Dear Roomie (Rookie Rebels #5) - Kate Meader Page 0,36

won’t eat.” She looked understandably baffled. “Then why did he bring it over?”

“To mess with me.”

She crossed her arms over those fabulous breasts. “Explain.”

That made him smile. On the inside. “He knows I have a strict regimen during the season. Diet, exercise—”

“Celibacy.”

Yep. “So he thinks he can chip away at that.”

“And if you cave in on one thing, you’ll be on a slippery slope to empty calories and watching The Bachelor and celebrating your wins with half a Sam Adams and a puck bunny at the bar.”

“He’d love to see it.”

“Sports people.” She shook her head sadly.

“It’s not a sports thing. It’s a Durand thing.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “We’re competitive. But you can help me out my removing some of this food from the sightline of temptation.”

“Shakespeare couldn’t have said it better.” She took out a bottle of Boréale Cuivrée, which was Reid’s favorite amber ale. That connard. “I’ll have one but first, let me see … He bought sweet potatoes and chili peppers? Sort of weird for someone who’s not going to cook them.” She did this cute little nose wrinkle and his lips itched with … he didn’t know what. “Do you like curry?”

Reid was very conscious of his gut health. “That might not work with my diet, but make whatever you want for yourself.”

“You’re opposed to flavor during the season?”

“Plain is better.” Plain food, plain sex (with his hand), plain life. “And you don’t have to cook for me.”

“I can make it healthy. I’d just need to check on the spice situation.” She pulled open one of the cupboards but he could have told her the spice situation would not be to her liking. “Tarragon?” She held up the lone spice jar she found.

“It was here when I moved in.”

Epic eye roll. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Kennedy, you don’t have to—” But she was already out the door.

He looked down at Bucky. “You like curry, buddy?”

He decided to help out by peeling a sweet potato. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d peeled … anything. Judging by the way he was hacking at this, there was a good chance he had never peeled a vegetable at all.

Already, the kitchen was showing signs of impact, though it wasn’t this irregularly-chopped root vegetable. It was her. This woman was an asteroid on a collision course with his life. He could either take a nuclear weapon and blow it up like Bruce and the crew in Armageddon or he could wait for the inevitable extinction level event like the dinosaur he was.

He should go to the gym. Coach Calhoun had warned him off over-training but Reid felt this might be a good time to get on a treadmill to nowhere.

Three minutes later, Kennedy was back with arms full of small containers.

“Where did you get those?”

“Carson in 4C. Such a sweetheart! He opened up his spice rack to me so I think we have everything we need.” She dumped her haul on the counter, and he winced at the mess. “Prepare to be astonished, roomie!”

How had he thought inviting Kennedy and her great rack and tight yoga pants into his home was a good idea? After a week of hardly seeing her, he had assumed: I can do this. But now after ten minutes in her effervescent presence, he was wondering if he’d made a mistake. Neither was she doing anything out of the ordinary. Just being herself.

“How about some music to cook by?” She opened the music app on her phone and soon she was playing—

“‘The Rockford Files’?” He looked at Bucky who had started at the discordant sounds of the electric guitar. “That’s your cooking music?”

“Hell, yeah! Seventies TV themes are my jam.” She flashed him a smile and shimmied her way along the counter. “I had such a crush on James Garner when I was a kid, especially as Jim Rockford. He was always sleeping with the wrong women and getting knocked about by jealous husbands. I wanted to save him.”

“You’re kind of weird, you know that?”

“Roomie, we are all weird.” She picked up the mutilated sweet potato. “I hope you’re a better hockey player than a prep chef.”

“Yeah, I won’t be giving up my day job.”

“Right—oh, hold on, this is my favorite riff.” She went a little loco on the air guitar, pulling an adorable face and nah-nahing along. Then she winked at him and returned to her task of slicing the chicken.

Cooking should be a lust-neutral project. Reid didn’t usually