Kickin' It (Red Card) - Rachel Van Dyken Page 0,17

the sliding glass door. His laughter sounded a bit cruel. “I know, I know, but we can’t all be my sister, alright?”

I flinched.

“She just needs a little bit of polishing.” Another laugh. “Yeah, maybe some anger management, or at least a tip on how to bring in sponsorships that don’t reference dog food, am I right?”

He laughed harder.

Anger and sadness fought each other as I clutched the door handle, unable to let go as his voice floated over the pounding of my pissed-off heart.

“Thanks, Darius. Tell the wife I said hello!” Another hard laugh. “No, no, I promise she’ll be every bit as good as the hype.” When he hung up, I didn’t miss the way he uttered, “At least I hope.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn’t look at him and couldn’t trust myself not to either cry or jump to his balcony and hold his body over the edge with a cruel smile on my face, all the while asking him what animal I looked like in that moment before I ripped his pretty smile off.

Maybe that was a little harsh.

Maybe the anger-management comment wasn’t far from the mark.

“What team?” I finally found my voice.

“Damn it!” He didn’t hide his irritation. I heard stomping, didn’t see it, my eyes still closed and all that. “What the hell are you doing outside my office?”

“I was outside the living room, big difference, and I was taking in some fresh air.” I finally turned and opened my eyes. “What team?”

“How much did you hear?” His eyes flickered from the door to my face. I couldn’t get a read on anything except that his posture was tense and his face looked anything but apologetic from the strong line of his jaw to the eyes that seemed to look past my soul toward something darker, something locked up forever.

He was the sort of man that wanted to see a person’s heart, understand how it worked, and ask you to trust him.

But he wasn’t the sort of man a woman trusted.

He was just like everyone else.

A chameleon.

He was who he needed to be when he needed to be it.

And in that moment, I hated him more than I should.

“What. Team?” I finally hissed out a third time.

“Seattle Reign.” He grinned like I should be happy, when all I felt was despair that the one team I’d really wanted needed to be bribed. “Wow, no ‘Thank you, Matt’? ‘You’re the best agent in the world because you got me a tryout with the Reign’? Everyone’s first choice right now? What an incredible opportunity to not fuck something up.”

“He owed you a favor,” I said lamely, voice hoarse. Was I really that bad?

“Doesn’t matter,” he clipped harshly. “What matters is—” He frowned. “What matters is you need to stop wearing your ponytails so tight, it makes you look angry all the time, and if you don’t stop scowling at me I’m going to force Willow to go show you a true Botox experience.”

“Why use her when I could just ask you?” I answered sweetly.

He glared. “Everything you see is real, Cheetah Girl.”

I gawked. “Who told you?”

“Willow did a very extensive report, at least the early report she sent before I got on that last phone call was”—he smirked—“enlightening.”

Heat rushed into my cheeks while my brain basically screamed, Upper hand, get it back, fast! He’s your opponent, don’t give him the damn ball! Steal it back!

But I had nothing except, “At least I was good enough to get a nickname.”

He stopped smiling immediately. “Low blow for someone who holds your future in his hands, don’t you think?”

“I’ve heard that before.” It was out before I could stop myself.

Confusion marred his face. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” I cleared my throat. Just then, I was saved by the doorbell. “I got it!”

Thankfully, the sliding glass door was already open. Otherwise, I would have face-planted right in front of Matt, and every bird in the vicinity would have had a good laugh.

Willow was already opening the door.

And in walked Jagger with his swagger. I couldn’t help but grin as he winked at me and then reached for Willow’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Damn, you’re pretty.”

I made a gagging noise just in time for Matt to walk in with thunder in his steps and murder in his eyes. “Just tell me you aren’t going to prison with your grandma, and I’ll forget the fact that you just kissed my sister’s hand!”

“Not joining Grandma, but I can hold out