Kickin' It (Red Card) - Rachel Van Dyken Page 0,47

past me; I caught up easily.

And even though we were both listening to music, we ran in perfect cadence, a perfect stride the entire way to the stadium. I was almost sad it was over, until she saw me grab my whistle and her face went from content to murderous.

“You brought that thing?”

“What?” I held the whistle out. “This?”

She tried to snatch it.

I backed up and ran onto the turf, holding it above my head. “What? Did the run not knock you out? Tell you what, if you can take the whistle from me, you can have it.”

I’d never seen her look so competitive, so ready to rip me apart limb by limb.

And then I winked and blew it.

Bad idea.

She charged me.

I stumbled backward and ran, putting a bag of balls between us. She jumped them and came barreling toward me.

She jumped again, and I caught her midair then twisted her around as her body wiggled against mine, her ass bumping me in the best possible way.

I almost groaned when she finally broke free. Thank God for small miracles.

“Hand it over and I won’t kick you in the junk,” she teased with a smirk.

“Kick me in the junk and I guarantee I’ll never father a child. Don’t do that to a man.” I tossed the whistle from hand to hand above her.

“I’ve got chops, old man.”

“Oh yeah, Cheetah Girl?” I burst out laughing while she jumped in front of me and tried swiping it from my hand, it was so adorable that I grabbed her around the waist, tossed her over my shoulder, and ran toward the goal line.

“Maaaaatt!” she yelled, smacking my back, my ass, every piece of skin she could access.

“Gooooaaaalllllll!” I boomed once we reached the goal, and then I tossed her on her feet and ran around her in circles. “Ahhhh, and the crowd goes wild!”

She put her hands on her hips, laughing. “Matt Kingston, did you just score with me?”

And because I was too happy to lie and completely uncensored with that same happiness, I just shrugged and whispered, “I wish.”

She didn’t show any surprise or shock, just sauntered over to me like she was about to give me everything I wanted and needed in that moment. She wet her lips. God, I wanted to taste her. It was at the top of my bucket list and would be even after I did it.

A task I would never tire of.

Something that my heart and body would never consider completed.

A box that could have a million checks next to it and still have room for one more.

She leaned up on her tiptoes and brushed a soft kiss across my lips, then swiped the fucking whistle from my right hand and jumped up and down. “WINNER!”

I clapped. “Wow, good job, cheater.”

“It’s not cheating if you were planning on it anyway. That’s what I like to call opportunity.”

“Really?” I nodded. “Opportunity, huh?”

She kept dancing, so I tossed her back over my shoulder while she blew the whistle then dropped her on her ass next to the bag of balls. “Guess that means we’re starting with burpees. We were going to start with drills, but someone stole my whistle.” And my heart, and my everything. “I want thirty.”

“I thought whoever held the whistle held the power, like the Ring but not near as flashy?” she grumbled as she started her first burpee.

“Power is always equal between us.” I shrugged. “The whistle was just a reason to get you to fight back. If you lose your fight, you’ve lost the game.”

She stopped doing her burpees, chest heaving. “You’re too smart.”

“Yeah.” I stared her sweaty body down. “That’s what I’m feeling now.”

After ten, she pulled off her shirt.

And I was welcomed back into hell again.

Chapter Twenty-One

PARKER

“I can’t move my legs!” I yelled at Matt. We’d had two more days of training, and the guy had gotten more and more grumpy as the days went by. Sunday’s practice had been so playful and fun.

Then Monday happened.

Willow warned me not to get in his way.

The man was like a bear who found out all the honey sources in the world had been completely depleted.

Like a vampire who didn’t have his True Blood.

I even gave him back his whistle, wondering if his attitude was some weird thing about a girl beating him.

But he barely even said thank you.

And now?

Now I was kicking balls toward his face with glee.

He’d called me slow.

And then he asked if I was on my period because I was getting