Kickin' It (Red Card #2)(13)

“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 shampoo 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.”

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—”