Kickin’ It

by Van Dyken, Rachel

  I narrowed my eyes as a hairbrush with exactly three dark hairs stuck in it sat alarmingly close to the toothbrush. She was a monster! A savage! Who put hair that close to something that goes inside your mouth? Just the thought had me shuddering as I turned off the light and closed the door behind me.

  “Oomph!” Parker stumbled against me. I caught her by the biceps. And then was completely caught off guard that she actually had them.

  Slightly firm in all the right places, yet completely soft.

  Her brown eyes had speckles of gold near the center, and I imagined that on any given day they could change color depending on her mood. Her strong jawline made her look like a tomboy, but part of me wondered if it was because of the way she wore her hair. Tight ponytails and not a stitch of makeup. Like attracting someone of the opposite sex was the furthest thing from her mind.

  She jerked away from me as though I was the offending party.

  When she’d done nothing but insult me since she arrived at my house.

  “Your hairbrush is scary close to your toothbrush, just thought you should . . . know.” Fuck me, did I really just warn her about hair? What the hell was wrong with me?

  I mentally slapped myself while she narrowed her eyes at me then back at the closed door. “You think you’re going to be able to sleep tonight knowing how close together they are, or should you watch me move them farther apart? I don’t want to cause any more gray hair.” Her eyes moved to the side of my head like she was fixated on at least a million gray hairs shining in all their glory telling her that I was thirty going on thirty-one with no girlfriend and an empty future filled with lonely nights and a room full of rescue kittens.

  “I don’t have gray hair,” I snapped.

  Her eyes fell to the side of my head, and her eyebrows rose. “If you say so.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Parker let out a sigh that was cuter than it should have been. It also made her look less harsh, like she had a side that was all soft curves and laughter. “It means everyone gets old, you should embrace the gray.”

  “But—”

  “I need to use the bathroom.” She sidestepped me and put her hand on the doorknob. “But thanks for the warning. I’ll be sure to manage my bathroom tools more effectively, especially since I know they’ll be inspected every night before bed.” With a sarcastic wink, she was inside and the door was shut in my face.

  I gasped.

  Raised my hand to knock again then turned on my heel. “What the hell?”

  “You look lost.” Willow laughed as she made her way down the hall in short shorts and a crop top that looked like it belonged to a toddler. Why was she back in the main house? I gave her space so I could still hold onto some of my manhood and dignity in my own home! So far it wasn’t working, was it?

  “Let me guess, these are your pajamas now?” I pointed at her and shook my head. “Thought we talked about this.”

  She sighed and hung her head then put her hands on my shoulders. “Matt, I appreciate the concern, but I’m a grown adult. Nobody is going to see me in these but me, m’kay? Plus, you really aren’t my dad even though we both know you’ve been more of a dad than a brother.”

  My throat closed up as it always did when we talked about Dad. The usual anger boiled to the surface. I slammed it down and pulled her in for a hug. “I’m your older brother. It’s my job to worry.” Our parents had never truly been involved in our lives and had died when I was in high school and Willow was in junior high. They used money and gifts instead of hugs and words of affirmation. We were like little trophy kids you tell your friends about but don’t manage to take care of. Willow and I only had each other. Sink or swim, we did it together. Always.

  “Hah.” She pinched my side and pulled back. “And as your younger sister and only sister, it’s my job to worry about you too. You’re thirty.”

  “Why does everyone keep reminding me of my age?” I wondered out loud, suddenly irritated with myself because it made me think of other things I didn’t have yet. Success was easy. But I had nobody to share it with. It never bothered me before. I never thought twice about it.

  Maybe it was because Slade had settled down, fallen in love with his other half, and a part of me wanted that sort of passion.

  Or maybe I was just feeling sorry for myself because I had two college graduates putting their toothbrushes all over the place!

  Yeah, I was going to go with that.

  “Because,” she said in a sweet voice as she gripped my hands and squeezed, “you should be settling down and getting married. I mean look at Slade.”

  I did a double take. Had I said any of that out loud?

  “Man, look at you!” She slugged me in the shoulder. “You look like I just told you to take up synchronized swimming!”

  “Do not,” I argued.

  “Your eyes bugged out of your head like you needed an oxygen mask. So yeah, good to know that fear of commitment is still strong in you.”

  I scowled. “It’s not that. Trust me, you’re not even close.”

  She nodded slowly and then took a seat on the couch, pulling a blanket over her lap. “I see, so when was your last serious relationship?”

  I opened my mouth but she held out her hand to stop me.

  “With a female who wasn’t your client,” she added with a knowing grin.

  I swallowed and then shrugged. “I date some.”

  “Define ‘some.’”

  “I’ve gone on a few dates.” Lame. How many dates that weren’t business dates, though? Or networking dates? Or meetings?

  I tugged at my shirt and licked my lips.

  “Yeah, okay, I’m setting you up.”

  “The hell you will!” I roared.

  “Do you want to die alone?” she countered.

  “Seriously? You come into my house, eat my food, beg for me to give you a job, and after one day I’m suddenly dying alone?”

  “At least you don’t have cats . . . yet.” She winked.

  I just rolled my eyes. “Stay out of my love life, Willow.”

  “Or lack thereof!” She cackled as I paced in front of her, then I grabbed a throw pillow and flung it in her general direction as hard as I could.

  “I’m happy.” I spread my arms wide. “I party with celebrities and athletes on a daily basis. I get to summer in the Hamptons—”

  She made a gagging motion.

  I glared. “The right girl will come along. I’m just . . . patient, not because I’m lonely but because I’m happy.”

  “You’re patient because you’re . . . happy?” She narrowed her eyes just as Parker walked into the living room and took a seat next to her.

  Surrounded by ovaries, wasn’t I?

  “He’s happy?” Parker just had to ask in that snarky little voice with her hair—I gulped and did a double take.

  Out. Of. The. Ponytail.

  My eyes burned as I watched her sigh and then pull her hair around her neck and inspect it for what I could only assume was split ends.

  Even that seemed sexy.

  She had shots of caramel and red in her auburn hair, how had I not noticed that?

  Or the thick, natural waves that fell past her breasts.

  Shit, now I was noticing her breasts.

  Does no one wear a bra anymore?

  “No,” Parker said drily. “Burned those during the parade, right, Willow?”

  Must have said that out loud. I grimaced. “And to answer your question,”—I addressed her with a sternness that reminded me of my father and made me simultaneously want to strangle myself—“yes, I’m happy.”

  “Are you really happy if you have to convince others that you’re happy?” She tilted her head, dropped her hair against her chest, and crossed her arms.

  “Sleep.” I shook my head. “I need to sleep. Try not to stay up too late.”

  Fuck. It was out before I could stop it.

  Try not to stay up too late?

  I he
sitated, waiting for a rebuttal.

  But both girls just shared a smile.

  I glanced one last time at her hair, at her smile, at the easy way she talked with Willow like she didn’t need a wall to protect her.

  And then I shook my head as I walked back toward the master bedroom and stared at myself in the mirror.

  I was happy.

  Wasn’t I?

  I had everything a man could want.

  Everything.

  Then why did I feel defeated?

  Chapter Six

  PARKER

  I was so nervous I couldn’t sleep.

  He said Willow would draw up my contract in the morning. My contract. Between Matt Kingston and me.

  Matt. Kingston.

  The same Matt Kingston whose eyes I couldn’t look away from last night. The guy who oozed sexuality like it was an extension of his expensive cologne. The guy that I caught staring at me with such heat I pretended to be staring at the tips of my hair. Since when have I ever cared about my hair?

  He was rude.

  Often irritated, if I was to judge him based on the last twenty-four hours.

  But he was also something else.

  Really damn good-looking.

  And rich.

  And successful.

  And one of the best agents, if not the best, in the sports world.

  I squeezed my eyes shut as my heart thudded against my chest. I had to be up in a half hour if I was going to get a run in before breakfast.

  Willow usually slept in until nine.

  I wasn’t sure what Matt’s schedule was, and I berated myself when I realized I wanted to know if he got up early and worked out. If he still missed the game, hungered for it in the way I would every day of my life if I didn’t get signed to a team.

  And fast.

  I groaned into my pillow and hit my hands against the mattress.

  Too many uncertainties.

  Yet another man who held my future in his hands.

  Focus.

  What was I good at?

  Running plays, loving the game with all my heart, and getting into fights when people got in my way.

  Well, that and attracting all the wrong sorts of attention.

  How the hell was I supposed to get on a team when I couldn’t even manage to make it through a dinner without wanting to either lash out or pass out on the spot from an anxiety attack?

  I threw the covers off, grabbed my Nikes and some running shorts, and pulled on a baby-blue sports bra. My AirPods were waiting on the nightstand, and my phone was already in my hand ready to go when I started the music.

  I sucked in a breath through my nose, exhaled, and then nodded my head to the beat as my feet took me out of the guest room, down the hall, and out the door.

  Just me and the road.

  Freedom.

  My feet pounded the pavement as my breathing quickened. This was what I needed, an escape, a bit of suffering to remind myself why I was putting myself at Matt’s mercy.

  I focused on the job.

  On my game.

  On my breathing.

  On everything but the fact that his eyes haunted me with each step, just like his smug smirk over dinner and his disdain at being forced to work with me.

  I stopped and shook my head as Post Malone’s latest pounded in my eardrums.

  It didn’t matter.

  None of it did.

  Because I wouldn’t quit.

  Ever.

  I was going to make it.

  Or die trying.

  I kept running with a smile on my face.

  Make the world your oyster.

  And if that doesn’t work?

  Make it your bitch.

  An hour later, I stumbled into the house, sweaty and ready to eat anything and everything including the first human who spoke to me. My stomach grumbled as I pulled out my pods and set them on the counter along with my phone. Frowning, I glanced around the dark house.

  Did Matt sleep in?

  Was he a night owl?

  My jaw clenched.

  Did it matter what he did with his time?

  I gave my head a shake and made my way toward the bathroom. I was in the process of peeling off my sweaty bra just as I pushed open the door and looked in the shower.

  The shower that was on.

  In the bathroom that was occupied.

  Please let it be Willow. Please let it be Willow.

  Why the heck wasn’t the door locked?

  Slowly, I backed away and was halfway out the door when the shower door opened and out stepped Matt in all his naked, tanned glory.

  I took another step backward.

  “Morning, Parker!” Willow chirped, making her way down the hall with a cup of coffee in hand as she headed back out to the pool house, oblivious to my red face and the fact that I was halfway in the bathroom with her naked and, by the looks of it, pissed-off brother.

  I gulped. “Sorry, I didn’t—the door wasn’t locked, and I was—”

  Matt’s eyes heated.

  And that’s when I realized I was holding my bra in my hands.

  I was topless.

  A good way, some might say the best way, to start a business relationship. Hah. I winced and then tried covering my breasts with the black scraps, only to do it upside down and just show him more nipple.

  His jaw clenched.

  I stepped back. “Really, just . . . really sorry.”

  At least his towel had made it around his hips.

  “Shut the door,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Yup!” I moved back and slammed it closed and stared at it a few seconds while my breathing evened.

  Something hit a wall. I exhaled roughly and tiptoed back into my room, then waited in a weird tense silence for footsteps down the hall. He passed my room without looking in.

  I hated that it bothered me.

  That after seeing nipple he wouldn’t even really acknowledge that said nipples belonged to me.

  Why did it even matter?

  I grabbed my things and dashed back into the bathroom. I turned the shower on just in time to peel my sweaty shorts down and bare my ass toward the very door that then swung open, revealing Matt.

  He just stood there.

  My heart slammed against my ribs. No . . . it’s not like before.

  “What are you doing!” I yelled when I found my words. A navy-blue bath towel hung from the rack a few feet away. I glanced at it but forced myself to meet his gaze, to keep his eyes locked on mine. Not the same, not the same. Don’t back down. Never back down again.

  He held up one finger, two fingers, three, and then he tilted his head and grinned smugly. “The amount of seconds you stared before shutting the door. Feels invasive, right?”

  “It wasn’t locked!” I said for the second time, my voice wavering.

  He rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t lock.”

  “Why are you still standing there?” Unable to stop myself, I snatched the towel and covered myself.

  He grinned. “Tit for tat.”

  “Leave!” I ground out.

  “Leaving.” And then he turned one last time. “Walk in on me again, and I’m brushing my teeth while you pee, got it?”

  Anger rose, threatened to take over the situation, but I pushed it back with sarcasm. “Wow, living dangerously now, hmm?” My hairbrush was on the floor next to the wall. Ah, that was the object he threw. “Oh, and I’ll be sure to put my brush away next time.”

  “See? All I ask for is a bit of compromise,” he said before slamming the door so hard it caused one of the picture frames above the toilet to fall to the floor.

  I gave two middle-finger salutes to the door and then jumped in the shower. It wasn’t lost on me that my skin was flushed.

  It also wasn’t lost on me that the hot water had nothing to do with it.

  Because the bastard had used it all!

  “Matt!” I roared as my teeth chattered. It was going to be impossible to rinse the s
hampoo out of my hair. “Bastard!” I cursed him to hell and could have sworn I heard laughter down the hallway.

  Chapter Seven

  MATT

  Everywhere I looked I saw nipples.

  Skin.

  A lot of skin.

  Ass cheeks.

  More skin.

  I slammed my orange juice down onto the counter and wheeled around when I heard Willow and Parker make their way into the kitchen.

  “You!” I pointed at Parker. “If you want to work with me, could you please stop walking in on me while I shower?”

  “You,” she countered, hands on hips, “could have been a gentleman and not used all the hot water or walked in on me to make a point!”

  Willow gave me a confused look. “I miss all the good stuff by being stuck in the pool house!”

  Parker’s chest heaved, she crossed her arms over breasts I would never forget—ever—while I seethed and looked in the other direction. “Let’s get one thing straight. I’m going to be your agent, not your friend, not your boyfriend, not the guy you lived with for three months. Agent.” I said it slowly so she’d get the picture. “This means you walk around with clothes on. This means you don’t peel off said clothes before you reach the bathroom. It means we have a professional line we don’t ever cross. Ever.” I gulped as my brain repeated a few more evers for good measure then flashed me an image of her tits again.

  Shit.

  I flinched at the need to rub my eyes to see if it would do the trick, as if I could just rub the nipples away.

  “I don’t date older men,” she said in a low, semiaggressive tone that had my dick twitching behind my fly like it was excited at the thought of getting attacked by the person the voice belonged to.

  “The hell?” I craned my neck at her. “Did you just call me old? Again? In my own house?”

  “Sore spot,” Willow coughed and then pounded her chest.

  “We aren’t doing whatever this is, where you can’t help but have the last word, bait me, then make both of us look like asses.”

  “Both?” Parker said, questions lingering behind her eyes. “We sure about this both thing?”

  My jaw clenched.

  “His neck vein is throbbing,” Willow said in a hushed whisper as she drummed her fingernails across the granite counter. “I would tread carefully.”