Kickin' It (Red Card) - Rachel Van Dyken Page 0,5
string of curse words that I could clearly hear, which had me flinching, only to open it again like he hadn’t just had a mental breakdown.
His smile was forced, his tone clipped. “Where are your bags?”
“Car.” I gulped.
“Jagger!” he roared. “Bags!”
“The hell?” Jagger sauntered back toward us. “I’m the talent!”
“You’re the pain in the ass and your grandmother got us on CNN with bad press. Get her damn bags, bring them to one of the guest rooms, and then you can go think about all the ways you can make it up to me.”
He let out a laugh. “Come on, Matty, it wasn’t that bad.”
“That bad?” He shoved Jagger.
I took a step back. What kind of client-agent relationship was this?
“They did a body-cavity search!” Matt roared. “TWICE!”
Jagger bit down on his lower lip and then winked over at me. “He liked it, just won’t admit.”
“His hands were twice the size of yours. The FBI just had to take her seriously . . .” Matt shivered. “Just . . . get the bags, and I’ll think about your punishment later.”
“Kinky,” Jagger drawled as he walked past me and toward my rental.
Matt was already on the phone when I turned back, his eyes blazing like he was ready to strangle anyone in his path. “Willow, lovely to talk to you. Any reason why I’m staring at an uninvited guest?”
Worst first impression goes to . . .
“I did not.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Willow—” He glared at me. “Fine. Yeah. No. And stop laughing or you’re sleeping outside.” He hung up and stepped back as Jagger brought my bags through the doorway.
“Well?” Matt shrugged. “Are you coming or going?”
The wind picked up.
We locked eyes as I whispered, “Coming.”
And I could have sworn something flickered in his gaze. His lips parted as the air between us charged.
“Alright then,” he said softly and then left me alone in his foyer.
Chapter Three
MATT
“Speak,” I barked once Willow sauntered into the house with at least three shopping bags as well as one blue Tiffany’s bag dangling from her wrist.
Three. Hours. Later.
I stared. “New nails?”
“I went for an understated blush pink.” She winked and then waved her fingers in my face. “You like?”
I lightly slapped her hand away, earning a pout. “What the hell were you thinking?”
She rolled her eyes and dropped the bags onto my new white leather couch. Her heels clicked against my industrial concrete floors. “I was thinking that I’m too good of a friend to let Parker live on the streets, especially when I promised her free rent for the next three months. It was either bring her with me to charm you to death or leave her homeless—”
I let out a growl.
She shrugged and flipped her hair. “Plus I did ask you, but you were just too busy with one of your football guys to pay attention.”
“Soccer, he plays soccer.” I wiped my face with my hands and wondered if jumping off the pier into ice-cold water would make any of this go away or just kill me swiftly. I eyed Willow. Handling her wasn’t the issue, but handling her and one of her friends? One of her attractive friends with pretty eyes and a body I tried not to notice? Hell, I was going to lose my mind keeping them from the guys. “I manage athletes, big difference.”
“Meh, is it, though?” She shrugged and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. “For what it’s worth, I really like what you did with the place. It’s modern yet warm. Is that a real fur rug?”
“No,” I snapped then leaned my full body against the counter. “She’s in the room across from the master.” Which meant she was going to be sleeping a few feet away from me, fantastic.
“Okay?” Willow squinted at me like I was the slow learner. “Because?”
“Because I’m repainting the other six guest bedrooms and remodeling the master bathroom.” Something I would have told her had I known that I was going to have an unannounced guest.
“Where am I sleeping?”
I had sudden visions of my sister outside on the patio with one blanket and a bottle of whiskey to keep her warm from the ocean breeze.
“You? Oh, outside. I bought a cot. You’re welcome.” I grinned smugly.
“Funny, aren’t you?” She crossed her arms. “Seriously, where am I sleeping?”
“Mother-in-law suite above the pool house. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to cohabitate this early into your lesbian relationship—big step and all.” I shrugged.
She grabbed a pillow from the couch