Kickin' It (Red Card #2)(14)

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.