Kickin' It (Red Card #2)(56)

Why didn’t I believe him?

And why did it seem like he didn’t even believe himself?





Chapter Twenty-Eight MATT

She was distant all night.

And I knew why.

I just wished I knew how to fix it.

We talked, we laughed, we did what we always did when we were together, which meant a lot of laughing, teasing, banter, but I could feel her pulling away, like she was already preparing herself for the worst.

We were at one of my favorite restaurants on the pier, and since I knew the owner and paid him to close it down for two hours, he was more than happy to take my money and let us have our privacy. But the food felt heavy in my stomach.

I poured her a small glass of wine, careful to monitor her alcohol, and then wanted to slap myself. At that moment . . .

I wasn’t her dad.

I wasn’t her coach.

I wasn’t her agent.

And yet I felt like I had to wear all those hats for her. It was confusing even for me, because I’d never crossed that professional line with anyone, and now I wasn’t sure how to proceed. How do you go from treating someone like a client to someone you could actually picture your life with?

“I don’t want to lose you as a client,” I said once the dessert menus were brought to our table.

Parker looked up, her eyes filled with sadness. “I don’t want that either.” Her smile fell. “Were you going to follow that up with a ‘but’?”

“Maybe.”

“I don’t like buts.”

“I love yours, but I prefer the term ass,” I teased.

Her mouth twitched like she wanted to laugh. Shit. She was sexy.

“Look.” I leaned forward. “I like you, I care about you, and when you care about someone you want to take care of them. I just don’t know how to do that without ruining what we have. I don’t know how to be the bossy agent but also be your boyfriend.”

Her eyes widened. “Is that what you want?”

“To be your bossy agent and boyfriend?”

She nodded.

I exhaled slowly as I took in her pretty lips and the way her wide eyes locked onto every single movement I made. She was so pretty with her big, wide brown eyes. I just wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss her soundly, lie to her that it was all going to be fine, when the future was still so uncertain. “I want to be your boyfriend more.”

Her smile was real then. “If I got to choose, I’d choose boyfriend too.”

“So . . .” I reached my hand across the table. The candle flickered in the breeze from the ocean filtering through the window. “I’ll figure out what to do about our contract. I’ll find you someone that you can trust, someone that I can trust. How does that sound?”

“Like they won’t take twenty percent?” she teased.

I kissed the back of her hand. “Hilarious, and you know I wouldn’t even take a percentage from you, and that’s the problem . . . We made it personal and that’s not fair to either of us, it’s hard to figure out where agent-client begins and being lovers ends.”

“I know. I hate that you’re right. But it feels like we’re breaking up.”

It was my turn to laugh. “I’m glad you’re that emotionally attached to your agent.”

Her voice lowered as she looked down at our joined hands. “Because he promised me everything—and he gave me more.”

I was on her side of the table in seconds, my mouth caressing hers, her pliant lips opened to me as I slid my tongue past her lower lip, tasting the wine on her tongue and searching for more.

“Dessert?” I asked once we broke apart.

“Why yes, thank you for asking.” She tilted her head, flicked my tongue with hers, and moaned into my mouth like she was starving for me. I couldn’t get enough of her, of the way we fit together.

The waiter cleared his throat. “Did you need more time?”

“Dessert to go,” I said without looking at him. “Two chocolate soufflés.”

Parker cleared her throat.

“And vanilla ice cream,” I added with an eye roll.

She grinned and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “It’s like you read my mind.”

“Yeah, it had nothing to do with the fact that you were pointing at the menu and giving me a death glare.”

“None at all!” She laughed and then sobered. “As long as we’re together, it’s going to be okay.”

“Of course it will.” I kissed her again just as guests started filling the restaurant. The sadness on her face was like a kick to the gut.

I didn’t want the secrecy any more than she did.

And when people looked over at us, paranoia struck. Did they know who I was? Who she was? Did they see the slight age difference that resembled her and her coach? Did it matter? To me she looked like a girl in her midtwenties, and I’d like to think I looked the same age. My eyes darted left to right and back again as I tried to find a logical reason why it felt like we were being watched.

“Here you go, Mr. Kingston.” The waiter handed me our dessert. “As always, thank you for visiting Elliot’s.”

“Course.” I signed the bill and stood as Parker grabbed her purse. Her lips looked swollen, her hair tousled.