Risky Play (Red Card #1)(23)

“Yup.” He winked.

I narrowed my eyes, grabbed the duffel, and picked up the pace until I made it into the stadium.

The first thing I noticed was the lights.

The second?

The giant banners hanging from the upper deck, one for each player, and the amazing amount of seating.

Huh, did they fill this thing up every game?

“Mack?” I’d recognize Jagger’s voice anywhere. And then he was running toward me like we were long-lost friends. If he asked me about Alton, I was going to lose it. “What are you doing here?” He picked me up. He really did give the best hugs out of anyone on this planet. The perfect amount of tight and warm.

When he set me back on my feet, I actually felt better. “Hey, Jagger, how’s practice been?”

He rolled his eyes. “Between you and me, I’d rather hang out with you and—” He stopped himself. “I’m sorry for what happened. I should have called.”

I waved him off. “Water under the bridge. He has Joanna now.”

“Fucking Joanna.” Jagger winked and wrapped his arm around me just as Slade made it to my side.

“Forgot this.” I handed over the duffel bag.

Jagger stiffened and then stared down at me. “Wait . . . tell me this wasn’t your first choice after Alton?”

“Alton?” Slade’s eyes narrowed. “Who the hell is Alton?”

“Her ex—”

“I need to get back to the, um . . . dog.” I couldn’t help the slight cringe under Jagger’s intense gaze and Slade’s confusion.

“Why do you have his duffel bag?” Jagger released me.

“Why wouldn’t she?” Slade sneered.

I pressed my hands into my temples. “I’m his, er . . . housekeeper and dog walker extraordinaire.” I shrugged. “You know, pays the bills.” Confident wink, slight smile. I started to slowly back away as the rest of the guys walked over, including the coach.

“That you, Mackenzie?” One time. I’d met that stupid coach one time and sent him one case of wine! And this was how I was rewarded?

“Yeah, hi!” I gave a small wave. “I was just leaving.”

“Stay.” He grinned. “And thanks again for the wine last Christmas. The wife wouldn’t shut up about it.”

I shrugged. “It’s the best.”

“Housekeeper?” Jagger repeated. “Dog walker?”

Slade rolled his eyes. “I just moved. I needed help.”

“So you hired a billionaire’s daughter?”

And just like that.

Outed.

“Thanks, Jagger,” I grumbled.

“What?” He looked genuinely confused. “Everyone knows who you are. You were on Vogue last year during Wedding—” He made a face. “Sorry, sore subject.”

“Ya think?”

“Wedding?” Slade just had to ask.

“You know what would be great right now?” I spread my arms wide. “If I just went . . . away, and you guys did your thing, with the cleats and . . . running. Balls. Do your thing with your balls.”

Jagger hid a grin behind his hand while Slade’s lips twitched.

“Stay.” Coach had me in a viselike side hug that immediately caused sweat under my arms. “I insist.”

“Well,” I said through clenched teeth. “If you insist.”

“Let’s go, men.” He clapped his hands.

Slade’s eyes narrowed at me before he shook his head. “Have you always been a compulsive liar, or is this new?”

“Oh, it’s new.” I flashed him a middle finger. “And this whole jackass routine you’ve got going on. That new too, or has it always been in your possessed, flesh-eating soul?”

“Flesh-eating.” He nodded. “Nice. And honestly, it comes and goes, depending on the company.”

“Lucky company.” I glared.

We were at a standstill.

I wanted to lunge at him, poke those perfect eyeballs with my pointer finger, and kick him in the balls.

“Slade!” Coach called.

“Better go play with your tiny balls, Slade. And before you say something childish like ‘You would know,’ remember”—I lowered my eyes—“I really would.”

His face broke out into a smile. That was all it took to transport me back to the guy I’d first met, not the one I was working for. His smile quickly faded, though. It slid into the abyss of whatever anger and sadness he was carrying around in a suitcase.

Forcing me to remember all the reasons I was trying to cheer him up.

Why fighting with him felt more helpful than good—just another one of life’s great mysteries.





Chapter Twenty-One SLADE

Drill.

Run.

Drill.

Run.

Repeat.

I had no time to look at her because she was sitting as far away from our practice as she physically could. It pissed me off that Jagger knew her.

And it pissed me off that I’d been such a tool. And she probably had more money than I’d ever seen in my entire life.

The things I said.

Even if they were true.

Still weren’t right.

My neck felt hot and itchy as I peeled my shirt off and dribbled the ball between the cones, right left, right left, fake, strike.