Dominik (Arizona Vengeance 6)

The boys rush across the lounge area that’s furnished with chairs and tables, the wet bar, and a small kitchen counter that’s always staffed and stocked with food, over to the rows of seats at the front of the box that overlooks the ice from high above the rest of the arena.

“There’s pizza, popcorn, and an ice cream sundae bar over at the counter,” I yell above the excited chatter and shouts of surprised joy when they find all the goodies in their seats.

A small boy named Mickey, who has been at Miller House for about six months, comes rushing toward me. Twelve and small for his age, he clutches a Bay jersey and throws his arms around my waist. He almost knocks me back a few steps as I wasn’t expecting it.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Carlson,” he gushes as he looks up with a big grin on his face. “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. Had I been given this opportunity when I was at Miller House, I would have felt the same fucking way. I put my hand on top of his head, tousling his hair. “My pleasure, buddy.”

He releases me, then runs off to the seats again. I pivot toward the wet bar, intent on having a beer to unwind, when the door to the box swings outward. The usher politely holds it open, and Willow comes sailing through. She’s dressed how she always is for a game in her Monahan jersey paired with dark jeans and black ankle boots.

Her eyes laser in on me and she grins broadly, clapping her hands together once and rubbing them with glee. When she saunters toward me, it’s the sexiest thing I think I’ve ever seen. “I have a good feeling about this game, Mr. Carlson. I think our guys are going to kick some major fucking ass tonight. I can just feel it in the air.”

I chuckle, knowing her words carried over to the kids, and she hasn’t even noticed them yet. They’ve heard far worse, I’m sure. I was fluent in every kind of curse word there was by the time I was ten.

Willow walks right up to me—no, into me—pressing her body against mine and sliding her hand around my neck as her other goes to my hip. She pulls me down and delivers a nuclear kiss that speaks of so much promise for later tonight.

Catcalls from behind us ensue, some of the kids calling out, “Oooooh, Mr. Carlson… you got a hot one.”

Willow freezes, her lips glued to mine, before she slowly pulls away and leans to the right to see who is back there. I take a moment to enjoy the shocked rounding of her eyes and the way her mouth falls slightly open as she takes in sixteen boys who are most likely all staring. I hate to even think what some of those older ones might be thinking about my woman.

Willow jerks back until she’s completely hidden from their view, then groans as she looks up. “Why is your box full of a bunch of kids who look like they just accidentally stumbled upon a porno channel?”

I burst out laughing at the image, taking her by the hand. Turning around, I place a hand on her back, walking her toward the seats where all the boys are still going through their goodies.

“Gents… this here is my girlfriend, Willow Monahan. I expect you all to be polite and treat her with respect, because if you don’t, I’ll kick your ass. And after I’m done with you, her brother—Dax Monahan—who plays for the Vengeance, will take up where I left off.”

The boys are all good-natured, of course, because they’ve just been flown to see a playoff game in a luxury box filled with all kinds of free swag and good food. They beam at Willow and offer greetings.

She smiles back before addressing me, her brow knitting in confusion. “What is all this?”

“These are some of the kids from Miller House which is a group home in Los Angeles that I do work with,” I say.

It only takes a second before her expression and her eyes soften. She glances over her shoulder at them and then back to me, her voice going all gooey. “You brought them all here for the game?”

Shaking my head, I reply, “Not all. Some are on restriction, but most of them. I normally take them to basketball games in Los Angeles a few times a year, but I thought this would be fun.”

Willow snorts. “Fun? Are you kidding me? This is probably like the best thing ever to them.”

My gaze moves past her to the grinning and laughing boys—their joy actually filling the air around us.

“You’re amazing,” Willow murmurs. She says it with such reverence—in a tone I’ve never heard from her before—that a tremor moves up my spine. When my gaze snaps to her face, she’s bestowing a look upon me that makes my knees want to buckle from the enormity of what she’s expressing.