Kickin' It (Red Card #2)(46)

“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.