Kane (Arizona Vengeance 8)

Luckily, Samson isn’t a barker, somehow always knowing it’s me when I step in. He waited there quietly for a scratch behind the ears. Last night, I obliged, then told him, “Going to get dirty with your mom. You might want to stay out of the bedroom.”

Of course he didn’t understand my words, and he followed me in there. Sat with his head tilted as I got naked and climbed into bed behind Mollie. I didn’t waste any time, putting my mouth on her neck and sliding my fingers down the front of her panties.

At her first moan, Samson turned around and trotted into the living room.

Smart dog.

So yeah… coming home to Mollie waiting there for me all warm and mine for the taking, and after just to hold her in silence and peace, it’s made me reevaluate the definition of what a home even is. I know mine is not one unless she’s in it.

Speaking of which, as we’re finishing breakfast out on my patio, I say, “Take a ride with me this morning?”

She cocks a beautifully shaped brow I watched her pluck in the bathroom we share. “Where to?”

I shrug. “Just a ride. Show you more of the area. I have to be at the arena at two for practice.”

“Okay, sure,” she replies, popping the last piece of bacon into her mouth. “Let me just take a quick shower.”

“Uh-uh,” I reply with a grin, leaning in toward her until our eyes lock. “Let’s take a long shower together first.”

Her responding grin tells me all I need to know.

She likes that idea very much.

?

Freshly fucked, then showered, Mollie looks more beautiful than ever. She donned a summery dress as it’s going to hit the high eighties today, and the material rides high on her thighs as she sits in the passenger seat of my truck. It’s distracting, but I manage to keep my eyes on the road for the most part.

We drive out of the city and over into Scottsdale while I point out interesting places I’ve discovered in the short time I’ve been here.

“Most of the players live in Scottsdale,” I say as we head into a neighborhood with sprawling mansions. “This is where Erik and Blue live, and where Bishop is looking to buy.”

“They’re gorgeous,” she murmurs as we slowly ride the pristine streets with the beautifully gated homes surrounded by bougainvillea-covered walls.

“I thought we could maybe look at a few of the ones for sale,” I say idly. “Just make a note of the ones we like on the outside, then maybe find a day we can take tours.”

Mollie’s attention snaps my way, her expression incredulous. “You want to buy a home in this neighborhood?”

“Yeah,” I reply with a smile. “I mean, these houses are amazing. We’d have so much more room. Samson would have a yard.”

Mollie looks out the window. She’s silent for a long time. I can’t tell whether I’ve rendered her speechless in a good or bad way.

Finally, she asks hesitantly, “You don’t think this is kind of fast?”

Now I’m the one taken aback. “Buying a house for us to live in? No, I don’t think it’s fast. We’ve spent ten years getting to this point.”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m not talking about the commitment to buy a permanent place for us to live. I’m talking about the fact I still don’t know what to do with my life. I mean… what if I wanted to go back to traveling?”

Something in her tone causes a heaviness to settle in my chest, and it’s practically suffocating. We had indeed talked about such things, but she seemed content just to be with me.

This needs a face-to-face conversation, one that can’t be had while I’m driving. It also can’t wait, so I find the first available space alongside the curb of a sprawling Mediterranean house behind iron gates, then put the truck in park.

“I thought we were going to travel during the summer,” I say as I turn in my seat to face her.

She does the same, looking me right in the eye as she nods. “I love that idea. It would be amazing to be on the road with you. But… summer is a long time away.”

Christ… she misses what she does. Driving the roads on her own with Samson, seeing wondrous sites, and then writing beautiful words about them.

“Are you saying you want to go back to doing what you were before?” I ask hesitantly.

She instantly shakes her head, which is a relief. What’s not providing me with any degree of comfort is the fact she looks so conflicted. “What I’m saying is that I miss what I do, but I love being with you. I have to figure out how to make it balance.”

She’s right, of course. She deserves to pursue her dreams as much as I do, but the thought of her being gone so much fills me with dread. Would we be able to survive it?