Risky Play (Red Card #1)(40)

“I live five minutes away. I’ll be fine.” I gave him a little wave and got back in the SUV before I did something stupid like say yes to a movie, which we both knew wouldn’t have just been a movie.

It was late. I’d had wine.

He was being nice.

And he’d given me a sample of his flavor again, the way he tasted.

Of course it wouldn’t be a movie.

It would be dessert in his bed.

And I’d hate myself for it in the morning.

I squeezed my eyes shut and leaned back against the soft leather. Why did things have to be so complicated?





Chapter Thirty-One

SLADE

“Let’s just get this over with,” I mumbled to myself as I pulled up to the Kamiakin Elementary School.

Jagger was leaning against his car like he’d been waiting for me since the ass crack of dawn. I rolled my eyes and purposely took my time cutting the engine, opening my door, staring him down, slamming said door, and crossing my arms in response.

“You look radiant this morning, sunshine. Something crawl up your ass and decide to stay there, or do you always look like that and I’ve just now noticed it?” I grinned from ear to ear.

“You’re probably just now noticing on account of your head being stuck in your tiny prick for God knows how long,” he countered with a grin of his own.

“Touché,” I grumbled as we fell into step next to each other and walked onto the field.

It was Monday morning—our conditioning practice started in two hours, and yet there we were. Getting a week pass so we could coach some kids who probably wouldn’t know what a goal was if it hit them in the ass.

The younger ones were fun, don’t get me wrong, some may even call them adorable—even with the runny noses and constant farting.

I just wasn’t feeling it.

That meant I wasn’t feeling inspiring because I wasn’t inspired. Because I was feeling jealous about Mack’s date with Jagger—and because she had barely answered my texts.

And maybe because every time Jagger pulled out his phone I wondered if he was texting her—I wondered if he was winning.

And then I felt like an ass for even thinking it.

She’d done nothing except be an easy target when it came to my grief. I wasn’t sure why it was finally clicking for me, just how much I blamed her for my father’s death.

Maybe it was a hard look at jealousy, staring its ugly face down and realizing that if I didn’t do something, I was going to end up alone, without the only girl in my entire life who’d ever made me feel truly alive.

How’s that for honesty?

“Who you texting?” I just had to ask as I leaned over Jagger’s arm.

He shoved me away with his elbow. “Do you mind?”

I spread my arms wide. “Just a question.”

“Dipshits.” Matt made his way over to us with two Starbucks cups. He was wearing sweats.

I frowned. “Are you depressed, man?”

“Huh?”

“Yeah.” Jagger took one coffee. I took the other. “What’s with the sweats? Get dumped?”

Matt just glared between us. “You know what I need? A pet.”

“Because you’re depressed?” I added knowingly.

Jagger elbowed me. “He doesn’t even have gel in his hair.”

“A nice pet,” Matt continued, “that almost lacks the will to live—I need that level of lazy so I feel like I’m actually adequate at taking care of things.” He sighed. “No, I’m not depressed, I’m just here to help because I’m a good manager and a good friend. Seriously, if you looked up saint in the dictionary, my face would be smack dab next to Mother Teresa.”

I took a few steps back and looked up. “Huh, I could have sworn I felt lightning.”

“I heard thunder,” Jagger added.

“God forbid you two ever become friends. I’d need a sedative,” Matt grumbled. “The kids should be here any minute. Be nice, be inspirational, and try not to curse.”

I laughed. “Yeah, okay, we won’t curse.” I made air quotes. “Matt, we know how to do our shit.”

“Yeah, fuck, let us handle our damn community service like professionals!”

“Hell!” I said while Matt groaned into his hands. “Those little bastards won’t know what hit them, huh, Jagger?”

“You know it, bitch.”

Matt narrowed his eyes. “I think I found the common ground.”

I snorted in disbelief. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

He pointed between us. “You both live to piss me off.”

Jagger was silent, like the idea of us being friends again made him uncomfortable.

I frowned at him and then shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I still don’t want to kill him on a daily basis.”

“Still upset over my date, I see,” he announced just as one of the volunteers walked up with cones and a bag of soccer balls.

“She says you’re just friends. I call bullshit.” I shrugged.

Matt bit back a curse. “Stop with the language.”

I turned and grinned. “And bullshit’s what? A dirty word?”

“Fucking hate my job most days.” Matt kicked the dirt.