Kickin’ It

by Van Dyken, Rachel

  Parker chuckled. “It’s your job to be protective, that’s what big brothers do. If you didn’t try to physically harm her boyfriend I’d lose respect for you.”

  “Try telling her that.”

  “Trust me,” she said in a low whisper. “She knows.”

  “And who protects you?” I wondered out loud before feeling like an ass for even saying it.

  “Me. At least I try.” Her voice was sad. “Not always successfully.” She seemed to crawl into herself as she spoke. “My dad isn’t really a huge supporter of my soccer career. We aren’t close, at all. I think he forgets he even has a kid.”

  “Well, I have an opening, you know . . .” I joked and then backpedaled. “I mean not to be your dad, but to protect you, not like a brother . . .” Shit.

  She didn’t laugh.

  “Parker?”

  The fog cleared and then she was in front of me, hands on hips. “I’m not your sister, Matt.”

  “Fuck.” I wiped my forehead. “Trust me, I know that.”

  “I don’t want that sort of protection. Besides, if you’re doing all the protecting, who’s going to protect me from you?”

  Called on my bullshit, I just stared her down. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “That”—she threw her hands in the air—“that wasn’t an accusation! I just, I don’t want you that way, I don’t need a brother . . .”

  Our eyes searched each other. “I don’t think I can be anything else.”

  She backed away slowly.

  “Parker . . .” I reached for her.

  “No. It’s fine. I get it . . .”

  “You don’t fucking get it,” I said in a low voice and then stood. “I can’t be anything to you, that’s the truth. I respect you, I respect us. We have something here, I know it, you know it. I’m so damn proud of you and the strength that you have, how could I not want that? Don’t you think I want more? Don’t you think it tortures me at night? The way you taste? The feel of our palms pressed together, damn it, every touch from you, none of it is enough. You have to know that. But it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter that you drive me crazy in every way possible.”

  “Matt—”

  “I won’t be him.”

  “You aren’t him.”

  “You’re wrong,” I said sadly. “I would be just like him if I took what I wanted just because I wanted it.”

  “You wouldn’t be taking,” she whispered.

  I hung my head. “I’d be crossing a professional line that I’ve flirted with for over a week, Parker. Don’t tempt me, it’s not fair.”

  “That sounded like him,” she said sadly.

  She got up, grabbed her bag, and then walked to the door. Her footsteps haunted me, they sounded like a clock ticking, reminding me that whatever this was, was over. The door opened and clicked shut.

  And I knew I was alone.

  And I’d messed up.

  Again.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  PARKER

  When I took a shower that night, my self-worth circled the drain right along with all the dirt and sweat from my body. And when I went to practice the next day, I felt sluggish, my body weighed down by guilt.

  “Parker!” Matt yelled. “Focus!”

  It was our last practice. I couldn’t focus on anything but the fact that he’d said he was just like Erik, and then it was like he accused me of . . . seducing him.

  Like I couldn’t help but make every man want me.

  When I just wanted him.

  When for the first time in my life I wanted more than a goal, more than to make it on a professional team, I just wanted him to want me back in a way that was real, purely us. And I knew that I was asking a lot, so I gave him chances, what girl wouldn’t? I knew I had baggage, so I was giving him a free pass, and the accusations against me weren’t exactly helping. I just wanted him to look past it all and see me. I needed him to see me.

  I squeezed my eyes shut against the onslaught of tears.

  “Stop.” Matt blew the whistle. “We’re done for the day.”

  My head jerked up as panic seized my chest. Was he giving up on me? Was he firing me as his client? “No, no, no, I’ll try harder!”

  “No.” His voice was stern but his expression was soft. “I’ve worked you too hard. It’s fine . . . you need a break, you need . . . fun.”

  Why the heck did he look guilty?

  I crossed my arms. “Fun? As in, I need to go to a theme park? Shopping? What do you mean fun?”

  He let out an exhausted sigh. “Just put the attitude on hold, and maybe pause the sarcasm. We planned something for you, a sort of party to say good job for all the hellish training and dealing with an asshole as your agent, coach, and friend.”

  I smiled. “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.” Why did he still look guilty?

  “We invited some of Jagger and Slade’s teammates, a few of them said they knew you from college. I thought it would be fun for you to hang out with people . . .” He swallowed and added with a rasp, “Your age.”

  I jerked back. “Oh.”

  His smile seemed forced, dark circles lined his eyes like he hadn’t slept in days. Why hadn’t I noticed that before? “I had Mack plan the whole thing. We rented out one of the rooms at the country club, got a DJ. Things are about to get lit.”

  “Don’t say lit, you can’t get away with it like Jagger can,” I teased, even though I felt like crying.

  He nodded, then grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “I’m proud of you.”

  He dropped that same hand.

  I clenched it to make sure I wasn’t wrong.

  And then Matt Kingston turned around and walked back toward the gear and gathered it up, leaving me standing in the middle of a field with a broken heart.

  Other guys.

  Guys my age.

  He was proud.

  He was done.

  And I was devastated.

  I was in another pretty dress.

  A drink was pressed into my hand.

  It tasted bland.

  Willow had done my hair, which fell in loose curls around my shoulders. I was wearing a backless dress with a pair of her Jimmy Choos that made my legs look even longer than they already were. I didn’t feel like a princess, though. More like a lamb out for the slaughter.

  Guys from college recognized me, alright.

  They recognized me as the girl that punched her coach and was rumored to have seduced him in the locker room in order to try to make it to pro. Cheers.

  A few of them were nice to me.

  One of them paid me too much attention. I couldn’t remember his name, mainly because I didn’t like the way he kept staring at my chest.

  “I need another drink,” I told Willow as I walked over to the punch and bypassed it for the bar. “Vodka, double, on the rocks, with a lime,” I said in an anxiety-filled voice.

  “Are you drinking on a school night?” an amused voice said from behind me.

  I turned around and gave Jagger a middle-finger salute. “And to think they let you out of the retirement home! How’s it feel to be free?”

  He just laughed. “Hey, as long as my dick still works.”

  I made a face. “Maybe don’t say that around Matt.”

  “Your cheeks are puffy again,” he said, suddenly serious.

  I shifted on my feet. “Thought makeup hid that.”

  “Nothing hides sadness the way we want it to, does it?”

  “Why are you suddenly finding your tiny heart and using it to have a conversation with me?” I wondered out loud.

  “I like Willow. She’s fun. She’s carefree. She’s young, spontaneous, hysterical. But, people like you, people like us,” he said in a mysterious tone, “we’re forced to age a lot faster than we’d like . . . I’d say you may even be older than our friend Matt.”

  I snorted.

  “He likes you.” Jagger shrugged. “More than he likes me and Slade combined, and he gets millions
from us. He would fucking give me both his kidneys and never look back.”

  “Well, that was probably before you started dating his sister.”

  “Ouch.” Jagger winced and then wrapped an arm around me. “You can’t kill a guy for trying to do the right thing, and Matt, he’s trying to do the right thing here. You’re his client. I’m not a dumbass, I see the way he looks at you, the way you look at him. He’s trying to do good by you, Parker.”

  I looked down at my heels and shrugged, hating that Matt was being the bigger person, the good guy. How ironic. I’d always wanted a guy like Matt, but now, now my past and his morals kept us apart.

  “I don’t know what happened, Parker. He still refuses to tell me why he looks at you like he’s starving but refuses to take a bite, even though we all know it’s not going to kill his career or yours. Would a relationship between you two be frowned upon? Yes. Is it illegal? Hell no. But something happened, I’m assuming with you, and he didn’t break that trust. He never would. He’s good, the best. He’s just . . . good, which I can’t say for everyone I’ve known in this league . . .”

  My heart began a staccato beat, and I looked up with wide eyes as he ran a hand over his buzzed hair.

  “I knew your old coach, Erik, and caught him with an underage girl once. We played together early on, back before Slade and I had our huge falling-out. Point is, he’s not a good guy, so if you punched him, you had a damn good reason. And it makes me wonder if that’s why Matt’s turned so noble. When you’re interested you don’t just stop playing the game.”

  “But he got hurt . . .” I offered lamely.

  “Hah!” He grinned. “I like you. No, I mean players. Ladies’ men. A guy like Matt doesn’t just put everything on hold for anyone. He doesn’t make it personal, but he made it personal with you for a reason. Maybe it’s time you reminded him why.” He took a sip of his drink. “And if he asks, Willow and I aren’t getting busy in the wine cellar.”

  “Ew!” I shoved him away. “No details!”

  “She wore really high heels for a reason, Cheetah Girl.”

  I glared.

  “Go show him your moves.” He chuckled. “But finish your liquid courage first, because Matt’s a hard one to crack, and believe me, brother must be hard as fuck these days.”

  I scrunched up my nose.

  He just shrugged and sauntered off.

  And that’s when Slade made his way over.

  “Oh good, another pep talk. Anything you want to add to the train wreck that Jagger left in his wake?”

  “Who?” Slade’s eyes were so pretty it was almost hard to focus. “I was just going to say you should probably put Matt out of his misery and mine. He’s been texting me every night, and Mack said she was going to change my phone number if he didn’t stop.”

  “Texting you to what? Hang out?”

  “No, have a pillow fight,” he said drily. “He was drunk last night.”

  “So?” I downed the rest of my drink.

  “He’s always in control, doesn’t get drunk just to get drunk. He always has a reason for everything, and he told me what it was . . .”

  I leaned forward.

  “Hey, I don’t gossip.” Slade held up his hands. “But I’m pretty sure if you get him to dance with you, you’ll find out.”

  “So dancing’s going to solve this?”

  “No.” Slade’s gaze turned serious. “An equal amount of communication, sex, and hydration will, though.”

  I exhaled.

  “And off you go . . .” Slade gave me a light tap on the back as I made my way over to where Matt was stewing.

  Music pumped through the dark room. There was a huge dance floor in the middle under two chandeliers. Nearly two hundred people including old teammates, possible new ones, coaches, and other agents were in attendance. Basically, Matt had set up the party to be a relaunch of my career, and already I’d chatted with other coaches who were begging me to come to a tryout after Seattle.

  And every single time I had to fake my excitement.

  Because I’d fallen in love with Washington.

  And everything it entailed.

  Matt was standing near the wall talking with one of the Reign coaches.

  “And there she is.” His face was tired but he was still beautiful—angry and beautiful like when we first met.

  I smiled at that, which seemed to only make him scowl more.

  “We were just talking about you.” Paul Willard was respected throughout the league, and I had always liked him. “Are you ready for Sunday?”

  I took a deep breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be. I just wanted to thank you for taking a chance on me, I know you didn’t have to.”

  Matt stiffened next to me while Paul’s smile softened. “We would have been missing out, and that’s the truth.”

  I nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

  “I know you will,” he agreed. “Alright, I should go find the wife, she said something about a slow dance.”

  Matt laughed. “Good luck.”

  Paul chuckled and left us alone, in that dark corner near the dance floor.

  “You look nice.” I gulped.

  His eyebrows rose in dark humor. “I look like shit, but thanks.”

  “Do you feel like shit too?”

  He bit down on his lip and then looked away. “Aren’t you having fun?”

  “A blast, I totally got hit on by the cutest guy.” Matt’s head whipped in my direction so fast it almost came off his body. “Gotcha.”

  He clenched his jaw, I could see the vein. And for some reason it made me happy. I smiled and held out my hand. “Want to dance?”

  “Not really, no.” He stared me down with a scowl.

  “Please? As friends?”

  I knew I was winning when he sighed again, set down his drink, and then led me onto the dark dance floor as Liam Payne’s song came on. “Familiar” was a mix of hip hop and salsa, I loved it. Matt looked ready to crawl away screaming. I wondered if he was ready to call it a night or just uncomfortable. Sometimes I couldn’t get a read on him, and it killed me to wonder if the distance was because he truly didn’t want me or because he was afraid of the consequences of wanting me.

  I tugged him close just as Willow, Jagger, Slade, and Mack joined us on the floor dancing.

  The rest of the Sounders must have been drunk enough to think dancing was a good idea because soon the dance floor was so crowded we were almost pushed toward the wall, surrounded by dancing bodies and blanketed in darkness.

  I grabbed Matt’s hands, put them on my hips, and swiveled with the music; he closed his eyes and moved with me. The surprising part was that he could move. Then again most athletes I knew were good dancers, but he was great.

  I circled him and then turned and thrust my ass against him as I lifted my hands above my head. All I could hear was cursing from his mouth. I considered it a win as he ran his hands down my arms and across my stomach, pulling me against him as I bent over and shimmied with the rhythm, rocking into his hips. Feeling him press against me almost made me trip. The guy was packing.

  I turned around, his face was stone-cold sober like he refused to give anything away as we danced together. He put distance between us, and then I took that distance right back.

  We danced like we argued.

  And I refused to lose.

  When I looked over my shoulder it was to see Slade jerk his head toward me. What? He wanted me to seduce my agent on the dance floor? In front of everyone?

  I had a better idea.

  Wine cellar.

  Jagger wasn’t there.

  Did that mean it was empty?

  A tortured look crossed Matt’s face when I wrapped my arms around his neck, and yet he kept a respectable space between us. I smirked, which just made him scowl even more.

  I’d never taken control of anything with Erik.

  He never gave me that option.

  He just took.

  Spread his poison.


  And took some more.

  At least with Matt, I was going to go down swinging.

  I fell against him and winced.

  “What’s wrong?” He gripped my body with both hands, while I lied into his ear.

  “I think it’s my ankle.”

  “Fuck!” He wrapped an arm around me. “Can you walk?”

  “Yeah, just need to go somewhere, not here.” I was a horrible liar, but he must have believed the pain on my face as we slowly walked out of the private banquet hall.

  I immediately saw a sign for the wine cellar and turned to my right. I was walking just fine.

  In fact, I was almost sprinting.

  He chased after me.

  When we stopped in front of the wine cellar, I nearly choked. There were private little rooms everywhere, maybe tasting rooms? But each one had a crazy-looking fur blanket, couches, tables, and candles lit everywhere. No wonder Jagger wanted to end up in here; it was like your own private castle.

  I tugged Matt into the first room and closed the doors, then locked them.

  He paced like a caged animal in front of me. “Parker.”

  His voice was raspy, filled with exactly zero self-control.

  “Yes?”

  “Is your ankle really hurt?”

  “No. But my heart is . . . you should probably start making it better.” I put my hands on my hips.

  He gaped. “Listen—”

  “I’d rather not.”

  I slammed my mouth against his.

  And prayed he’d respond.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  MATT

  I had zero restraint left.

  I’d used it all trying not to peel her clothes off her body when we were dancing. I hauled her into my arms and drank, sucking on her tongue first, then deepening the kiss as I pulled the halter part of her dress free. More like tore it. I wasn’t in control anymore as I nipped her lips with my teeth and tugged the rest of the dress down to her hips.

  “Does this mean you forgive me about the ankle?” Parker laughed as she worked the buttons down my shirt and then spread her palms over my naked chest as she shoved it off my body.