Dear Roomie (Rookie Rebels #5) - Kate Meader Page 0,17

situation?”

“Sure,” Foreman said around his chewing. “But I don’t have to live with her, which helps. If I could have him here, I’d need someone else on deck to watch him.” He gestured with his sandwich to the dog. “Thinking of keeping him?”

“I’d like to.” Never had a statement about something so important sounded so bland. He wanted to keep this dog with a force that scared him.

Henri wouldn’t let him have a dog when he was a kid and now Reid could do whatever he wanted. Maybe he was using the dog to make a point—what exactly, he wasn’t sure. He just knew that he would make a good caretaker for this poor thing.

“You could kennel him but a dog like this needs special attention,” Foreman said.

“I could hire someone to look after him while I’m away, perhaps.”

Her. Coffee Shop Girl. He could hire her.

She obviously had experience with animals, and how much could she be earning walking dogs and working in a coffee shop? Two jobs, probably part-time. Likely, she was barely making ends meet. This would be the perfect solution.

If his heart started hammering like a runaway train, he would swear in a court of law it was because he was excited about owning a dog.

“You should eat,” Foreman said. “I make a good sandwich.”

Reid picked up the other sandwich, spotting gouda, turkey, lettuce, and when he bit into it, he tasted mayo and a dash of mustard. Usually he wouldn’t eat mayo during the season. He didn’t even realize he had it but Bastian had stopped by yesterday with groceries, a stunt he had started pulling lately to mess with him.

He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until now. “So you make a good sandwich. It’s hardly rocket science.”

“Ungrateful pup.”

That made Reid laugh, which obviously surprised Foreman, whose eyebrows rose in puzzlement.

Feeling unaccountably magnanimous, Reid said, “You need to fix things with Mia.”

Foreman sighed. “You’re matchmaking now.”

“Now? I’ve been rooting for you kids from the start.”

“Asshole.” Foreman looked mildly amused, then thoughtful. After a few seconds, he jumped to his feet. “From the start … Durand, you’re a genius.”

“I know.”

But Foreman was already out the door so fast he left scorch marks on Reid’s hardwood floor.

Reid looked at his new roommate, who, on hearing the front door slam, jumped to his feet and ran around the living room, barking.

“Looks like someone has his mojo back. You up for a visit to the coffee shop?”

7

Because the universe hated her, Kennedy’s foldable travel hairdryer, which had always been too precious for its own good, chose this moment to crap out. She checked the mirror of the locker room at the Y, sighed at her half-damp and unsexily tousled locks, and decided, good enough.

It would have to be.

She’d tried to get a job here teaching yoga when she first landed in Chicago three months ago, but no luck, hence her Frankenstein-ing of various side hustles to make a full hustle. Today she was back—still no magical job—but was forced to pony up the monthly membership fee.

Sixty-nine bucks for unlimited shower access would be a bargain if Kennedy wasn’t so broke. While she had downtime, which was looking like a distinct possibility, she could take free Aqua Fit and yoga classes. She might be qualified to teach it, but it never hurt to check in on how other practitioners were dispensing the latest wisdom.

Jumping in the lake was definitely one of her more bone-headed moves. The “rescuer” looked like he was struggling. The “rescuee” looked like he was in trouble. She was a great swimmer and wasn’t one for second-guessing, well, anything. Once she decided on a course of action, she went full-throttle into the wind.

Or the water.

Discovering who she was rescuing had been, to say the least, a shock. Hot Jerk, himself. Complainer-in-Chief. Thief of employment.

Yet, back on land, she’d curled into his strong touch like a kitten seeking shelter. His big hands on her shoulders and his warm breath on her neck as he slipped her coat back on set her heart and hormones aflutter, all signs that she was a little too desperate for human contact. It had been a while since she’d had a man-made orgasm, and now it looked like it would be even longer because nothing dimmed the fires of lust better than financial ruin and homelessness.

She hoped the dog was okay. Someone had hurt him badly, then threw him away. Kennedy was a sucker for a dog in distress. With his bright eye