Kickin' It (Red Card #2)(60)

They both fell into fits of laughter.

I ignored them.

Because she had one drill left.

Which some may think was the easiest.

Score as many goals as you can in under a minute.

Soccer balls stretched from one edge of the field to the other, each one lined up to a different shot she could strike from. She’d have to start at one end and kick them in order.

I flinched when the whistle blew.

And almost laughed when Jagger seemed to hold his breath while Slade pulled out his phone.

At least one of us was smart enough to document it.

The first kick was a bit wide but made it in, and as she went down the line, the kicks got tighter and tighter until she drilled one straight down the middle that had the goalie stumbling backward as the ball hit the net.

I grabbed Slade’s arm and Jagger’s shirt.

We waited like that, holding our breath.

And then Parker looked over her shoulder to me, blew a kiss, turned, and drilled her last goal into the corner of the net.

“YES!” I jumped into the air, and Slade and Jagger shook me.

We were celebrating, and she hadn’t even made it yet.

But we knew soccer.

We knew the game.

The coaching staff couldn’t stop smiling.

And I knew Parker was one of the main reasons.

We hung back until the final girl went. I waited for Parker, she ran toward me at full speed.

I couldn’t help but catch her in my arms, and the need to kiss her was so desperate I almost did it in front of everyone.

My eyes fell to her lips. “In my mind I’m kissing the hell out of you right now and already at work stripping that sweaty uniform from your body. I’m telling you how fucking fantastic you are, and I’m swearing I’ll prove to you just how proud I am by worshipping every inch of your body.”

Her eyes went wide. “Is there a reason we’re still here, then? Because that sounds way better than ice cream for a job well done.”

“We can do that too.” I chuckled, swinging her around and then setting her down on her feet just as Slade and Jagger walked up and gave her hugs and high fives.

“What do you think, boys? Should I play for the men’s team instead and help you win another championship?”

Slade choked out a laugh. “Yeah, maybe one day you’ll get there.”

“Small fry,” Jagger joked.

She stuck out her tongue at both of them just as the head coach, Darius Peters, approached us.

“Who do I have to thank for getting Parker ready for tryouts? I wanna give him or her a call.” Darius grinned from ear to ear.

“Actually,” I chuckled, “that would be me.”

Darius’s eyebrows shot up. “Thought you retired.”

“It turns out I had a little left to give, plus I had a shiny new whistle I wanted to use.”

“Ah . . .” He laughed. “And you two?” He looked at Slade and Jagger.

“Oh, we helped kick her ass the other day in a scrimmage,” Jagger said with laughter in his voice. “But she ended up handing us ours.”

“Speak for yourself.” Slade shoved him with a grin.

Darius was already looking at Parker with the word championship in his eyes. “I’m glad we didn’t pass on you, Parker. You’ll be hearing from us soon, alright?”

Parker nodded excitedly, I could tell she was trying not to scream and dance around us. But she remained professional.

Until we got back to the Benz, about a half hour later.

Then she was dancing in the car and starting to strip.

I about choked on my tongue when her shirt went flying. “Maybe let’s wait until we’re home for that.”

“Home.” She spread her arms wide and then seemed to deflate. “Home.”

“Something wrong?”

“No, nothing, it’s just . . .” She made a face. “It feels that way, to me at least.”

“Good.” I rubbed her leg, and when we pulled up to a stop sign, I couldn’t help myself. I reached across the console and kissed her long and hard, so deep that I didn’t want to come up for air, but the honking behind me was clue enough I couldn’t handle myself in public.

I needed my girl in private.

“Yeah, yeah.” I waved in the rearview mirror and took off with a half-naked Parker holding onto my hand and beaming like she’d just won the World Cup.

We wasted no time. I pulled into the garage, closed the door, and raced her through the house and into the bathroom.

“Are you hitting the showers with me, Coach?” She peeled her sports bra off her perfect little body.

“Sounds dirty . . .” I said in a low voice. “A bit wrong . . .”

“No.” She smiled up at me as she helped me shrug down my jeans. “This isn’t wrong, not you and me.”

“No.” I grinned. “Never.”

She pressed an open-mouthed kiss to my lips and let out a giggle when I hooked my fingers in her shorts and wiggled them to the floor. I carefully discarded each cleat, sock, shin guard. And then it was just the smell of sweat, grass, and victory all wrapped up in one perfect package staring down at me like I was the reason for her happiness when she had no idea that she was the sole reason for mine.

Her hair was a tangled auburn mess at her shoulders, her eyes lit up when I ran my hands up her thighs and cupped her hips. “I’m so damn proud of you, Parker.”