Kickin' It (Red Card) - Rachel Van Dyken Page 0,3

that car of yours and take her out, you kiss her on the cheek, you pay for the bill, and when all is said and done, they’ll post about how sweet it was that you were out with your grandma and not at some seedy bar signing autographs and picking out girls from a line.”

“Once.” He raised a forefinger. “And I was drunk. It was the only way I could decide which one was prettier.”

“Yeah, I have to agree with Matt about Grandma,” Slade said with a nod. “Also, stay far, far away from Willow.”

“I love the name Willow.” Jagger stared me down.

“I have no problem shoving you off my yacht and dumping a bucket of blood in afterward for good measure.”

“Graphic.” Jagger grinned. “I like it.”

Slade stood. “What’s for lunch?”

“You aren’t staying for lunch.”

“I’ll get the plates!” Jagger followed.

I sighed and gave up. I was physically tired and mentally exhausted. These guys knew they could give me shit and I’d take off my agent hat and join in, but lately, I’d been feeling the pressure of my intense schedule. Maybe it was good timing having Willow come. Maybe I was overthinking things. Maybe everything was going to be totally fine and I needed to just lay off. After all, what could possibly be so horrible about spending time with my sister?

Chapter Two

PARKER

The house was huge.

Intimidating.

It was three stories of financial security, determination, blood, sweat, tears—it was three stories of all the things I wanted out of my soccer career—out of my life.

I gulped at the sight of the modern house and its intimidating landscaping. My dad owned a landscaping business, so I knew the cost of a mature tree—or the cost of at least twenty with shrubs, flowers, intricate water fountains and a Japanese garden that looked so Zen I had the instinctual urge to let out the breath I was holding in and relax.

But I couldn’t.

I was meeting one of the biggest sports agents in the world.

Matt Kingston.

Might as well call him King.

He was my best friend’s older brother, and every single time she’d talked about him he’d sounded smooth, calculating, and damn good at his job. I didn’t want to put all my eggs in one basket, but first impressions were everything. I got out of the rental car holding a plate of peanut-butter cookies in one hand and my backpack in the other, leaving the rest of my stuff behind. It was either this or move back in with my dad. The thought was daunting; we weren’t close, at all. We saw each other during the holidays but other than that, I kept to myself. And after everything this last year, I needed a break. I needed . . . something.

“He’s sweet! Bring him cookies!” We hadn’t been in Seattle for even ten minutes before Willow hopped out of the car and instructed me to use her brother’s sweet tooth against him. Stranded, I had no choice but to follow the directions to his mansion and hope for the best.

I exhaled and rang the doorbell, half expecting a butler to answer and ask me to take off my shoes before coming in or maybe mistake me for staff and tell me to enter through the back.

Note to self: this wasn’t a historical romance novel.

This was my new life.

Hopefully, the start of a new career if I could get someone like Matt to negotiate on my behalf.

It was business.

Not personal.

I wasn’t using my friendship.

I was just . . . networking.

Footsteps sounded on the other side of the door, and it jerked open so fast that I took a step back and almost dropped the plate of cookies. I shoved them forward. “These are for you.”

As far as a first impression went, I could have done worse, right?

And then I locked eyes with him.

Not Matt.

I felt my body stiffen, my eyes widen. Jagger. I was staring at Jagger Komokov. One of the best goalies in the entire world.

He grinned. His long brown locks had been cropped, which is why I had thought he was Matt. “These for me?”

“Um . . .” What should I say? No? “Yes?” came out of my mouth.

“Matt!” Jagger yelled, not taking his eyes off me. “Girl Scouts are making the rounds . . .” I tore my gaze away and squeezed my eyes shut so I didn’t further the stupid coming from my body or mouth.

“Girl Scouts?” a male voice yelled. “The hell! Get rid of them, we’re in a meeting!”

Jagger shrugged, plate