Kickin' It (Red Card) - Rachel Van Dyken Page 0,39

And I have to be honest with you guys, we’ve gotten a lot of interest and it’s still early. Her heart is in Seattle but we may be tempted by a sweeter offer.”

Erik stared at us like he was trying to figure out if we were bluffing.

Billy stood. “Well, I think that’s that. We’ll stay in touch. Not sure if we can beat Seattle’s offer, but I like to give second chances and I love some raw talent.”

Second chances? It wasn’t a second chance if you never got a first. Matt started rubbing my thigh.

“Thank you.” I didn’t stand, I felt paralyzed.

Erik stood just before Matt did, his eyes on our side of the table. I didn’t drop my hand in time, although Matt jerked away fast enough.

Was I overthinking it?

Would he say something?

Why was he in a position to ruin my life again?

I scooted out after Matt and shook Billy’s hand and begrudgingly did the same to Erik, only he refused to give it back right away.

No, he had to kiss the back of my hand, linger over it, and then whisper, “It’s wonderful to see you again, little all-star.”

I almost puked in my mouth. “Y-you too.”

They left amidst more handshakes while I followed behind Matt. After they left the hotel, Matt turned to me, anger in his eyes.

“Matt, I can ex—”

He put his fingers up then motioned to the bartender. “I’m going to need bottles of Skyy, Hennessy, mixers, and what the hell, toss in some Tanqueray.” He slid the bartender two Franklins. “Charge it to our room, it’s under Kingston.”

“Number?”

Matt pulled out his keycard. “Penthouse suite 10021.”

“Right away, sir.” The bartender took the money, and Matt took my hand.

“Should I check into my room?”

Matt stopped walking, looked at me, then grabbed his phone and dialed. “Willow, the penthouse suite, I’m assuming it has a connecting door to Parker’s room?”

Silence.

More tangible anger on his end.

In fact, his face was turning a nice shade of Will Kill Willow Later red.

“Fine,” he barked, and then I was getting tugged toward the elevators.

With shaking hands, he slid the keycard in and hit the top-floor button.

“I know you’re angry,” I whispered with tears in my eyes. “At me. I don’t even know what you’re thinking, except—”

Matt hit the stop on the elevator, scaring the shit out of me. “Did he touch you?”

I nodded.

Matt braced my shoulders with his hands. “Did he hurt you?”

Another nod as a tear slid down my face, kissing my mouth.

And finally, the question I knew would follow. “Is that why you punched him on national television?”

I burst into tears.

All over his nice shirt.

All over my pretty dress.

In a hanging death trap, almost twenty floors up.

And he held me.

He held me against him and let me cry.

I didn’t realize we were moving again until the doors opened to a beautiful hallway with one door.

He slid the card again and helped me in.

I wiped my cheeks just as another knock sounded.

“God, that better be alcohol,” Matt muttered under his breath as he opened the door and let in one of the wait staff.

They’d basically brought him an entire bar, even more than what he requested.

Matt tipped him.

The waiter left.

And silence fell again.

I was afraid to look anywhere but Matt’s face, afraid I’d miss something, maybe even afraid that I’d miss the disappointment that I needed to see in order to stop falling for him like I knew I was.

I needed the rejection so it wouldn’t hurt when he stopped touching the back of my hand to make sure I was alright, or kissing my cheek just because.

His back was turned to me as he started filling cups with ice. “Have you taken any anxiety meds in the last twenty-four hours?”

“No,” I choked out.

“Good.” He shoved a drink in my face, unbuttoned his shirt a few buttons, sat next to me on the fancy barstool, and said in a low voice, “Tell me everything.”

Chapter Seventeen

PARKER

Everything?

I gulped down half my drink. “Where do you want me to start?”

“At the beginning, where most stories typically start. I think I already know how things ended . . .”

“Things.” I snorted and looked down at my shaking hands. Matt took the drink from me and grabbed them, encompassing them with his warmth as he scooted his barstool closer.

The hotel room was filled with that static silence that buzzed around a person’s ears and made them want to shiver a bit with the emptiness. I choked back a sob as I finally met Matt’s eyes and