Kickin' It (Red Card #2)(30)

With a sigh, I finally grabbed her right hand. “You may need your fingers later.”

“Huh?”

“You’re chewing your nails down to nubs. I’m aware there’s a very serious no-hands rule in soccer, but you may need them to catch all those tacos in the wild later.”

She just exhaled and looked out the window. “Yeah, good point.”

“Nervous?” Why the hell wasn’t I moving my hand?

Furthermore, why was she letting me touch her? When days ago confronting her had her eyes bugging out of her head and her claws directed at my dick and everything else my body held dear?

“Dunno,” she said.

Her hand became clammy, and then she dug her left hand into her mouth. I cleared my throat.

With an eye roll, she sat on it. “Better?”

I snorted out a laugh. “Thought only toddlers sat on their hands.”

“You would know,” she said sweetly without making eye contact.

“You’re afraid,” I whispered.

“I’d rather be angry.”

A peculiar answer. One born out of knowing fear, facing its ugliness and deciding that to go down fighting and screaming, biting and cursing, was better than rocking in the corner and letting defeat take hold.

Way in over your head, Matt.

I almost chuckled.

Leave it to Willow to drop this one on my doorstep.

Damn it, Willow.

“What are you wearing tonight?” I changed the subject so that she would stop focusing on her fear and her need to lash out in order to send it packing. “A dress?”

“Masking tape and Sharpie.” She flashed me a smart-ass grin. “You want first dibs on doodling?”

“I wouldn’t trust me with a marker where you’re concerned.” I smirked.

Her eyes narrowed. “With my luck you’d draw penises all over me in full middle school humor.”

“I was thinking something along the lines of tits, but yeah, that works too.”

“Why draw what I already have?” she asked sweetly, causing me to flash a look at her chest and then look away. “Caught ya.”

“I’m a guy. You say tits, I look. It’s biology.” I tugged at the collar of my shirt and then cleared my throat. “Seriously, though, what did you bring? Are you confident about your outfit?”

Silence. Followed by a noncommittal shrug.

“Right.” I leaned toward the driver. “We need to stop off at the nearest department store, Saks, Barney’s, Nordstrom—whatever’s closest.”

“Nordstrom is a block from your hotel.”

“Perfect. You’ll wait for us.” I handed him a crisp hundred-dollar bill. “Keep the car running.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

When I leaned back into my leather seat, Parker was giving me a confused look.

“What?” Suddenly feeling insecure, I dropped her hand and faced her. For some reason holding her hand made me uncomfortable, out of control, and I didn’t like submitting control to someone so chaotic. Even though it was one of the things I loved about her most.

Shit, I was completely losing it.

“Nothing.” She eyed me up and down. “Never mind.”

“You can’t give me a look like—” I frowned. “Wait, are you blushing?”

“Of course not!” she scoffed with a weak laugh as her cheeks reddened even more, and then she was running her palms down her white Nike joggers.

“You are.” I leaned in and touched her right cheek with my fingertip. It was like I couldn’t stop touching and provoking her. Maybe I liked the smiles, the blushes. Maybe I liked the yelling and the fighting. Maybe I wanted all of it in one chaotic, hurricane-filled package.

She shrugged away from my touch and was practically koala-hugging her door when she gave me an irritated look and said, “I was just going to say that was hot, what you just did, and now my embarrassment is complete, so if you could just give the nice man another Benjamin Franklin, I’ll let him run me over with this nice, heavy piece of machinery.”

I tried to hide my smile and ended up failing as I let out a low chuckle that made me feel lighter than I’d felt in years. “That may have been hot, but you, right now . . .” I shouldn’t say it. I couldn’t not say it. “Are adorable.”

She scrunched up her nose. “Like a pet?”

“One I want to keep.” I shrugged. “Not the kind you drop off at the farm, so consider yourself safe.”

“You and your compliments, my head may explode.” At least she was smiling at me, and I was smiling back in a moment I wanted to put on repeat again and again. The car pulled to a stop; too soon she looked away, giving me no reason to keep staring like an idiot.

“Mr. Kingston,” our driver said politely.

“Thank you.” I nodded as he hurried out of the car and opened Parker’s door and then ran around and opened mine. I hated waiting, but it was part of his job, and I knew it was insulting not to. “We won’t be long.”

“Take your time, Mr. Kingston.” He tipped his hat, revealing round spectacles and an easy yet aged smile and tanned face. “I brought my Kindle.”

“Good man.” I chuckled and then put my hand on Parker’s back as we walked into the department store. I could tell she was trying to hide her shock because she had her unimpressed face glued on, but I could sense her excitement over the chic décor and expensive clothes. Hell, I could almost feel her body buzzing with it when we walked by all the salon shoes.