Kickin' It (Red Card) - Rachel Van Dyken Page 0,81

with a mixture of old Parker and new Parker, one that involved allowing me to buy her things like expensive shoes she didn’t need. And I loved that she wore them because she wanted a piece of me with her when she was interviewed for the first time.

She looked breathtaking, sexy, confident. I couldn’t look away, and I’m sure most of America felt exactly the same. I felt nothing but pride for my girl as she proceeded to answer the question.

“I had a lot of reasons, but mainly, my old agent and now boyfriend, Matt, gave me the strength to speak up, to find my own voice, and to be a role model for other women who may be in the same position—he’s everything to me.”

And about to be more, she just didn’t know it yet.

“Should have worn a dress,” Willow grumbled, taking a handful of popcorn while Jagger held the bowl up to her face like he was offering her a popcorn sacrifice and would do anything to stay on her good side.

Parker groaned then covered her face with her hands. “It’s so weird seeing myself on TV.”

“Get used to it.” I wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, kissing her temple. “Not only are you the star player for the Seattle Reign, but Willow told me you just signed a deal with Adidas?”

Parker beamed up at me. “Weird she may even be a better agent than you?”

Jagger choked on his cough. “You’re going to pay for that.”

“Oh?” Parker spread her arms wide. “Can’t hurt the talent, can you?”

“Who said anything about pain?” I said in a low voice, grabbing her by the arm, tossing her over my shoulder, and marching her into our bedroom, just in time for Jagger to ask loudly if he needed to grab his handy ear plugs.

He exaggerated how much noise we made.

Or so we thought.

And then he bought Willow a matching pair.

Whatever, it was my house and now that renovations were close to being done, I couldn’t wait to share all of it with Parker.

Forever.

“You didn’t need the dress,” I said, setting her on her feet. “The jeans you wore were more you than a dress. You were . . . brilliant.” I pressed a heated kiss to her mouth and stepped back, my heart slamming against my ribs.

Her smile fell. “Matt? What’s wrong? You look like you’re ready to puke.”

“Still might happen.” I gave my head a shake, turned around in a small circle, patted both pockets, and then just dropped like an idiot to both knees and looked up at her shocked expression. Her cheeks pinked and her hands shook as she covered her mouth.

“Matt?”

The door to my bedroom opened.

Jagger and Willow stood with their phones held high like they were film students, wearing wide grins. My sister’s own engagement ring sparkled in the air. Bastard. I was still planning on throwing him off the balcony.

“Parker.” My voice shook. “You are the bravest woman I know. You’re strong. You’re resilient, you’re beautiful, talented. It would take me an eternity to tell you all the things I find incredible about you, all the small details that I don’t think you even see when you look in the mirror. You are perfected chaos, crazy but in all the ways that make sense to me. I love you.” My voice cracked. “Be my wife?”

Her hands fell at her sides as a single tear slid down her cheek, splattering onto the floor. “On one condition.”

I frowned up at her. Wasn’t prepared for that. “Anything.”

She leaned down. “I get the whistle.”

I tried to hide my grin and failed. “Open the box.”

She hesitated then reached for the blue Tiffany’s box, opened it, and burst into tears. “The red whistle!”

“Somehow I figured you needed proof of my love, of my dedication, and I figured it was time you trained me.”

Jagger laughed. “Attaboy!”

Willow smacked him in the chest.

“This,” Parker sobbed as she pulled me up into her arms, “is the best gift ever, because it’s us.”

“It is us.” I held her tight and then pulled away and reached into my back pocket. “But since Tiffany’s wouldn’t just sell me a blue box, I got this too.”

I held out a single-stone princess-cut ring. I knew Parker wouldn’t want something huge, she was an athlete after all, so I went for two karats with perfect clarity.

Another gasp escaped her lips before she launched herself into my arms. “It’s perfect.”

“The whistle or the ring?”

“Both.” She kissed my neck, then grabbed me by the face with both hands, raining kisses all over me until she jumped back and held out her hands. “Now, put the ring on my finger.” Apparently I was going too slow because she blew the whistle, followed by, “Take off your pants.”

“And that’s our cue.” Willow laughed, shutting the door quietly behind her and Jagger.

“Seriously?” I faced Parker as she stared at her ring finger and then put the whistle back in her mouth and blew. “Fine! Fine!” I shrugged out of my jeans.

“Wonderful.” Parker blew the whistle again. “Ten push-ups.”

“Parker, that’s not really why I gave you the whistle—”

“Ten push-ups or you’re doing burpees. Your choice, Matt.” She grinned and then tilted her head like she was seconds away from blowing the whistle again.

“Son of a bitch.” I dropped to the ground, did my ten push-ups, then jumped to my feet a bit out of breath.

“I think this is the start to a beautiful marriage.” She burst out laughing just as I lunged for her and tossed her onto the bed. The whistle went off at least ten more times before I managed to pry it from her mouth and hands, replacing it with me, my heat, my touch, my kiss.

And then no more whistle. Only us in a tangle of clothes, laughter, and love. Exactly the way it was supposed to be all along.