Dear Roomie (Rookie Rebels #5) - Kate Meader Page 0,93

definitely off the market?”

Sadie threw up her hands. “Are you really that desperate to snag a hockey player?”

Mia grinned. “She’s just looking for love wrapped up in a multi-million-dollar contract. Eight-pack preferred. You know, Reid seems to be in a better mood these last couple of weeks. Even Cal commented on it.”

“I think being kinder to himself has opened him up,” Kennedy said. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s still intense, but maybe not as tunnel-visioned as before. There’s more to life than hockey.”

“Sure, there’s puppies,” Mia said, counting off on one hand. “And hot sex. And too-hot curries. And whatever else you’re doing to keep him satisfied.”

“Bucky is good for him.”

“So are you.” Mia’s words were sweet but painful. “I know he might be a hard guy to love.”

“Why do people think that? If you took the time to—”

Mia, Sadie, and Tara stared back at her with obnoxious smiles.

“Oh, shut up.”

They had her number and so did Reid. She didn’t want to dwell on the past, when a burning ball of fire ushered in an era of darkness. She wanted more afternoons in blanket forts and nights watching a game she knew nothing about and bingo with Edie. She wanted to embrace possibilities, not just with a man, but with her life.

She had decided to decline the job in Thailand, refund her ticket, and tell Reid how she felt.

Mia eyed her over the neck of her beer bottle. “You’re thinking of sticking around, aren’t you?”

“Possibly.”

She needed to talk to Reid and see if they were on the same page. After last night, she thought that maybe …

It might be easier if she got her own place and separated the employer/landlord aspect from the personal. The dog-walking business might be sustainable, but would be even better if she could expand it to concierge services. So much to think about. So much to do.

“Sadie, Kennedy’s thinking of starting up a personal assistant business with the Rebels as her primary client base.” Mia winked at Kennedy. “Any tips for her?”

“God knows they need it,” Casey cut in before Sadie could respond as she sat down with a giant bowl of Chex Mix that was apparently only for herself. “You know Erik Jorgenson once asked me to buy his clothes for him. I told him that’s not the job of the CEO’s PA!”

Everyone stared at Casey, who seemed pretty riled.

“Well, it’s not,” she insisted faintly, slightly less riled.

Mia pointed her beer bottle at her. “Do you have something against Erik? Because he’s the sweetest guy on the planet.”

“Yeah, sure he is. The sweetest.”

Everyone shared baffled glances, wondering what Erik had ever done to Casey beyond asking for some assistance at Big n’ Tall. As far as Kennedy could tell he was a doofus man-child with great hair. The flow was strong with that one. (Look at her, learning the lingo!)

At the risk of incurring Casey’s wrath, Kennedy mentioned how she had been running errands for the Rebels goalie. “He’s been paying me to do some things. Dry-cleaning, research. Some of the other guys, too.”

“You should do that!” Tara said. “Like a business.”

Uh, yes, Tara. That’s what I’ve been trying to say for the last five minutes.

Kennedy wanted to pick Sadie’s brain some more, but the second period had started …

… and then it all turned to absolute shit.

33

Coach Calhoun came into the players’ lounge. It must be the second intermission.

“Any word, son?”

Reid shook his head. The medics had rushed Bast off the ice ten minutes ago and no one had come out of the medical room. If it were more serious than that, surely he would be in an ambulance to Riverbrook Memorial by now.

“Sorry I fucked up.”

“You went hard. Too hard. The ejection was the right call.”

The words were abrupt. Angry. Exactly what Reid deserved, a nice warm-up to the verbal beat down he would surely receive when Henri got some face time.

The first period had been messy, and not just because of the Durand boys facing off on the ice. Crosstown rivalries often took on an even more adversarial vibe. The fans smack-talked, the press bayed for blood, the players got caught up in it.

It was a routine play at the beginning of the second period, a standard chase for the puck. Bast got there first and while usually it was Kershaw’s job to defend, Reid forced himself into the mix. His elbow came up and found a soft landing right under Bast’s visor, the chaser to a full-body check of his