Dear Roomie (Rookie Rebels #5) - Kate Meader Page 0,35
then back at Cal. “You should invite him out to make up for it.”
Cal’s face twisted like Munch’s The Scream. “Why the hell would I do that? I have to room with him on away games and believe me, he’s not interested in making friends. I’ve already tried the Foreman charm, which is bona fide irresistible. Except to that guy.”
What a strange dynamic. Kennedy would have thought it was a complete sausage fest and all the teammates would be great buddies to bond better for performance enhancement. “So you don’t get along with Reid?”
“No one gets along with Reid,” Cal said. “But he likes it that way. Thinks if he’s a dick to everyone it makes him the ultimate tough guy.”
“Daddy issues,” Mia said cryptically.
“Really?”
Mia glanced at Cal, then back at Kennedy. “His father is a hockey legend, known for being a hard-ass both on and off the ice. Can’t have been easy.”
“Yeah, Henri Durand coached for a stint at the Montreal Royals while I was there a while back,” Cal said. “Guy was an asshole but Reid’s his stepson. Not genetic. Developed that sparkling personality all by himself.” He frowned at Mia and Kennedy, who were both staring him down. “Hey, don’t feel sorry for him. The guy knows exactly what he’s doing. No one plays mind games better than Durand.”
“You need to be a better teammate, Cal.” Mia smiled conspiratorially at Kennedy. “We’ll figure something out.”
Cal’s brow lined like a corduroy swatch. “That cannot be good.”
13
Reid heard the key in the lock and so did Bucky. He ran to the door and sat on his haunches, waiting. Bucky, that is. Though Reid was tempted. Seriously tempted.
He shouldn’t be looking forward to a stranger invading his house, shocking his routine, and upsetting his equilibrium. Since Bucky had come into his life, Reid found himself questioning his lone-wolf strategy. Though he wasn’t planning on being too friendly, he saw no reason why he couldn’t enjoy the company of his new roommate.
Kennedy breezed in, dropped her yoga mat, and fell to her knees.
“Bucky, how are ya, my friend?”
Happier for seeing you, Bucky said with a face lick.
For the last week they’d fallen into a routine. On non-game days Reid was at practice each day, came home for a nap and food in the afternoon, then went back to the gym. By the time he got home, Kennedy was in her room with her door closed, but had left Post-its about Bucky’s care. What he ate, when he took his meds, how long they walked around the park. This was the first time their paths had crossed significantly enough to have a conversation.
She looked up and smiled. Shot through the heart, as Bon Jovi would say.
“Good practice, roomie?” A smirk accented the label.
“Yep, fine.”
She slipped off her bulky coat and hung it in the closet. Beneath she wore tight yoga pants and a long-sleeved tee that skimmed the top of her gorgeous ass. On the front of the tee was an image of Black Widow and the slogan It Should Have Been Clint.
So they were both Avengers fans. Lots of people were, but still, it was a nice touchpoint. He managed to drag his eyes away as she headed to the kitchen.
“I was going to make lunch, then I’ll get out of your way.”
He followed her and leaned against the counter. “Everything okay for the last few days? Settling in all right?”
“Peachy.” She pulled out the bread and cheese, and threw the sandwich together quickly.
“That doesn’t look very filling.”
“Oh, it’s fine.”
He picked up the sandwich. “This isn’t fine. That’s not real cheese.”
“Sure it is. And please stop manhandling my sandwich.”
“I insist you share my food.”
Her lips turned up at the corners. “Maybe I don’t want to. It looks weird.”
“Gouda is weird?”
“No, the green juice and the grain stuff.”
“You don’t have to eat that, but you’re welcome to the turkey and gouda and wheat bread. And all this other stuff Bastian brought—I won’t eat it.”
“Bastian?”
“My brother. He dropped off some groceries.”
The prick knew Reid was careful about his diet, yet here he was stocking the cupboards with beer and Brie and fucking gelato. Kennedy could have it all. She was clearly short of funds, living paycheck to paycheck. Reid was paid a lot of money to play hockey, and while he was good at it, he often wondered if he was worth those millions. Perhaps the person who looked after animals and helped old people get fit should be respected more.