RISKY PLAY (RED CARD #1) BY RACHEL VAN DYKEN Page 0,14
a blanket over my head and stayed that way the rest of the flight. And when paparazzi met me at the airport asking why I was yelling at an innocent kid and if I would ever play again.
I snapped.
And hit a photographer.
So far? My continuing soccer career in the States?
Not going well.
Chapter Eleven
MACKENZIE
Four weeks after Puerto Vallarta
The country club was the same.
I was the one that was different.
Changed for better or for worse.
I squeezed my eyes shut as laughter and chatter filled the large dining room. The scents of perfume and steak filled the air.
It was all the same.
I felt altered.
“Are you sure you’re not coming back?” Dad slid a glass of wine toward me. It was fresh hell not grabbing the perfect crystal stem, lifting the red liquid to my lips, and tasting.
It was my passion.
But if working with my passion meant I had to see Alton’s face day in and day out with his brand-new girlfriend who had been hired to work on the marketing team, well, hard pass.
“I’m sure.” I gulped some water then reached for my wineglass only to remember it was empty. I begrudgingly grabbed the one he’d slid to me and took a small sip. Flavor burst in my mouth. I would miss this.
Dad sighed. “What are you going to do, then? Just sit around, watch Netflix? You need to do something or you’re just going to stay . . .” He stopped himself. I knew what he was going to say. Stay sad. I would just stay sad.
I cleared my throat and stared into the salad I hadn’t touched. “What about the Blue Service Assistant Company? Since Aunt Shelby’s pregnant, I know they need people.”
He touched his fingers to his chin like he always did when he was thinking. “Isn’t that a bit . . . beneath you?”
I rolled my eyes. “I’d be an errand girl to rich cranky customers with too much money and not enough time on their hands.” I spread my arms wide as we took in the country club around us. “Yeah, I think I’ll be okay.”
He just chuckled. “Well, if anyone can handle rich people with too much money . . .”
“Exactly.” I beamed.
“I’ll give them a call, let them know to expect you in the morning, the caseload has been pretty crazy since some of the local athletes have started using them. Half the Bellevue Bucks football team signed up the minute they discovered someone would run errands for them and sign ironclad NDAs.”
I shrugged, even though inwardly I was rolling the word athlete around in my head like a bowling ball. He’d been an athlete. Or was that a lie too?
Not the point. The point I needed to focus on was that I had a job lined up. It wasn’t glamorous, but it would keep me away from Alton.
He’d moved on.
And every single time I saw him, he tried to force his friendship on me like the lady at the perfume counter with a bottle of spray in one hand and a sample in the other.
I wanted no part of it.
But he just wouldn’t stop spraying.
Apologizing.
Sending texts.
Telling me that he was sorry but that I would really, really love Joanna!
Yeah, he even sent me a text with a winking emoji.
Hell. No.
I didn’t want to like the new girlfriend.
I didn’t want to see the place she took in his life, the place where I was supposed to be standing, however unhappy I would have been.
I just wanted my life back.
Or some semblance of it.
I wanted . . .
My mind flashed back to Mexico.
Adventure.
I wanted Hugo.
Ugh, it had been a month, and I still woke up in a lust-filled sweat thinking he was in my room, his mouth on mine, my fingers digging into his tanned skin, squeezing his biceps while he chuckled against my neck.
I shivered.
“Cold?” Dad asked, concern laced in his drawn-up brows.
“No.” I offered him a small smile. “I just need more time.”
“It’s been seven months since—”
“Yeah, I know,” I interrupted. Not like I had a calendar with giant red X’s crossing out every day since being jilted at the altar or anything, but a woman doesn’t exactly forget that sort of thing. “More time, please.”
He sighed and stared into his wineglass. It was a table red, a mixture of Cab Franc and a Cab Sauvignon. One of my favorites. My mouth watered for more. The faint taste of cherries lingered on my tongue along with an aftertaste of blackberries.