Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
Bodi
Jayne steps away from me when the doors open and we’re immediately surrounded by concerned employees.
After we assure them we’re okay, and we’re ushered upstairs to finally get our pictures taken since the electricity is back on, I try to figure out what my next move should be.
I’d like to take her out to dinner or something.
If nothing else, I’ve enjoyed talking to her and it’s not like I have any friends here.
I’m moving in with my new roommates tomorrow, so that’ll help, but female companionship is different.
“Do you need a ride?”
She hesitates but then smiles. “Would you mind?”
“Not at all. Come on.”
We head to my car, and she tells me to turn left as we exit the parking lot.
It’s only two miles away, but as I turn into the neighborhood it’s…well, there is no doubt this is a very affluent neighborhood. Of course, that makes sense.
There’s a lot of wealth in the Atlanta area.
It’s like Hollywood South, from what I’ve read, with tons of movies and shows being filmed here.
There are also three professional sports teams—about to be four once hockey season starts.
Not to mention lots of businesses. So, it stands to reason her father is one of the uber-successful who moved his family to Georgia, depending on what industry he’s in.
“Can I get your number?” I ask as I pull up to the curb in front of the house she points to.
“You realize I still don’t even know your name.”
I snort out a laugh. “Sorry about that—I’m Bodi. Would you like to go out sometime?”
“Nice to meet you, Bodi, and um, yes. I’d like that.”
“I’ll be moving for the next few days, so if I have your number, I can call you once I’m settled and we’ll plan something. Is that okay?”
She’s still frowning but then nods. “Sure. Okay. Yes. It’s Jayne with a Y, by the way.” She rattles off the number before I’ve even had a chance to get my phone out.
“Hang on,” I say, laughing as I hand her my phone. “Here—type it in.”
She quickly does so, and I put in her name—Jayne.
“I’ll call or text you in a few days.” I flash her a smile.
“Thank you for the ride,” she says, then quickly gets out of my car. “Text me when you have time.”
“Will do.”
I watch her hurry down the sidewalk, like she asked me to drop her off in front of someone else’s house.
She’s a bit of an enigma.
And I’m looking forward to finding out more.
Moving into West McGregor’s big-ass McMansion is a lot easier than I anticipated.
He’s big and bearded, a six-foot-four-inch forward on the new hockey team I’ll be playing on, the Atlanta Thunder, and seems like a good guy.
We’ve met a few times here and there since we both lived and played in the Los Angeles area—him for the SoCal Vipers and me for the L.A.
Phantoms—and he’s pretty quiet in general, but I like that in a roommate.
Since this is a brand-new expansion team, the back office hooked us all up in a private chat group and West put out the word that he was about to close on a large house and was looking for roommates.
I immediately replied that I was interested, and I was all in once he told me how much he wanted for rent.
It’s a third of what I was paying for my townhouse in L.A.
, and since I responded first, he said I could have the downstairs en suite guest room.
And the house is freakin’ huge. Five thousand square feet with a full, finished basement, four-car garage, five bedrooms, three of which are en suite, a gourmet kitchen with a hidden pantry, and a patio area with a pool and outdoor kitchen with the biggest grill I’ve ever seen in my life.
This is like a freakin’ palace, but according to West, the difference in cost of living allowed him to buy something massive with the money he got from his house in L.A.
He told me he paid cash since he got so much more for his house in L.A. than what a house here cost.
I feel a moment of envy because I’ve never owned any type of real estate.
I played most of my career in the minors, until a bus accident during the playoffs afforded me the opportunity to get called up.
The team’s owner gave me a shot the following season and I almost fucked it up—but now I’m getting the chance to start fresh here in Atlanta.
New team. New teammates. A whole new city to warm up to and win over.
“You need anything?” West asks me, carrying a box toward the kitchen.
“I’m all set, just waiting for the furniture store to deliver my new bed and bedroom set.”
He grins. “Opted to keep moving simple?”
“I had the same bed for years. It was time for me to upgrade, be a damn grown-up.”
He nods, more serious now. “You played in the minors a long time—it makes sense that you’re buying things slowly and not rushing to blow every dime you make.”
“Yeah, that’s not a thing for me,” I say. “You know I had to raise my sister after our parents died, so I don’t know how to be anything but frugal. I did buy that very expensive SUV I drive, though.”
“Everyone needs a good, reliable vehicle,” he responds.
“Of course, reliability isn’t why I just bought a fucking Ferrari.
” He grins again, but somehow, it doesn’t meet his eyes.
I want to ask what that’s about but we’re interrupted as our other roommate, the team’s new starting Russian goalie, Viktor Maslak, comes in.
He was picked up from the Alaska Blizzard, and he’s another guy that doesn’t talk much.
“Do we have the parking assigned?” he asks in his stilted English.
“Nah.” West shakes his head. “I’m keeping the Ferrari in the garage and I’ll park my SUV behind it outside. The rest of you can decide which spot you want.”
“My SUV’s in the spot against the wall,” I say, “but I can move it if you feel strongly about it.”
Viktor shrugs. “Is okay. I park anywhere.” He turns and walks in the opposite direction.
I chuckle. “A man of few words.”
“He’s a good guy,” West says. “We roomed together at an international tournament a few years back and I like him. Believe me, I plan to be extremely careful who I invite to live here. No assholes are going to reside in my house.”
“And you invited me?” I say, laughing.
“Don’t make me kick your ass out.” He’s kidding but the glimmer in his eyes tells me he wouldn’t hesitate to do just that.
“Yeah, yeah. I just hope I don’t have to move again in a year. This is my second time in twelve months—I’d like to stay somewhere for a while.”
“I was with the Vipers my entire pro career,” West says carefully, like there’s a story there. “It was time for a change.”
“You weren’t happy with the Vipers?”
He’s quiet for a beat. “I was happy on the team, but I needed a fresh start some place far from L.A. Bad breakup.”
I grimace. “Yeah, that always sucks.”
He shrugs. “Eh, I’m over it.”
The look on his face tells me he’s not but we’re not close enough for me to comment. However, this is the perfect opening to segue into something else.
“Speaking of women—I met someone yesterday. Get this, we got stuck in an elevator at the DDS.”
“What?” He stares. “For real?”
I tell him the basics.
“You gonna take her out?”
“She’s nice.” I shrug playfully. “I told her I’d call her. Besides, it can’t hurt to get a library card.”
He chuckles. “I guess not.”
“You could come with me—maybe she has hot coworkers.”
“Hot librarians?” He grimaces. “I don’t think so, but I’ll be your wingman.”
“Excellent.” I clap him on the shoulder. “So—who else is moving in?”
“I’m not sure. Simon Lacroix is interested, he’s in the middle of a divorce, so he needs to take care of things before he makes solo arrangements.” He pauses. “And if he doesn’t take it, Coach Morrison mentioned us taking in the rookie.”
I groan.
Rookies tend to be anywhere from eighteen to twenty, and for their first season in the big leagues, the coaches like to have them live with older guys on the team.
Usually veterans who are married, guys who can show them the ropes and help them settle in without excessive partying or other distractions.
There’s a lot of money, pressure, and notoriety that can be overwhelming to a teenager, no matter how talented he is on the ice, so it’s a good thing.
But living with a group of seasoned bachelors might not be the best place for a kid like that.
“Coach realizes we’re single and probably going to be…living it up, right?” I ask.
“I mentioned that but he didn’t seem concerned. So far, none of the married guys are settled here, and a lot of them aren’t moving their families yet. He thinks we’re his best shot at taking someone in.”
“What do you think?”
He shrugs. “I think I’m too old to be a babysitter and too young to be a good influence on anyone.”
Our eyes meet and we both chuckle.
“But Coach was insistent. Luckily, I’d already talked to Simon so I told Coach I’d keep him posted.”
“We have a fifth bedroom,” I suggest mildly.
“I’m trying to leave one room as a guest room. My family likes to fly out for games. And as long as we communicate who’s going to be here when, you’re all welcome to invite family as well.”
“Good to know,” I say, nodding.
“All right, I’m going to start setting up the kitchen.”
“The kitchen?” I ask, following him curiously.
He glances over his shoulder. “I forget you don’t know me that well, and I like to cook. I do it often so be prepared.”
“You cook?” I gape at him. “You sure you don’t want more rent?”
He just laughs. “Don’t worry—you’ll be contributing to groceries.”
For the first time since I was officially notified I was moving to Atlanta, I start to feel like it was the right move.