RISKY PLAY (RED CARD #1) BY RACHEL VAN DYKEN Page 0,25

by the time Alfie and I made it back. A small part of me had just begun to feel like maybe since the whole cutting-my-hand incident he’d been nicer, then he did something like just stare at me like I was a complete waste of human space, which hurt.

But I wasn’t giving up.

And since I knew the way into a man’s heart was through his stomach, I baked, I cooked, and I made sure that at least he wasn’t hangry half the time.

“There you go, buddy.” I unleashed Alfie and went to grab a bottle of water only to trip over Slade’s duffel bag.

“Shoot! Alfie, I’ll be right back!” I didn’t know why I was talking to the dog like he could answer, but maybe my loneliness was manifesting as thinking that animals could understand me.

I dashed out the door with the duffel bag, got into my SUV, and probably broke at least two laws trying to get to the stadium in time. Traffic was horrible, like it always is downtown no matter what time of day, and his house wasn’t exactly close. It took a good twenty minutes on a normal day, when people didn’t drive five miles an hour and do their makeup in the rearview mirror.

I honked my horn.

Got flipped off.

Honked it again.

And nearly broke my slingback mules in an attempt to sprint into the stadium. I didn’t exactly know my way around, but Alton had been friends with one of the players, close enough friends that he was one of the groomsmen at our wedding, which only made me sweat more when I thought about seeing him. Because seeing him would remind me of Alton.

Of freaking Joanna.

Of them moving on together while I was working for Slade.

What the hell kind of name was Joanna, anyway?

I speed-walked into the front office and held out the duffel bag. “Hey, Slade Rodriguez left his—”

“On the field.” Security eyed me up and down then told me to put the bag on the conveyor belt while I went through a full TSA baton scan. I was surprised he didn’t force me to take off my shoes.

When I was done, he grabbed a guest pass and handed it to me only after I gave him my license to copy and my social security number.

Really?

They played soccer!

It wasn’t like I was trying to stalk Russell Wilson!

I didn’t really watch sports.

I mean I knew sports were a big deal through Alton, and I knew players made good money, but soccer involved running.

I preferred a cycle bar, with a nice little instructor who yelled encouraging things like “You can do it!” versus running for an hour and imagining chasing a bottle of wine.

“May I go now?” I asked in a voice I hoped sounded sweet rather than strained and irritated.

“Yup.” He winked.

I narrowed my eyes, grabbed the duffel, and picked up the pace until I made it into the stadium.

The first thing I noticed was the lights.

The second?

The giant banners hanging from the upper deck, one for each player, and the amazing amount of seating.

Huh, did they fill this thing up every game?

“Mack?” I’d recognize Jagger’s voice anywhere. And then he was running toward me like we were long-lost friends. If he asked me about Alton, I was going to lose it. “What are you doing here?” He picked me up. He really did give the best hugs out of anyone on this planet. The perfect amount of tight and warm.

When he set me back on my feet, I actually felt better. “Hey, Jagger, how’s practice been?”

He rolled his eyes. “Between you and me, I’d rather hang out with you and—” He stopped himself. “I’m sorry for what happened. I should have called.”

I waved him off. “Water under the bridge. He has Joanna now.”

“Fucking Joanna.” Jagger winked and wrapped his arm around me just as Slade made it to my side.

“Forgot this.” I handed over the duffel bag.

Jagger stiffened and then stared down at me. “Wait . . . tell me this wasn’t your first choice after Alton?”

“Alton?” Slade’s eyes narrowed. “Who the hell is Alton?”

“Her ex—”

“I need to get back to the, um . . . dog.” I couldn’t help the slight cringe under Jagger’s intense gaze and Slade’s confusion.

“Why do you have his duffel bag?” Jagger released me.

“Why wouldn’t she?” Slade sneered.

I pressed my hands into my temples. “I’m his, er . . . housekeeper and dog walker extraordinaire.” I shrugged. “You know, pays the bills.” Confident wink, slight smile. I started to