RISKY PLAY (RED CARD #1) BY RACHEL VAN DYKEN Page 0,52

would we be without our glue?”

“Oh, you two?” He pointed between us. “Probably dead on the street somewhere. But me? I’d be in the Bahamas. Thanks for the reminder. Not painful at all.”

I just rolled my eyes. “Thanks for coming to the game, now watch me kick Jagger’s ass.”

“Your golden-brown locks are mine, Rodriguez!” Jagger grumbled.

I narrowed my eyes and tilted my head. “That come out the way you planned, or are you really regretting—”

“Shut it.”

Matt laughed just as the ref blew the whistle.

My guys ran over to me. I gave them high fives, grabbed my clipboard, and knelt down. “Remember what I said, guys, my future wife needs you to win, nobody wants to marry a football. Amen?”

“Amen!” they shouted.

I sent them off with a giant smile and prayed they wouldn’t make me a hairless cat after Mack’s own heart when I knew in mine—she really preferred bulldogs.

I gave Jagger major side-eye.

Yeah, I wouldn’t stand a chance with no hair.

Chapter Thirty-Five

MACKENZIE

Alton: Your father spoke to me.

I stared at the text while the French toast turned to a rock in my stomach. The last thing I wanted to do after having such a great start to my Saturday was see a text from the guy who accused me of being a whore in front of the guy who rejected me and the one who was . . . what was Jagger doing? It seemed genuine, and I hated that my trust issues were filtering into the way I saw him.

My phone pinged again.

Jagger: We need a redo.

I smiled at the phone and responded. He’d been texting me throughout the week, nothing serious, just asking about my day, telling me about his. Complaining about Slade—the usual.

Me: What were you thinking?

I could tell he was typing since the dots were dancing.

And while he was typing out whatever he was typing out, my eyes fell to the French toast that Slade had made for me—as if he wasn’t busy enough with camp and practice, he woke up and made me something that instantly kicked my day off right. I smiled just as Jagger replied.

Jagger: My place tonight.

I gulped, feeling instantly guilty.

And chewed on my bottom lip. Why did that seem more personal than dinner?

And why did I suddenly feel like I was cheating on Slade when all he’d done was make me breakfast and apologize for his crappy personality? You know, after being sweet all week long, teasing me, forcing me to stay for dinner. I stared down at my phone.

I didn’t overanalyze.

I just responded.

Me: I’ll bring wine.

Jagger: You better . . .

I was about to put my phone away when Alton texted again.

Alton: Look, I don’t know what kind of influence those guys have over you. The fact that you even slept with one or hell who knows? Both of them? Reflects badly on you. Not on me. I just reacted. Like any concerned friend would. I’m worried about you, and it’s wrong of you to take out your own guilt by tattling to your father and trying yet again to get me fired. It’s business, it’s not personal.

I imagined reaching through the screen and squeezing both hands around his neck.

I almost married this guy?

The one who didn’t stand up for the girl?

Alton would never be a hero.

And honestly he didn’t have the brains to pull off the villain.

He was too focused on himself and his own career than anything. Heck, Alton was the kind of guy who would be more worried about his stocks than the fact that the building was burning. I’d just chosen to focus on everything else. I’d ignored the truth right in front of me. I was business to him. Nothing more.

Me: You called me a whore. And yes. I slept with Slade Rodriguez. Not because I was desperate. Not because I was sad. Not because I wanted to see what it was like. And . . .

I felt a tear slide down my cheek and continued.

. . . not because I was trying to trap him into marriage. I had no ulterior motives other than finding adventure in someone’s arms, finding something I’d been searching for my whole life and capturing it in that moment because I could. Because I can . . .

I sent the text.

And then I stared back at Jagger’s name and frowned.

I refused to think about the texts the rest of the day and grabbed the leash for Alfie. It wasn’t long before I got lost in cleaning out the final box.