Dear Roomie (Rookie Rebels #5) - Kate Meader Page 0,57

journey lasted for another minute. Too short, though Reid wondered why he thought that given she had barely imparted any information at all. They pulled up outside a pleasant-looking building.

“Do you need a ride home?”

“I wouldn’t say no. I’ll be a couple of hours, though. Actually it would—never mind.”

“Dis-moi.”

She gave a little shiver though the car was quite warm. “Could I bring Bucky? The residents love when I bring dogs to visit and it would be good socialization for him, too. But I’m sure you have tons to do today on your day off.”

Laundry, house-cleaning, gym time, jerking off to fantasies of his hot roommate … “We could come in for a short visit.”

“Awesome!” She smiled and his heart flipped uncomfortably. Bucky took it better. He hopped out of the car the moment Reid opened the door.

She took his leash from Reid and their hands brushed. Reid ignored the static charge. He didn’t believe in static charges. “I’ve got him. Could you grab my yoga mat and blocks? That would be really helpful.”

“Sure.” So he was the yoga boy now. Cute.

The moment they went inside, people crowded around Kennedy and Bucky. At first he was worried that Bucky would be frightened but the brave fella took it in his stride. These last couple of weeks he had definitely become easier around people, such an improvement from that first day.

A mix of staff and residents made a fuss, and Reid wanted to think it was the dog, but it wasn’t.

It was Kennedy. She brought sunshine into their lives.

About a minute in, someone screamed, “Reeeeeeeeeeeeed Duraaaaaaaaaand” with an upswing on the last syllable like it was building to a cymbals crash.

Everyone, who up until now had been cooing over Kennedy and Bucky, turned and stared as if he’d made that horrendous sound. The crowd parted and a mini-Moses with gray hair and sparkling green eyes appeared in the center of the group. She looked him up and down, and declared, “I can’t believe Ryan Reynolds beat you out for Sexiest Canadian Alive. It was rigged!”

Mon Dieu. He shot a beseeching glance at Kennedy, who made the introductions. “Reid, meet Edie. Edie, Reid owns Bucky.”

Bucky was currently humping his leg, proving that he pretty much owned Reid.

“Are you joining us for yoga?” the screecher—Edie—asked.

“Just here for a visit.”

“I need a word with you.” She put her arm through Reid’s and he waited for her to give him some of the usual fan-to-player spiel.

That last drive to the net would have gone in if you did X, Y, or Z.

Let me tell you about my nephew who has an amazing slap shot.

Bet your dad is proud of you! Henri Durand, just imagine!

Everyone had an opinion, thought they could see inside his head. He prepared to be hit up for tickets or asked about Theo Kershaw (the grannies loved Kershaw), so he wasn’t quite ready for what came next.

“Are you dating my granddaughter?”

“Edie!” Kennedy shook her head.

“It’s a simple question.”

“I’m his dog sitter,” Kennedy protested, and mouthed “sorry” at him.

“Kennedy would never date someone like me. She has more sense.”

Edie was having none of it. “Why not? You’re very handsome.”

“Thanks, but Kennedy and I are just … roommates.” Hot kisses and offers for post-season oblivion notwithstanding.

“When has that ever stopped anyone? In fact, it should be easier with you both in the same house.”

“Edie!” Kennedy had gone red, which was strange because she came across as incapable of embarrassment. “Could you stop it? The guy’s also my boss.”

Though it hadn’t felt like he was the boss, when he woke up with his arms wrapped around her, his dick a rod of iron nudging her ass and seeking a way in. It felt like she was in charge and he was along for the ride.

Edie was already on another subject. “You’d do better on the same line as that Cal Foreman.”

Sometimes he had to explain hockey to people. “We play the same position. When’s he’s on, I’m off and vice versa.”

She gave a low growl, but it wasn’t because she didn’t understand. She was trying to tell him something. “You should be playing center.”

Huh, Edie was pretty sharp—or had an in with Coach Calhoun. “You know your hockey.”

“You bet your steel buns I do. So what’s wrong with my granddaughter?”

“Edie!” Kennedy yelped.

Nothing was wrong with her. So she tempted, teased, and drove him crazy. But other than that, she was perfect.

“Reid, what are you doing for Thanksgiving? I know they do it differently in Canada. You