Kickin’ It

by Van Dyken, Rachel

  “I know my brother, and I know you. Both so stubborn it’s ridiculous but the best people I’ve ever known.” More typing and clicking filled the room. She was working really hard for a Saturday. “Besides, I wasn’t even sure it would work. It was hard enough lying about the hotel and pretending that I didn’t notice all his lingering glances at your ass.”

  “I didn’t linger on her ass,” Matt said, sweeping into the room. Dark skinny jeans hugged his legs, perfectly complementing his brown boots and a tight green vintage tee that made him look like he was ready to go on tour somewhere.

  I let out a girly sigh when he smiled my way, his glossy blond hair was seriously too thick and pretty. It wasn’t fair.

  I mean I was the girl who carried Pringles in her hair.

  With the guy who could grace magazine covers and star in the next box-office blockbuster.

  “Any luck?” He pointed the question to Willow.

  “Nope.” She sighed. “But I’ll figure it out. Alright you two, just go have fun.”

  “We two?” I asked. “What are we two doing?”

  Matt grinned and reached for my hands, interlocking our fingers as he pulled me into his arms. “I know you’re stressed, I figured this would be the easiest way to get you to stop thinking.”

  “There’s a lot of ways to get me to stop thinking.”

  “Sitting right here,” Willow said in a singsong voice.

  I ignored her and focused on his perfect lips as he flashed me a million-dollar grin.

  “Dinner.”

  My stomach dropped. “Oh, so dinner as . . . agent and . . . gotcha. No, that would make sense, people wouldn’t speculate—”

  “Parker . . .”

  “Yeah?” I pasted a happy smile on my face.

  “We’ll have the whole restaurant to ourselves.”

  “People, they . . .” My smile was so wide it was almost embarrassing. “They do those things?”

  “My brother does those things. He has money to burn,” Willow piped up. “Why do you think I have a shoe obsession?”

  “What should I wear?” I bit down on my lip in excitement.

  “Nothing.” His first answer.

  Another gag from Willow.

  After a moment, he relented. “Just dress comfortable, alright? Nothing too fancy, I promise, just a nice dinner by the water . . .”

  “Water?” I sighed happily. “Give me ten minutes.”

  I was not five steps down the hall when Willow followed me, dragged me into one of the guest rooms, and shut the door. “You’re not wearing jeans.”

  “But—”

  “I did not work my ass off to get you guys together for you to go out on your first real date with my brother in jeans.”

  I pouted. “He said comfortable.”

  “He’s a guy, all he cares is if he can cop a feel later. You could wear a muumuu, and he’d be all, ‘Oh, Parker, you’re so beautiful, Parker, is that a chip in your hair, Parker? I love chips! Let’s have a billion babies.’”

  I gave her the finger.

  She waved me off and pulled something black from yet another shopping bag scattered around the house; she was like the Easter bunny of fashion and gifts. “You’ll wear this, with gold hoop earrings and my gold flats, and you’re going to put on some makeup, not a lot, just some.”

  Twenty, not ten, minutes later, I was standing in the living room in a chic black jumpsuit with a plunging neckline. My hair was half up, and I’d let Willow put enough makeup on me to bring out my brown eyes and my tan skin. The gloss she gave me tasted like coconut, so that was a win.

  “Here.” She thrust a Louis Vuitton clutch at me. “And don’t worry, I added condoms.”

  She just happened to say that when Matt walked in and nearly ran into a wall. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the condom comment or because of the way I was dressed. Maybe both?

  He cleared his throat.

  I smiled, took the purse, and when Willow wouldn’t let me go, I batted her away with said purse, grabbed my phone, and all but leaped into Matt’s arms.

  “You kids have fun!”

  “Bye, guys!” Jagger rounded the corner with a bottle of wine. He was still here? Had the guy even left?

  “Bastard better keep his hands to himself,” Matt grumbled.

  “I don’t think it’s his hands you’re worried about,” I said as I turned back to see Jagger devour Willow whole.

  Damn, talk about aggressive on and off the field.

  Maybe it was an athlete thing.

  “So, look.” I took a deep breath as we went outside, and Matt opened the car door for me. “I just—I wanted you to know that I would never trap a guy or lie to him. I’m on the pill, so—”

  “Parker.”

  “And I’m really sorry. I wasn’t thinking, I just . . . maybe that’s my immaturity or my inexperience speaking. I mean before you, there was, well, we talked about that and then one other guy I dated for like six months, and then—”

  “Parker.”

  “I don’t know, it didn’t even mean anything, we just got caught up and . . . oh God, now I sound like those commercials they make you watch in high school health class!” I pinched my nose and then chanced a look at a smirking Matt. “What? Why are you laughing?”

  “Because I was going to apologize to you. I saw your blood test, your entire physical, I know you’re on the pill, I know you’re clean. I honestly didn’t even think about it because I already knew, but you didn’t know that about me, so I’m the one who’s sorry. For the record, I haven’t been with anyone in over a year.”

  “One. Year?” Why did that make me so happy? “As in three hundred and sixty-five days?”

  “Yeah, let’s not yell it, though . . .” He started the car and backed out. “But I would like to talk about the fact that you were with what sounded like one boyfriend in college and then . . .”

  My stomach heaved. “Yeah.”

  “That should tell you one thing right there, Parker. It’s not like you were this experienced seductress out to make a name for yourself. You didn’t seduce him, you were afraid, he abused that power, that fear, and he was wrong, not you.”

  My throat closed up, tightened to a painful degree. “I just . . . I don’t want to talk about it, not here, not now.”

  “We have to talk about it sometime, Parker. We have to discuss what you want to do.”

  I jerked my head to attention. “What do you mean? I would never play for LA. And as for Erik . . .”

  “I know, which is why I called them this morning and said thanks but no thanks. That’s what I’m talking about.” He pulled onto the freeway toward downtown. “I just don’t think you’re ever going to have closure unless you come forward.”

  “No.” I crossed my arms. “What if nobody believes me? What if someone finds out about us and uses it as a way to prove that I sleep around for my career? You would be ruined, I’d be done for, and all because he’s a horrible human being!”

  Silence.

  I hated it when he was silent.

  Because it said more than words did, didn’t it?

  “You’re worth that risk to me, but you have to think about you right now, and know I am fully on board with Team Parker. I like her, I want her to succeed, I want her to have everything even if it means she doesn’t have me,” he finally said, putting his hand on my knee. “And you’re right. We won’t talk about it tonight. But the minute you make that Seattle team, I want to sit down with you and discuss it.”

  I wanted to shove his hand away and yell at him that I felt more for him than soccer . . . than anything. That nobody had ever loved me that much or even said words like that out loud. Tears filled my eyes; he was too much and yet everything I needed all at once.

  “How is this going to work? You just put on your agent hat and during meetings I can’t kiss you?”

  He let out a sigh. “I’m in the same boat you are, just living day by day and wondering if I’m doing the right thing, espe
cially since my heart keeps trying to speak before my head has a chance.”

  I smiled through my tears. “It’s going to be okay, though, right?”

  More silence, and then he picked up my hand and kissed the back of it. “I promise.”

  Why didn’t I believe him?

  And why did it seem like he didn’t even believe himself?

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  MATT

  She was distant all night.

  And I knew why.

  I just wished I knew how to fix it.

  We talked, we laughed, we did what we always did when we were together, which meant a lot of laughing, teasing, banter, but I could feel her pulling away, like she was already preparing herself for the worst.

  We were at one of my favorite restaurants on the pier, and since I knew the owner and paid him to close it down for two hours, he was more than happy to take my money and let us have our privacy. But the food felt heavy in my stomach.

  I poured her a small glass of wine, careful to monitor her alcohol, and then wanted to slap myself. At that moment . . .

  I wasn’t her dad.

  I wasn’t her coach.

  I wasn’t her agent.

  And yet I felt like I had to wear all those hats for her. It was confusing even for me, because I’d never crossed that professional line with anyone, and now I wasn’t sure how to proceed. How do you go from treating someone like a client to someone you could actually picture your life with?

  “I don’t want to lose you as a client,” I said once the dessert menus were brought to our table.

  Parker looked up, her eyes filled with sadness. “I don’t want that either.” Her smile fell. “Were you going to follow that up with a ‘but’?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I don’t like buts.”

  “I love yours, but I prefer the term ass,” I teased.

  Her mouth twitched like she wanted to laugh. Shit. She was sexy.

  “Look.” I leaned forward. “I like you, I care about you, and when you care about someone you want to take care of them. I just don’t know how to do that without ruining what we have. I don’t know how to be the bossy agent but also be your boyfriend.”

  Her eyes widened. “Is that what you want?”

  “To be your bossy agent and boyfriend?”

  She nodded.

  I exhaled slowly as I took in her pretty lips and the way her wide eyes locked onto every single movement I made. She was so pretty with her big, wide brown eyes. I just wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss her soundly, lie to her that it was all going to be fine, when the future was still so uncertain. “I want to be your boyfriend more.”

  Her smile was real then. “If I got to choose, I’d choose boyfriend too.”

  “So . . .” I reached my hand across the table. The candle flickered in the breeze from the ocean filtering through the window. “I’ll figure out what to do about our contract. I’ll find you someone that you can trust, someone that I can trust. How does that sound?”

  “Like they won’t take twenty percent?” she teased.

  I kissed the back of her hand. “Hilarious, and you know I wouldn’t even take a percentage from you, and that’s the problem . . . We made it personal and that’s not fair to either of us, it’s hard to figure out where agent-client begins and being lovers ends.”

  “I know. I hate that you’re right. But it feels like we’re breaking up.”

  It was my turn to laugh. “I’m glad you’re that emotionally attached to your agent.”

  Her voice lowered as she looked down at our joined hands. “Because he promised me everything—and he gave me more.”

  I was on her side of the table in seconds, my mouth caressing hers, her pliant lips opened to me as I slid my tongue past her lower lip, tasting the wine on her tongue and searching for more.

  “Dessert?” I asked once we broke apart.

  “Why yes, thank you for asking.” She tilted her head, flicked my tongue with hers, and moaned into my mouth like she was starving for me. I couldn’t get enough of her, of the way we fit together.

  The waiter cleared his throat. “Did you need more time?”

  “Dessert to go,” I said without looking at him. “Two chocolate soufflés.”

  Parker cleared her throat.

  “And vanilla ice cream,” I added with an eye roll.

  She grinned and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “It’s like you read my mind.”

  “Yeah, it had nothing to do with the fact that you were pointing at the menu and giving me a death glare.”

  “None at all!” She laughed and then sobered. “As long as we’re together, it’s going to be okay.”

  “Of course it will.” I kissed her again just as guests started filling the restaurant. The sadness on her face was like a kick to the gut.

  I didn’t want the secrecy any more than she did.

  And when people looked over at us, paranoia struck. Did they know who I was? Who she was? Did they see the slight age difference that resembled her and her coach? Did it matter? To me she looked like a girl in her midtwenties, and I’d like to think I looked the same age. My eyes darted left to right and back again as I tried to find a logical reason why it felt like we were being watched.

  “Here you go, Mr. Kingston.” The waiter handed me our dessert. “As always, thank you for visiting Elliot’s.”

  “Course.” I signed the bill and stood as Parker grabbed her purse. Her lips looked swollen, her hair tousled.

  I led her out of the restaurant, my hand on her lower back as we left through the front doors and walked slowly to my car.

  Parker gasped while I grabbed my key from my pocket.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  She pointed.

  My luxury Porsche had key scratches down the passenger side, and on the window in bold letters it read WHORE.

  “Come here.” I pulled Parker into my arms and then searched for my phone.

  “Willow,” I barked. “Send a car to the restaurant and get me the chief of police. My car’s been damaged, and it looks like someone is trying to send a threatening message.”

  Parker ducked her head against my chest. “You know the chief of police?”

  Her teeth were chattering. Damn it. She was trying to be strong, but she didn’t have to be anymore.

  Not now.

  “He’s a family friend,” was all I said, leaving out minor details such as the guy had been linked to the Italian mafia and had connections all over the world, mainly Sicily and Chicago. Whenever I asked him anything to do with his business dealings, he just gave me a blank stare and asked about soccer. Huge fan.

  Within five minutes, which seemed quick even for Chief Johnny Alfero, a black SUV pulled up, followed by two police cruisers.

  “Matt.” Johnny got out of the SUV and held out his hand. “I’m sorry to be seeing you under such odd circumstances. I did a little homework on the way over. We haven’t had reports of vandalism in the area and no record of any car burglaries in the past two weeks.”

  I sighed. “I think it’s personal.”

  His dark eyebrows arched as I nodded to Parker.

  “Personal,” he repeated. “In what way?”

  “Parker,” I urged. “You can trust him.”

  Her face paled as she swayed in my arms like her legs couldn’t hold her up anymore. “I can’t.”

  “Parker, this could be your life. We don’t know who did this, but it can’t be a coincidence. If it’s him . . .”

  “He lives in LA!” She jerked away from me. “I just want to go home.”

  “Parker—”

  “I need you to be my agent right now. I need you to be someone other than my caring boyfriend who wants me to tell a complete stranger about my past. Please.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Please.”

  My heart cracked at her expression. I hung my head. “Okay.”

  Johnny put his hand on my back. “Why don’t you take her home? I’ll call you if an
ything comes up. We already have a tow truck coming to take your car to one of the auto-body shops. I’ll text you the location?”

  “Great.”

  “And you . . .” He turned his massive six-foot-four frame toward Parker. His blue eyes were so bright it was rumored that his superpower was reflecting the ocean’s depths in them (that, according to Willow, was mainly from every female he encountered). “I want you to take my card.” He pulled it out. “If you need anything, you call this number. It’s private. And if you want to talk”—he nodded—“I can talk too. Sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone that isn’t friends or family. And if I need to bury a body”—he flashed a grin—“I know people.”

  She smiled.

  I didn’t.

  Guy wasn’t kidding.

  I shook his hand again. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He nodded seriously as if he really didn’t want us to mention it.

  The town car arrived about thirty seconds later. I helped Parker into the seat, buckled her in, and then pulled her to my side once the car was back on the freeway.

  Next to me, she stiffened.

  “You’re angry.” I hated the helplessness I felt in my gut. I’d missed all of the signs because my focus was on the psychopath who did this and not on her.

  “I told you I didn’t want to talk about it, and then you said we wouldn’t, and then that happens and . . .” She pulled away from me. “What part of ‘I don’t want to talk about it to anyone’ don’t you understand?”

  “I understand all of it,” I said, teeth clenched. “I understand that a crazy guy could be after you just because you made him look like an idiot. Yes, it could be coincidence, but I think both of us know it’s most likely not. It was on your side of the car, like someone was watching us. And it was my car! The fact that he’s been sending threatening letters, watching us, I don’t know . . .”

  Tears spilled over her cheeks. “I can’t talk about it right now. Let’s just . . .” She squeezed her eyes shut and reached for my hand. “Let me get through tryouts and then we can discuss it.”

  I kissed her fingertips. “Okay.”

  She sighed against my chest.

  And a part of my heart righted itself again.

  Until we pulled up to my house.