Chapter 7 - Kennedy #2
He opened the door wider, lifting his arm and leaning it against it. “Come in.”
Without a word, I death-gripped the handle of my suitcase and hesitated for a moment before strolling in.
My eyes roamed the area, taking everything in.
The foyer was wide, with shiny white marble floors and a black matte table with shoe storage, not a trace of dust in sight.
The walls were a cool light gray, adorned with minimalistic, mute paintings.
He shut the door, and when he stood closer to me, my nostrils were assaulted with his spicy, masculine scent. He smelled of bergamot with a hint of something earthy and smoky…like vetiver. It was a bold scent, which, oddly enough, suited him.
“Do you have any boxes in your car we need to bring up?”
“Not many. But I can take care of those later.”
He reached for my suitcase handle, his knuckles grazing my hand. The touch was unexpectedly charged, so I retracted my hand quickly, desperately trying to tame the buzzing sensation rippling through my body.
“I’ll give you the tour, and then I’ll go get them while you get settled.” He walked down the foyer, and I aimlessly followed after him.
I wasn’t a stranger to fancy things. Joe’s parents came from old money and loved to flaunt it every chance they got. But as I took in the apartment, I was at a loss for words.
The place was an open concept with floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around the living room and the side of the kitchen, offering a perfect view of Navy Pier and the bustling city.
The view alone took my breath away. It had to be beautiful at night, especially with the fireworks happening almost every evening at the Pier during the summer.
Something purred and rubbed against my legs, and when I looked down, I found a fluffy black cat with the cutest white paws. When he peered up at me, his majestic orange eyes locked on mine as he let out a soft meow.
I crouched down and started petting his head softly. “You must be Captain Sushi,” I whispered. He meowed again like he was agreeing. “Hi, sweet boy.”
“He likes you. He doesn’t even rub against me like that.”
“I thought Hayes said he had separation anxiety?” I looked up at him, squinting.
He cleared his throat with a quick nod. “He does, but that doesn’t mean he’s not an asshole sometimes.”
The cat stared at him when he said that, and it was too late to stop the laugh that bubbled out of me. “I can’t believe you have a cat.”
He frowned. “Why not?”
I rose to my full height and pinned him with a glare. “Honestly? I thought you guys were full of shit.”
“Why would you think that?”
“We both know you love fucking with me,” I replied in a dry tone.
“No, I don’t,” he said, but I didn’t miss the way he suppressed a smile.
“Oh, so we’re going to pretend you don’t love to get under my skin every chance you get?” I tilted my head.
He raised his hands in mock defeat. “To be fair, it’s not my fault you get so easily riled up.”
“I’m not easily riled up. You just so happen to have a natural talent for annoying everyone around you,” I retorted.
He thinned his lips to contain his laughter, his eyes flashing with a see?
So easy look. “Let me give you the tour.” He waved his hand around and strode into the open-concept kitchen.
“I have a chef who cooks my meals and stocks them in the fridge weekly. I try to follow a strict diet during the season, but he can make you whatever you want. Let me know if you’re allergic to anything. ”
The kitchen was centered around a white granite island flanked by light-gray barstools.
The gray cabinets had soft underlighting, adding a sense of warmth to the kitchen.
Double ovens gleamed against the backdrop, alongside a fridge seamlessly integrated into the cabinetry, and a door I assumed led to the pantry.
I shook my head. “That’s not necessary. I can cook for myself.”
He shrugged. “I don’t mind. Consider it a thank you, since I know your schedule has to be crazy because of me.”
I gave him an awkward smile, opting to stay silent because he was mostly right. Working to fix his image on top of everything else I had going on kept me extremely busy. Most of the time, I was so tired I either ate a packet of ramen or skipped dinner altogether and went straight to bed.
He pointed at the living room. “The couch is stupidly comfortable. I’ve been victimized by it and fallen asleep there too many times to count. I have every streaming service, which you’re welcome to use. I even created a profile for you. But there’s also a TV in your room in case you prefer that.”
The living room had a black L-shaped couch, paired with a cool-gray rug and a minimalistic white coffee table. The couch faced a massive TV seamlessly built into the wall, giving the area a modern, polished feel.
The image of him sprawled out on the couch in nothing but his boxers suddenly invaded my mind—his chiseled muscles, the sharp lines of his V-cut I’d seen many times during photo ops, and that trail of dark hair leading from his navel downward. The thought alone made my spine tingle.
Pull yourself together, Kennedy. This is not the time for inappropriate thoughts about your coworker and roommate.
He strode to the hallway where the rooms were located.
“Here’s your room.” He opened the door, letting me walk in first. “It’s right next to mine.
The other one across the hall is my office that I most definitely don’t use, so you’re welcome to use it.
Every room has its own bathroom, so you have everything accessible. ”
The room was spacious. It almost looked like a master bedroom.
Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the wall, offering another breathtaking view of the bustling city.
A vanity desk with a cute pink velvet chair sat near the wall, and the bed was propped right in the center, adorned with fluffy white pillows and a heavenly-looking comforter.
Never in a million years would I expect Anderson’s place to look like this.
I thought it would resemble a typical bachelor pad.
Don’t get me wrong, this still screamed bachelor in so many languages—but in a much fancier way.
It was almost as if he had bought an entire Ikea catalog—or whatever the fancy furniture store was for rich people like him—to decorate his apartment.
“This is great, seriously. Thank you.” I took a big gulp, trying to push down whatever emotions threatened to boil over.
In a world where kindness and help had been in short supply—partly because I was stubborn as hell—he still offered, not even knowing the full story. And damn, if that didn’t mess with my head a little. Who knew he was capable of being this nice?
I turned around, finding his gaze already settled on me. My stomach tightened at the look alone. “We never talked about how much rent I will be paying.”
He leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms. His biceps bulged against the soft fabric of his shirt and hugged every ripped muscle of his upper arms. “Honestly, Kennedy, I don’t need your money.”
“No,” I replied sharply. “We’re not going to do this. The last thing I want is to be your charity case.”
“You’re not a charity case. You will be taking care of my cat. It’s a fair trade.”
I folded my arms across my chest with a frustrated groan. “Henry.”
“I love it when you call me by my name with that voice of yours. Do it again, please.” His voice was so low and gravelly, involuntary goosebumps sparked all across my body.
I gave him an unimpressed glare and tried my best to mask the unexpected excitement spiking through me at his flirty comment.
My body was betraying me, and I couldn’t have that…
But I also didn’t know how to control it.
“We don’t have to say every thought we have inside our heads. You should try it sometime.”
“No point in lying.” He gave me a casual shrug then stretched his arms. The move caused his shirt to rise, giving me a peek at his chiseled abs.
Was it possible for someone to have such a deep V? And why did he have to wear his shorts so low? Je-sus.
Why are you suddenly so interested? You’ve seen this countless times. Snap out of it!
“My eyes are up here, pretty girl,” he said with a knowing grin as he pointed to his eyes with his index and middle finger.
Shit. Busted.
Heat crept up my cheeks, but I lifted my chin slightly in defiance. “Oh, shut up.”
“I mean…” He did a bigger stretch this time, making his shirt intentionally rise.
He flexed, and somehow his abdomen became even more defined.
Oh, sweet mother. I was ashamed to admit I had the smallest urge to lick him like an ice cream cone after a hot summer day.
“You can take a picture if you want, it’ll last longer.
” The asshole dared to sound smug while he said it.
“Get over yourself,” I muttered as I placed the suitcase on the bed and unzipped it, wanting to keep myself busy.
I didn’t know why I thought living with the most annoying guy on the team, who happened to be stupidly handsome despite how much I tried to ignore it, was a good idea.
This was my personal version of hell.