Dear Roomie (Rookie Rebels #5) - Kate Meader Page 0,19
be a place to stay anywhere but the backseat of her Ford Focus followed by a dog in need of her special skillset. This grouchy grump of a grinch would come in at a very, very distant third.
“Okay, I’ll stop by and see if Bucky and I are a good fit. Where do you live?”
Kennedy exited the elevator of one of those luxury high-rises in downtown Riverbrook and walked down the hall just as a door opened. Out rushed a bundle of energy on four legs, barking his head off.
She fell to her knees and reached for him, but he cowered, as shaky as a leaf in the wind.
“It’s okay, I’m a friend. We’ve already met.”
She looked up. Hot Jerk stood at the entrance to his apartment wearing a black tee stretched tight enough to give pec-impressions and nipples at the ready, which had the domino effect of placing her nipples at the ready.
That’s what he wore for visitors? Positively indecent.
The dog turned tail and ran back to his daddy.
“He’s a little jumpy, huh?” she said, knowing the feeling.
“The vet says he has ringworm and is malnourished.”
“What about his eye?”
Hot Jerk looked even hotter in his fury. “That happened a while back. Maybe a year, according to the vet. Some of the gashes are more recent.”
Consistent abuse. Then someone got sick of using him as a punching bag and either threw him in the lake or abandoned him in such a way that he ended up there. Though somehow she doubted this little guy took that jump all by himself.
She walked toward them both, careful about making any sudden movements. Odd, but that strategy seemed appropriate for both of them.
“You going to invite me in?”
He stood back, gesturing with a hand toward the inside. She had run a quickie background check by calling Mia immediately after she got off the phone with HJ. When Kennedy mentioned she was coming over to Reid’s to discuss a job offer, Mia had chuckled and murmured, “This should be good.”
The bottom line was that she didn’t feel in any immediate danger from this guy.
Not physical anyway.
She had also done her Internet due diligence, which was enough to give her the facts, Ma’am. Just the facts.
Reid Durand was twenty-seven, Canadian, and considered a bit of a bad boy in the NHL. So those exact words weren’t used, but she could infer with the best of them. Pundits mentioned his tendency to trash-talk both his teammates and his opponents, and his atypical, unCanadian rudeness during press conferences. He had once made a (male) reporter break down in tears. Even the teammates at his old club were less than flattering about his personality. Difficult, ornery, and cantankerous were the nicer things said about him.
The coffee shop behavior was on brand, apparently.
“Let me take your coat.” Before she could demur, he had placed his hands on her shoulders from behind and gently tugged. The proximity of him was heady, just as before when he was putting her coat on near the lake. Off, on, apparently it didn’t matter.
She only had this one heavy coat, a seven-dollar find at Goodwill. Kennedy’s usual clothes were hot weather and yoga appropriate, meaning not appropriate for a Chicago winter at all. He hung the coat up in a closet, which was about the nicest thing that had ever happened to it.
She was kind of regretting wearing this sweater right now, one of Edie’s gems, borrowed along with the rest of her winter wardrobe. It had cats embroidered on it with green jewels for eyes. Yesterday she’d thought it ironic. Today, not so much.
She sought out the dog, now nowhere to be seen. “Where did he go?”
“He’s in the empty TV box.” Sure enough, the cardboard box that had once housed the fifty-inch screen affixed to the living room wall, was breathing. “I think he feels safe in there.”
“Has he been like this all day?”
“He was better when I brought him out for a walk to the coffee shop and the pet store but he was nervous at the vet’s office. He didn’t like the shots.” He gave her a twice-over, long and penetrating. “Are you recovered from the day’s events?”
“I’m okay. I think I’ll just sit here and see if he comes to me.” She took a seat on the sofa. “Maybe you can tell me more about what you have in mind.”
Reid—she couldn’t call him Hot Jerk forever and frankly, the label was fifty percent too nice anyway—sat at the other