Kane (Arizona Vengeance 8)

I already feel like she’s such an integral part of my life—of me—that it would be like someone cutting off my arm.

Reaching across the console, Mollie takes my hand, lightly lacing her fingers with mine. “And while I could get on board with the idea of us getting a house—especially so Samson could have a yard—”

She takes a moment, then uses her other hand to wave at the monstrosity of a mansion we’re parked in front of before continuing, “These houses are just too big, Kane. I’m a simple girl, and you know that. I don’t need all the luxury trappings that come with your level of success, but if you want something like this, I guess I could be persuaded.”

I glance past her to the house. It’s gargantuan. Erik and Blue live in a similar one. It was a symbol of his prosperity and hard work.

My gaze comes back to Mollie. “I don’t need anything like that.”

“Then what do you say we go look at more modest houses?” she suggests with a smile. “Maybe over in Jim and Ella’s neighborhood.”

I know she’s sincere in her desire to appease the need I have to settle more roots with her. She’s also deflecting me away from talks of her going back on the road, because she was smart enough to know I’m bothered by it by my tone and expression. In turn, because I know her so well, I’m smart enough to realize she’s placating me right now by backing off the tense subject.

Weeks ago, when she first came to me and we became lovers, then fell into true, intimate love, I had told her that I would support her going back out on the road.

Now I’m not so sure I meant it.

“Let’s go drive around their neighborhood,” I agree.

Her smile is genuine and relieved. “Perfect plan.”

We spend an hour riding around Jim’s former neighborhood—now Ella’s since she stayed in the house—and saw some beautiful houses. Way smaller than what I was envisioning, but still bigger than what most have. Any one I could pay cash for if we decided we wanted it. Ultimately, we made note of a few we liked, and Mollie said she’d look up a realtor to use to take us to see them on a convenient day.

We eat lunch at a vegan place Mollie wanted to try. I wasn’t crazy about it, but it ended up being tasty and equally satisfying. I dropped her back at the condo, secure in her safety to the extent I could pull up in front of our building rather than have to walk her up, now that Matthew is behind bars.

I head over to the arena. Have a great practice with the team. We laugh and crack lewd jokes in the locker room. Some make plans to grab a bite to eat and some beers afterward.

I decline because I want to head home to Mollie. Ignoring the jeers that I’ve been pussy-whipped, I instead wear it like a badge of honor because just sitting quietly with Mollie on any given day is better than hanging with my buds and having scores of women throw themselves at me.

I find her on the couch when I step in the door, the aroma of something delicious I can’t quite put my finger on in the oven. She has her laptop resting on her thighs and a frown on her face as she stares at the screen. Samson, who had been curled at her side, hops off and trots over to me for a greeting. I give him the requisite ear scratches after dropping my gear bag in the foyer.

Settling onto the couch beside Mollie, who gives me a bump of her shoulder against mine, I scan the screen to see what she’s doing.

It’s a blank screen with a title at the top in all caps—IDEAS FOR TRAVEL GUIDEBOOK.

There’s nothing else on the screen, and she scowls at all the white space.

With a sigh, she leans her head back on the cushion and stares at the ceiling. “I can’t come up with a freaking idea to write about.”

“How long have you been trying?” I ask.

“Half an hour, at least,” she grumbles, raising her head and giving me a sidelong glance. “It was a stupid idea to write a guidebook.”

“It’s a brilliant idea,” I reassure her. “And since you’re going to model it after the way you travel, it will stand out among the others.”

“Sure,” she mutters, pointing at the computer. “If I could take what’s in my head and put it on pages.”

An idea strikes hard, and I reach for my phone. With a few taps and swipes, I pull up Mollie’s IG account and the hundreds of pictures of her travels.

I couldn’t pick a favorite any more than I could say what my favorite goal I’ve scored is. They’re all special.