Kickin’ It

by Van Dyken, Rachel

  Parker’s eyes widened before she gave me a barely noticeable nod. “Sorry, I get it. We’ll keep it professional. I can do it. Whatever you need me to do, I can do.”

  She just had to lick her damn lips, didn’t she?

  And they just had to look plump, swollen.

  More visions of her naked flitted across my brain.

  This was going to be the hardest three months of my life in more ways than one.

  “Great.” I clasped my hands together. “Now that we have that all out of the way, I’m going to make some calls to a few different teams, send out some feelers. In the meantime, I want Willow to sell the shit out of you. Tell her your stats, awards, accomplishments. I want everything. If you saved a kitten from a fire when you were six, I need to know about it. Won a spelling bee when you were eight. Hell, if you played multiple sports and got something more than a participation trophy, I need it. I’ll also need your transcripts from college, background information, family information, and we’ll need to do a full physical.”

  She paled.

  “Parker?” I snapped my fingers in front of her. “You got all that?”

  She nodded slowly. “Yes, I just . . . yes. I don’t like . . .” She looked down at her feet; but right before she did I caught something like vulnerability and maybe even a flash of pain in her eyes. “Can I please just request a female doctor?”

  I made an annoyed sound. I wouldn’t let a male doctor near her, not after all of the shit going down in the sports world surrounding male doctors treating female athletes. “Absolutely.”

  She exhaled. “Okay, good, thank you. That would be . . . thank you.”

  Willow gave her a curious look.

  I felt like I was missing something until Parker grinned over at Willow and said, “Remember Dr. Lee from sophomore year?”

  Willow pressed a hand to her heart. “So gorgeous! I swear I tried to sprain my ankle on a daily basis just so he would say in that accent of his, ‘You’re benched!’”

  “I would have gone to his bench any day.” Parker laughed.

  “You were too good a player.” Willow winked. “Even with a sprained ankle.”

  “As much as I love this journey down memory lane,” I said as I grabbed my cell from the counter, “I’m going to be in my office working.”

  Willow pouted. “Do I get an office?”

  “Intern.” I grinned. “Say it with me, inter—”

  She grabbed a pillow and waved it high in the air like she was going to chuck it at my face or maybe even try for my balls.

  I smirked. “You can work in the living room or theater room. It’s nice. You can even set up camp outside, grab your laptop, and get to work. No more talking about the past. We need to focus on Parker’s future. And, Willow? That’s your job. Don’t fail her. I don’t have to remind you that representing friends and family never ends well, which means you’ve got your job cut out for you.”

  “Good thing we aren’t friends,” Parker piped up, her venom directed at me. And all I could conjure up was an image of us being anything but friendly in the shower.

  And me pulling her hair.

  Running my hands over—

  I locked eyes with her and whispered gruffly, “Good thing.”

  Chapter Eight

  PARKER

  I nervously tucked my feet under my body while Willow’s fingers flew across the keyboard. For some reason the tap, tap, tap of her nails had me cringing the longer we sat there.

  It had been a painful three hours.

  Three hours where I did nothing but talk about myself while Willow did the appropriate uh-huhs and then the tap, tap, tap.

  I dug my hands into the throw pillow, ready to toss it across the room.

  I wasn’t meant to be indoors.

  Sitting.

  My legs itched to run.

  My body pulsed with the need to just be outside and do something active. Nervous energy pounded through me until it was so hard to concentrate that I wanted to scream.

  “Okay, let’s talk about this last year.” Willow sighed. “I think I have most of the information I need, since we were practically sleeping in the same bed every night.”

  I gave her an annoyed look. “You said you’d replace your bed then kept forgetting. You’re lucky it wasn’t a twin.”

  “It was more comfortable than mine would have been.”

  I sighed. “Admit it, you’re afraid of the dark.”

  She just grinned at her screen. “I admit nothing. Okay, so this last season you won MVP then had the title stripped after . . .” She cleared her throat like she wasn’t sure what else to say.

  And she’d be right about that.

  After I punched my coach.

  After I ruined my life.

  After I said no.

  I hugged my chest and shook my head at the ground like it held all the answers along with all the memories of him, the moments leading up to life-changing circumstances that should have made me a hero instead of a villain.

  “Can we take a break?” I croaked, already standing and tugging my ponytail out and messing up my hair. My head ached from stress, not the tight ponytail, but my heart and my suddenly nauseated stomach were having none of it.

  “Sure!” she chirped, jumping to her feet and slamming the laptop closed. Her loose hair fell in waves around her bronze shoulders and a shot of envy ran through my body at how easy she always seemed to make things . . . as if the world was at her feet. When for the last few years, it had deemed me unworthy and decided to sit on my face instead.

  My eyes flickered to the sliding glass door that overlooked the gorgeous view of the Sound. The water looked so peaceful I actually felt better; then again, if I had a multimillion-dollar view to look at every day, I imagined I’d feel a lot less anxiety. With a smile tugging at my lips, I realized that it had been forever since I’d taken the time to focus on and appreciate the beauty around me. I’d been so hell-bent on hiding that it never occurred to me to stop and take a deep breath. Lately everything had felt like an uphill battle, like the world was against me—until now.

  I opened the door and walked out, leaning my forearms on the wood railing just as I heard the sound of cursing followed by a door opening.

  I jumped back when Matt stomped out of his office a floor just above and to the right, its balcony overlooking the same spot just a few feet away. I could probably make the jump if I tried. I was about to say hi when he started yelling again.

  “No shit.” He ran a hand through his perfectly mussed hair and then looked up at the sky, squinting his eyes. “I know, I know, that’s just not what I wanted to hear, Darius.”

  He adjusted his Bluetooth headset.

  Mouth dry, I watched him stretch his arms over his head, giving me a perfect view up his shirt of his lower abs. Damn, the man was cut.

  I shook the thought from my head.

  Sexy bodies didn’t always equal good hearts. I found that out the hard way. Just because the package is wrapped up in tight muscles that make your mouth go dry does not mean that there isn’t ugly beneath the surface.

  Or something terrifying.

  In fact, it almost made me more nauseated to think about it. To think about how easy it was to fall for someone’s camera-ready looks, white teeth, bronzed skin, and perfect smile.

  So damn easy to fall in love with a public persona not realizing that behind closed doors they were a different person entirely. Plus . . . guys his age—not that he was ready to sign up for the early-bird special—typically wanted more than a girl who was all about sports, all about focus and drive.

  They wanted a wife.

  Not a co-captain.

  A girlfriend who could take care of them.

  Not an athlete who would rather wear cleats to dinner and hated the idea of anything pink.

  “Darius.” Matt’s tone changed. “All I’m saying is you owe me a favor, and because nobody else will even touch this girl—” He sighed. “Look, I’m desperate. I have
to get her another interview and tryout with at least one club.” Matt leaned against the railing. “She’s not that bad.” His face said I was actually that bad, and for some reason it hurt more than it should.

  I felt myself start to become smaller, the way some people do when they don’t want to be noticed, and I hated it. I hated it so much. That was part of what made me angry and always ready to lash out.

  Because I had never been that girl before last year.

  I once believed I was born to be brave and free.

  I once believed I was born of fire.

  And all it took was one person to steal that fire and leave me with nothing but ash.

  I drew in a deep breath and decided to let him have his privacy. I knew I couldn’t take it personally. To a lot of people I was that emotionally unhinged girl who attacked her coach on national TV, not exactly what you want on your team.

  I wasn’t sure what I was thinking in coming here.

  That he’d be able to perform a miracle?

  Defeat slammed down so hard that my shoulders ached.

  “The stats prove it. Let me just work on the rest of the package.” Matt’s voice hit me just as I touched the sliding glass door. His laughter sounded a bit cruel. “I know, I know, but we can’t all be my sister, alright?”

  I flinched.

  “She just needs a little bit of polishing.” Another laugh. “Yeah, maybe some anger management, or at least a tip on how to bring in sponsorships that don’t reference dog food, am I right?”

  He laughed harder.

  Anger and sadness fought each other as I clutched the door handle, unable to let go as his voice floated over the pounding of my pissed-off heart.

  “Thanks, Darius. Tell the wife I said hello!” Another hard laugh. “No, no, I promise she’ll be every bit as good as the hype.” When he hung up, I didn’t miss the way he uttered, “At least I hope.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn’t look at him and couldn’t trust myself not to either cry or jump to his balcony and hold his body over the edge with a cruel smile on my face, all the while asking him what animal I looked like in that moment before I ripped his pretty smile off.

  Maybe that was a little harsh.

  Maybe the anger-management comment wasn’t far from the mark.

  “What team?” I finally found my voice.

  “Damn it!” He didn’t hide his irritation. I heard stomping, didn’t see it, my eyes still closed and all that. “What the hell are you doing outside my office?”

  “I was outside the living room, big difference, and I was taking in some fresh air.” I finally turned and opened my eyes. “What team?”

  “How much did you hear?” His eyes flickered from the door to my face. I couldn’t get a read on anything except that his posture was tense and his face looked anything but apologetic from the strong line of his jaw to the eyes that seemed to look past my soul toward something darker, something locked up forever.

  He was the sort of man that wanted to see a person’s heart, understand how it worked, and ask you to trust him.

  But he wasn’t the sort of man a woman trusted.

  He was just like everyone else.

  A chameleon.

  He was who he needed to be when he needed to be it.

  And in that moment, I hated him more than I should.

  “What. Team?” I finally hissed out a third time.

  “Seattle Reign.” He grinned like I should be happy, when all I felt was despair that the one team I’d really wanted needed to be bribed. “Wow, no ‘Thank you, Matt’? ‘You’re the best agent in the world because you got me a tryout with the Reign’? Everyone’s first choice right now? What an incredible opportunity to not fuck something up.”

  “He owed you a favor,” I said lamely, voice hoarse. Was I really that bad?

  “Doesn’t matter,” he clipped harshly. “What matters is—” He frowned. “What matters is you need to stop wearing your ponytails so tight, it makes you look angry all the time, and if you don’t stop scowling at me I’m going to force Willow to go show you a true Botox experience.”

  “Why use her when I could just ask you?” I answered sweetly.

  He glared. “Everything you see is real, Cheetah Girl.”

  I gawked. “Who told you?”

  “Willow did a very extensive report, at least the early report she sent before I got on that last phone call was”—he smirked—“enlightening.”

  Heat rushed into my cheeks while my brain basically screamed, Upper hand, get it back, fast! He’s your opponent, don’t give him the damn ball! Steal it back!

  But I had nothing except, “At least I was good enough to get a nickname.”

  He stopped smiling immediately. “Low blow for someone who holds your future in his hands, don’t you think?”

  “I’ve heard that before.” It was out before I could stop myself.

  Confusion marred his face. “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing.” I cleared my throat. Just then, I was saved by the doorbell. “I got it!”

  Thankfully, the sliding glass door was already open. Otherwise, I would have face-planted right in front of Matt, and every bird in the vicinity would have had a good laugh.

  Willow was already opening the door.

  And in walked Jagger with his swagger. I couldn’t help but grin as he winked at me and then reached for Willow’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Damn, you’re pretty.”

  I made a gagging noise just in time for Matt to walk in with thunder in his steps and murder in his eyes. “Just tell me you aren’t going to prison with your grandma, and I’ll forget the fact that you just kissed my sister’s hand!”

  “Not joining Grandma, but I can hold out hope.” He laughed. “I was just in the neighborhood, so . . .”

  Matt looked at Jagger then at me, then back at Jagger. “Too bad you’re leaving the neighborhood. You got your gear at the stadium?”

  Jagger gave Willow an apologetic look when Matt turned around to grab a water. “Sure do.”

  “Road trip.” He nodded to me. “Get your shit, Cheetah Girl, practice starts this afternoon.”

  “Wait.” I held up my hand. “Practice? What do you mean practice?”

  “I mean”—Matt was already walking down the hall and yelling over his shoulder—“that you have to impress the team at your tryout, and the only way you’re going to do it is if you have the best in the world training you.”

  Made sense. “So, Jagger’s just going to train me out of the joy of his very Russian heart?”

  Jagger put his hand over his chest and nodded solemnly.

  “Nope!”

  “What?” We said in unison, Willow included.

  “I said the best.” Matt stopped and didn’t turn around. “Which means I’m training you while you kick as many balls as you can at Jagger’s face.”

  I snorted out a laugh while Jagger glared. “Bring your cup.”

  He eyed me up and down. “Think I’ll wear two.”

  “Good man.” Willow elbowed him a bit while Matt disappeared around the corner.

  I was too focused on Willow and Jagger, all of a sudden whispering under their breath, to realize it too late.

  Until I heard cleats on the slate floor.

  Until I felt a sickness rush over my body.

  Matt, older Matt, didn’t just become my agent.

  He was in joggers and a white vintage shirt with some sort of soccer graphic on the front.

  No. Because an agent I could handle.

  An agent meant that it was all business.

  But he’d just made it personal . . .

  By stepping into a position of a mentor, someone I would need to respect, to look up to in order to learn from.

  And history suddenly felt very much like it was repeating itself as he tied his cleats and looked at me with a dangerous amount of heat that shot straight through my body.

  “What?” He jerked his head up at me and smirked. “Intimidated?” />
  “Yeah,” I croaked then swallowed back my emotions. “Something like that.” I tucked my hair behind my ears as the sting of tears made itself known. “Let me just go grab my gear.”

  He stood and crossed his arms. “You have three minutes.”

  He didn’t see my tear-stained cheeks. I wiped them as soon as the tears fell, catching a few between my fingertips before they even touched my skin.

  He didn’t see my bloodshot eyes. I grabbed sunglasses for that.

  And he didn’t see the way my heart shook in my chest at the thought of training one-on-one.

  With another man.

  An older man.

  An experienced man.

  A man not used to the word no.

  Chapter Nine

  MATT

  I wasn’t sure what possessed me to offer to train Parker other than my severe lack of tact when it came to the conversation she overheard. Why the hell should I feel guilty for doing my job? And for saying or doing anything to get her what she wanted while at the same time getting what I wanted, which was her and my sister out of my space?

  She’d been there two days and she was everywhere.

  Taking over everything.

  The most annoying thing being all the rational space in my head.

  Off-limits.

  In every way.

  Not to mention she tended to apparently hate the male race, if what I read in every newspaper report was accurate, not to mention the reports from two of the other team captains and the coach himself.

  He sounded like an arrogant piece of work.

  But every single female on that team looked at him like a soccer god. He was a good-looking European dumbass who I remembered playing maybe once or twice before we both left the league for our own reasons.

  Mine was my injury and inability to come back from it, even with the right drugs.

  And his?

  At this point it looked like the general consensus of his teammates was that he was a selfish asshole who wanted all the glory in a team sport that needed every single player for every single goal.

  I had no space for assholes in my life.

  I already had my clients.