft, curvaceous heat sprawled across his body. With several weeks to make up, he woke her with a kiss between her legs, his new favorite place. She was halfway to paradise before her eyes opened and screaming to the heavens before the sun was up. So far, so good.

  “Hi.” She snuggled into him after a brief, orgasm-fueled nap. (The nap was not on the schedule but he was willing to be flexible on this one issue. The Kennedy effect.)

  “Morning.” He kissed her softly. “You sleep okay?”

  “No, terribly. Someone woke me up at the crack of dawn. So annoying.”

  “You should complain to the landlord.”

  She leaned up on her elbow, her silver eyes laughing. Had he done that? He wanted to think so.

  “Complaint lodged! This girl needs her sleep.”

  “Understood. You have what you want, now I’m no longer of use.”

  She coasted her hand over his chest. “I wouldn’t say that. I can think of plenty of uses for you.”

  “Dis-moi.”

  Her body gave a little shiver and he leaned over to kiss the tattoo cuffing her upper arm. A Thai peace symbol, she had said.

  “What does that mean?” she asked.

  “It means ‘tell me.’ Tell me about all the ways I can be of service.”

  She considered it for a moment. “Other than the obvious orgasm provision, I’m thinking coffee-making, hot-tub preparation, smoothie-blending—but without the kale, please, because ugh—and foot rub-giving. Got any of that on your resume?”

  “Tout ça et plus.”

  “Which means?”

  “All that and more.” He pulled her close, his hand smoothing over the scars on the side of her body. She had them on her leg as well and an urge to know more, to know everything, rose up in him swift and sharp.

  “What happened here?”

  She didn’t shut him down like before, possibly because pillow talk lent itself to a naked vulnerability. “A house fire when I was fifteen. My parents died and that’s when I went to live with Edie.”

  He gently skimmed the hurt with his fingertips. “I’m so sorry, ma belle.”

  “Thank you. I won’t deny it had a huge effect on me. Losing your parents is hard under any circumstances but as a teen, it really crushes you. I went through therapy, took some time for self-care. I’m not really a suffer-in-silence kind of person.”

  Like him. Was that what she meant?

  Not always about you, dummy.

  Given her loss, her independent nature was completely understandable. Admirable, even. But she didn’t need to do it solo. She had teased him about his self-denial and about going easier on himself. Yet here was Kennedy pulling the lone-wolf act for which Reid was famous.

  Words weren’t his strong point but he had other ways.

  “I told you once I would hold you whenever you needed it. You don’t even have to ask.”

  With shining eyes, she nodded and let him take charge of the cuddle.

  “All those things I said I could do,” he said against her temple. “Coffee, hot tubs, smoothies, foot rubs?”

  “And orgasms,” she whispered.

  “And orgasms. Those things are just the beginning.” He whispered a few more skills on his resume, ones that were hers for the taking. “Mon corps pour vous garder au chaud. Mes bras pour vous garder en sécurité. Mon cœur pour te garder ancré.”

  My body to keep you warm.

  My arms to keep you safe.

  My heart to keep you anchored.

  That same heart thudded wildly, recognizing the importance of this moment. He was falling for a woman who had said she couldn’t stay, but maybe he could convince her. Maybe he could bone up on the resume needed to keep a woman like Kennedy in his life.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Just some nonsense.”

  Bucky bounded into the bedroom and jumped on the bed.

  “Bucky!” Kennedy said with a laugh that broke the tension. “You shouldn’t do that. You’re a terrible advertisement for my services.”

  “He needs to go out.” Reid kissed Kennedy’s forehead. “I’ll take him and get the coffee started.

  “Come on, boy, do your thing.”

  Bucky sniffed a patch of tree bark and decided it wasn’t worthy of his efforts. So fickle.

  Reid’s phone rang and he steeled himself for a call from Henri. Surprised, he saw it was Coach Calhoun. Shit. He hadn’t said much after Reid’s performance last night, but obviously he preferred to do his bawl-outs in private, which was better than the Henri way, Reid supposed.

  He answered. “Coach.”

  “Durand. So how are you this morning?”

  “Disappointed.” He was, about the game, but he couldn’t claim disappointment about anything that had occurred in the aftermath. With Kennedy, hockey’s importance—his reason for being on this earth, he had thought—diminished, a conclusion that shocked him and would never pass his lips. “I’m sorry about last night.”

  His body tensed, waiting for the harsh critique he deserved.

  “So you didn’t play to your potential. That happens. Not everyone can be on at every minute.”

  “But you put your faith in me and I let you down—”

  “Reid, listen to me. I’m a hard-ass, but hell, no one is harder on you than you are on yourself. It was your first shot at center in prime time. Did you think it would click just like that? Foreman and Petrov have history and are in tune with each other. But you’re the linchpin on that line. You’ve got to get in sync with both of them. It’ll just take practice, which I know you’re not afraid of.”

  No, he wasn’t. His heart should have felt heavy but it didn’t. It felt fucking hopeful.

  He wanted a multi-year contract with a team. With this team. With a coach who saw his potential and not everything he did wrong.

  “I don’t mind working hard.”

  Coach chuckled. “That’s what I want to hear. Enjoy your day off and be ready to grind at practice tomorrow.”

  “Will do. Thanks, Coach.”

  He didn’t have time to enjoy this novel feeling of contentment because a text had come in from Kennedy while he was on the call.

  So you’re not going to like this …

  He read the rest and cursed loud enough to make Bucky finally pee and take a nice, healthy dump.

  Reid was fine with the sound of his own dog barking. After all, Bucky’s voice was almost melodic and usually meant he was happy about his latest treat. Reid was less sure about other dogs especially in an enclosed space while people knocked back Mimosas, Bloody Marys, and eggs Benedict.

  Foreman looked about as pleased as Reid to be spending his Sunday at Fido’s on Main, Riverbrook’s very own dog-friendly restaurant with a heated indoor patio. Apparently this was the latest thing. Man and canine, brunching together at last.

  “They have this amazing bread pudding,” Mia said. “We could get one for the table or maybe a half-one for me. I could probably eat the whole thing.”

  Foreman’s eyes softened. “Wouldn’t want to deny you your bread pudding rights, gorgeous girl. We’ll get a large one for the rest of us and you can have a bowl all for yourself.”

  “Best. Boyfriend. Ever.”

  Foreman grinned, then caught Reid’s eye and dropped the act. “You still pissed about last night, Durand?”

  “Yeah,” Kennedy said, her wicked smile stretching wide, her eyes sparkling like shining quarters. “Are you?”


  He pressed his thigh against hers, hoping to discourage her from being too mischievous. He certainly didn’t want his business known by all and sundry. Apparently Kennedy and Mia had set this brunch up a few days ago, but the way the two of them were grinning like Cheshire cats, he had to wonder if there were some shenanigans afoot.

  Reid wasn’t one to waste an opportunity. As he was here breathing the same sugar-on-French-toast-scented air as Foreman, he may as well get the man’s opinion. “So last night didn’t go so well.”

  Oh, that confused the hell out of the Masshole.

  Foreman eyed him with suspicion, then after a beat said, “I feel like it was coming together in practice, so I guess it’s just performance anxiety.” He winced and turned to Mia. “What? Why did ya kick me?”

  “Because you’re being mean to Reid. He needs positive encouragement.”

  “I really don’t.”

  Foreman waved a hand. “See? No one needs the soft soap here. We’re all adults and Durand played like a donkey.”

  Reid snorted his appreciation for Foreman’s candid assessment. “Thanks, Foreskin.”

  Cal muttered a curse under his breath.

  Kennedy sent a baffled look Mia’s way. “I don’t understand sports people.”

  “This is standard intra-team smack talking,” Mia said cheerfully. “You’ll figure it out.”

  The server stopped by to take their orders, including from a special dog menu for Bucky and Gordie Howe, who were both lying on the floor, checking each other out.

  “So how’s the roommate thing going, guys?” Mia asked, in one of those oh-so-innocent tones that no one bought for a second.

  “I’ll let Kennedy answer that.” Reid ran a hand under the table over her thigh and squeezed because even though he was in favor of keeping his private life private, he couldn’t resist touching her.

  She turned to him, that gorgeous smile already lighting up her face. “He’s a neat freak.”

  “She’s never met a dish she couldn’t dirty.”

  “While I’m cooking awesome meals for you, ingrate!”

  Reid let his hand wander inside thigh and inch north … “Her coffee is undrinkable, her curry is inedible, she hogs my shower because the guest one isn’t good enough for her …” He shrugged. “Bucky likes her. That’s something, I suppose.”

  She leaned into his shoulder, and just that simple press sent him into the stratosphere of joy.

  “As you can see, living with a roommate hasn’t softened him up in the slightest.”

  “Oh, I dunno.” Foreman took a sip of his OJ. “He seems a changed man. Pity it doesn’t translate to the ice. So Kennedy, I hear you’re leaving the country in a couple of weeks.”

  Reid shot a sharp look at Foreman, whose lips twitched.

  “Right, I’m usually in Asia during the winter and I have a job lined up teaching English in Thailand in January. Just waiting for my visa to come through. This is the longest I’ve stayed in the US for years.”

  Reid’s heart started an unsteady thump. Kennedy had made no secret of her plans, but talking about it pissed him off. Foreman had clearly deduced this.

  “Just as your dog-walking business was taking off,” Foreman continued with a flicked glance at Reid. “Seems a shame.”

  “Calling it a business is a stretch.” Kennedy picked up a torn Splenda packet and turned down the corners. “But it’s definitely helped to pad the travel funds.”

  “Well, Gordie Howe is going to miss you. Bucky, too.” Mia sent a look of abject pity at Reid. Just great. Then to Kennedy, “You should come to a game. Be Reid’s good luck charm!”

  “Watch him at work?” She turned to him. “You’d hate that, wouldn’t you?”

  Nope. “Might not be so terrible.”

  She didn’t say anything, just held his gaze. So it was a terrible idea …

  “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

  “I’d love to! I might not know much about hockey but I bet it’s even better in the stadium.”

  Foreman opened his mouth to correct her, and Reid kicked him under the table. He wasn’t sure which he enjoyed more: Foreman’s yelp of pain or Kennedy’s enthusiasm about seeing him play at the “stadium.” Call it even.

  “I get four tickets per game and I don’t usually give them out.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” More wisdom from the lips of the Masshole.

  “Ooh, if that’s the case, could I bring Edie and her gentleman friend? I think she’d love it.”

  “Of course. Only …”

  She was on it in a flash. “I know you don’t want to leave Bucky alone but we could ask Sandy to watch him for the evening.” At his questioning look, she added, “Your neighbor in 3B? She has this gorgeous Mastiff, a gentle giant. She’d be happy to help out.”

  A stranger? A neighbor-stranger, though he couldn’t place her. Probably because he hadn’t made any effort with his neighbors. Of course Kennedy would know her.

  She gripped his hand under the table and squeezed. “Listen, just think about it. I’d love it if you can get tickets for Edie even if I can’t go. She’d go nuts for that.”

  “We’ll figure it out.”

  With Kennedy, it seemed he was saying that more and more these days, in complete opposition to his usual inflexibility. She smiled at him, and yep, he was lost in that sun. For someone who didn’t enjoy the light, he sure as hell was drinking in all the Vitamin D he could these days.

  Don’t get used to it. After all, she had a one-way ticket out of here in a few weeks, as Foreman had been so quick to remind him.

  Foreman sniffed. “Look at you two, problem-solving like good little roommates.”

  Annoyed, Reid broke his gaze with Kennedy and redirected it at someone far less deserving. The Masshole smirk was in full flight.

  The bread pudding arrived, which was about the only reason Reid didn’t kick Foreman again.

  “Ask questions if you have them.”

  She grinned. “You’re going to regret that offer.”

  They had just returned from a walk around the park with Bucky. Reid had given her a scarf and too-big beanie because he was worried she’d catch a cold and pass it onto him, which would interfere with his play—at least that was his story. His spare pair of gloves were too big so he insisted on keeping her hand in a warm cocoon in his pocket.

  Brunch with Mia and Cal had been good for Reid. He wasn’t a natural mixer, so Kennedy was all in favor of pushing him into “playdates” and modeling healthy relationships. Post-brunch they had spent the afternoon modeling a few new sex positions, and now she was cuddled up with him on the sofa, about to watch a game she knew nothing about. The Hawks, the other Chicago-based team, were playing the Boston Cougars in Beantown.

  The TV was on mute during the pre-game because Reid said the commentators were “know-nothing idiots.” A grid of headshots appeared on the screen.

  “Hey, it’s Bastian! I thought he was injured.”

  “Hard to keep him down.”

  Something occurred to her. “So how come your father didn’t come down to see you play, even if Bast couldn’t?”

  “My father’s fine with watching me on TV. He’s a purist. Bast is so talented that watching him live is a thing of beauty.”

  “And you’re not talented?”

  “I’m a grinder. Effort’s not as pleasurable to watch.”

  He really believed that, or someone had convinced him. Kennedy was not a fan of this Henri character.

  The game started, and for the next thirty minutes, Reid patiently explained how it worked.

  “So tell me more about this position switch you’re trying. What does the center do?”

  “Everything. It’s the toughest position on the ice. Needs good offensive and defensive capabilities. Should be a steadier player rather than a flashy one. That player has to be the bulwark of the team, directing traffic, controlling the center of the ice. The team that controls center ice contr
ols the game.”

  “Would’ve thought your control freak tendencies would make you well-suited to that.”

  She turned away on the last word, but now felt his stare.

  “My control freak tendencies?”

  “Reid. Come on.” She met his gaze head on. “Are you going to pretend you’re not a teensy bit controlling? It’s hot but it’s also kind of freaky.”

  “You think it’s hot?”

  She smiled at his smirky eyebrow. “Yes, Reid, I do.”

  She usually had no problems discussing sex, and as long as she was teasing someone and keeping it light, then it was perfectly fine. But this had the potential to get personal. To get into the weeds of who Reid was at his core.

  “I like things a certain way. I know it comes off as rigid, but as you once advised me, I’m trying to lighten the fuck up.” He rubbed a hand over Bucky’s back. “We’re not all brave world travelers.”

  On any other day she would have let that comment slide, but after that conversation about her travels at brunch, she wondered if there was a little shade in there. Even if Reid was interested in more than just a hot, hormonal fling, she sure as hell wasn’t going to change her MO for a guy she hardly knew—not even if he was amazing in the sack.

  Or needed an on-site dog nanny for a long-term gig.

  Or made her feel warm and fuzzy because every smile he sent her way was so hard-won.

  Instead she focused on the first thing he’d said. That he had taken something she once said to heart sent her own heart into overdrive.

  “Beware of wisdom from women serving coffee. Not much better than bartenders.”

  He nuzzled her nose and dropped a kiss on it. “Sure, Coffee Shop Girl. You were right, though. I can’t become a different person overnight but incremental changes here and there, I can work with that.”

  Pride suffused her chest. On her travels she often ran into people who claimed to be on a path of self-discovery or were fixing themselves one mile on the road at a time. It just went to show that you didn’t have to leave home to make those changes. Here was Reid, a man who recognized his limitations, and who was willing to do the work to be kinder to himself.