Kane (Arizona Vengeance 8)

“Kane didn’t tell us how gorgeous you were, Mollie,” he murmurs, voice made ten times sexier by his faint accent.

Before I can even respond, Kane says, “Just shut it, Jett. She’s far too smart to fall for your crap.”

Tilting my head up to Kane, I give him a coy smile. “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t know a woman in the world who doesn’t mind being called beautiful.”

Jett gallantly tucks my hand into the crook of his elbow, then motions toward the table. “Then come sit near me. I’ll keep your ears filled with sweet nothings all night.”

I snicker, glancing back at Kane. He opens his mouth, poking his finger in repetitively to mimic vomiting. Jim and Bain laugh, and we all move to take seats around the table. Jett, of course, pulls a chair out next to his. I gladly sit down. I’m up for some fun tonight and at the very least, I’m sure he’s going to be entertaining.

A waitress materializes instantly—one of the perks of being with a bunch of famous hockey players—and Kane and I order beers, then open the menus to take a peek.

After our choices are made to give to the waitress when she returns, the men start peppering me with questions about the friendship I have with Kane. Whether he’s playing it up or not, Jett is especially attentive to me.

After they seem satisfied—as well as a bit mystified that Kane and I are indeed only the best of friends—they start drilling me about my occupation.

Like most folks who learn what I do for a living, they’re fascinated to learn about a woman who travels around the world in a van with her dog and nothing but her wits, confidence, and a little bit of luck to survive.

I answer most of their questions.

“How do you afford to do this?”

Sponsors. Lots of generous sponsors who pay me money to mention their brands, as well as travel magazines I write for. I’ve become an influencer, and there’s good money in it. I have a nicely swollen retirement fund.

“How do you get your van overseas?”

I bore them with the details of international vehicle shipping carriers.

“How do you take Samson internationally?”

More boring details on health certificates, quarantine periods, and only choosing countries my buddy can go to with me. If Samson isn’t allowed, I don’t go.

It goes on and on before Kane takes over, whipping out his iPhone. After he pulls up my Instagram account, he starts showing them the photos of places I’ve traveled to over the years, pointing out some of his favorites.

I remain quiet as he does this, because, frankly, I get a little lost in the pride with which he talks about me. Such affection, admiration… I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it, but it’s one of the reasons I’m so confident in everything I do.

I have Kane, who believes in me wholeheartedly.

There’s no lack of conversation as the evening wears on. We feast on some fantastic food while drinking enough beers to ensure an Uber ride home. And I learn a lot about the men of the Vengeance second line. Each is easygoing, fun, and respectful. Kane relaxes, realizing I’m not obsessively haunted by my scary experience in North Carolina. Several times, I catch him staring with a fond smile when I laugh or say something silly.

The only time it slips is when the dancing starts. Country music blares while people dance a two-step around the perimeter of the second floor. Kane and I have certainly danced on occasion—usually after some heavy partying at a night club—but he’s never the one who asks.

But Jett does. Because I’m buzzed, feeling alive and free, I accept.

As Jett leads me from the table, I see Kane’s expression. His smile is gone.

It’s just him being overprotective, I’m sure, but he has to know I can take care of myself. I can’t let him get too focused on me with what happened with Matthew. He can’t become my self-appointed guardian. Besides, who could I possibly be safer with than a trusted teammate? I make a note to talk to him tomorrow about it, maybe over a big breakfast, to reassure him that I’m fine and he has no need to worry about me like that.

The dance with Jett is fun. What I learned over the past hour and a half is he’s more than just a pretty face. Yes, there was flirtation, but it went both ways. We shared a lot of laughs, as did the whole table. But he’s also a man of substance. Jett was the one asking the most questions about what I did for a living. He was positively fascinated by it, and it seemed to stem from his inherent love of travel. He told me that during the hockey off-season, he travels to at least two or three countries he’s never been to before.