Kickin' It (Red Card #2)(7)

“Good.” Willow snorted. “This is my future. We’ll be great! Right, Parker?”

Parker hadn’t said one word the entire time, but her skin was pale and her lips were pressed together like she was afraid she was going to say something she’d regret. After a gulp, she nodded to me and then gave Willow a petrified look. What? Could they communicate without speech now? Plus, she seemed so calm next to Willow, almost shy. Maybe she was going to be easier than my own sister to deal with.

I probably owed both of them an apology.

But I was all out of fucks.

So I shrugged in Parker’s direction and then stomped past both girls to get dressed with visions of whiskey dancing in my head.





Chapter Four

PARKER

I tugged down my tight black dress so it covered my ass and shot Willow a murderous glare; this was the last time I ever said yes to any of her clothing choices. She knew I didn’t wear dresses, just like she knew I wasn’t the best at meeting new people. I had foot-in-mouth syndrome. I constantly said what was on my mind, and my therapist often told me that I lacked the emotional empathy to care if anyone around me was affected by my words.

I just . . . I didn’t have time to babysit other people’s feelings.

And right now, my sole focus was to break out after college, get signed to a team as fast as humanly possible, make enough money to find a stable place to live, and do what I love for as long as my body allowed me. I didn’t just love the sport of soccer, I loved the way that it made me forget about everything bad in life. It was my focus, my reason for getting up in the morning. It was everything to me, and the fact that it could be taken away, or that I could end up working at Starbucks, terrified me. I wanted to go pro. Bad.

I gulped when Matt stopped walking and checked his watch. Willow was on his right, I was on his left. He looked at her, then whipped his head over to me. Was he waiting for me to say something? Why were we just standing outside the restaurant?

I cleared my throat.

He cleared his.

I tried not blinking.

He didn’t back down.

“That’s not a dress,” was what he went with. Every word clipped with disdain like he had a right to tell me what I was allowed to wear. Who died and made him my father? It wasn’t like he was that old. Willow said he was barely thirty!

“Pardon?” I snapped, then mentally berated myself for my harsh response. See? Foot-in-mouth was ready to strike again. I dug my fingernails into my palms and waited for his response.

“That”—he jerked his chin at me like I was a petulant child, and I ignored the butterflies that swarmed in my belly at his heated look—“is not a dress.” He leaned in. “Dresses have fabric. They cover things that need to stay covered. That’s a long tank top that should have been thrown out when you grew boobs in the eighth grade.” He shook his head and paled, then mumbled awkwardly, “Not that I’m looking at your boobs.”

I gritted my teeth as rage took over like it always did when I felt threatened or insulted. I pointed at the orange stripe resting on his chest. “Well, that’s not a tie.”

“Bullshit, this is a great tie!” Matt pulled on it a bit and stretched his neck. “It’s marmalade and goes with my white suit.”

“You look like a pumpkin-spice latte.” I grinned. “But the really shitty kind they give away for free at the mall.”

“Parker!” Willow hissed.

“What? He insulted my dress!” I argued, trying to hide the hurt I felt at his obvious dislike of me. Willow should have mentally prepared him for both of us as a package deal. I felt unwanted and annoying. Plus, I needed him, which just made the situation that much more dire. “And no rebuttal. Nice.” I started to walk away only to have Matt grab me by the hand and jerk me back.

Willow cursed and pressed her fingertips to her forehead.

“Behave.” His breath was hot on my ear. “I don’t know you. In fact, I’m instantly regretting letting you into my house, but this night is important. These people may be friends, but they’re still clients. Respect them or I’m finding you a nice cardboard box to call home in downtown Seattle. Got it?”

I sucked in a breath. “You would steal a box from people who are truly homeless?”

“What did I do to deserve this?” He looked toward the sky and then shook his head. “Let’s go. Remember what I said.” He paused and then added, “Both of you.”

“Yes, Dad.” I winked at Willow. My voice was shaky, and I felt the onslaught of tears. A few minutes in and I was already messing everything up! I focused on the embarrassment of him calling me out as anger clouded my line of vision. “We’ll be good. Promise.”

Regret came hard and fast as we made our way into the fancy, dimly lit restaurant.

What the hell was I doing?

I needed him.

And yet I had insulted his tie and called him names.

It didn’t help that he was pretty to look at, with smooth, tanned skin, a white flashy smile, eyes that crinkled, and an expressive face that captivated me even though I didn’t want it to. Yeah, and I’d called him Dad. Good one!

I took a calming breath. I could do this. I could be nice even if he was an ass. I just needed to keep my attitude in check.

How hard could it be?