Page 85 of 1 Last Shot

Kane pauses before asking with a frown, “She’s not?”

My jaw drops as I turn to stare at him. The corner of his lip is twitching in that way that I can always tell is his attempt not to laugh.

My mom lets out a delighted laugh. But after a moment, she sobers and asks, “We won’t keep you if you weren’t planning on staying. But just answer one question for me, please. And be honest. Is it safe around here? We were so worried when Isabella wanted to move here because we didn’t know anything about the area. Do you live around here?”

“Actually, ma’am, I live right next door.”

“Oh, good. And it’s safe?”

Kane hesitates, rightfully gauging that I haven’t told them about the mugging. I was already feeling inadequate when it came to my ability to stand on my own two feet, the last thing I needed is my parents confirming it with parental worry.

Kane reads all of that in one glance.

“To be completely honest with you, itisa city, and any city comes with danger. But Isabella’s a strong woman, and she can take care of herself. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Thankfully, my parents don’t look skeptical. And when Kane adds, “And anyway, I wouldn’t let anything happen to her,” their expressions become pleased in addition to relieved.

My dad claps Kane on the shoulder. “Good man. A father wants to hear that someone like you is protecting his daughter.”

I canseethe record scratch in Kane’s brain. But I’m too busy biting down on my lip to stifle my smile—the smile that comes from knowing this is exactly the kind of reaction I expected my parents to have to Kane.

And that it’s exactly the thing that Kane needed to hear from someone that’s not me.

Kane gives a stiff nod at my dad’s words, but doesn’t really seem to be able to respond with anything. Instead, he says woodenly, “Anyway, I’ll leave you three to have dinner. Mr. and Mrs. Brooks, it was nice to—”

“Oh my goodness, who isthishandsome young man?” my mom suddenly cries out, clapping her hands together. We all turn to look at what caught her attention, and see Oscar climbing off the chair in my living room that he’s claimed as his napping chair.

“Aren’t youso sweet,” my mom coos, leaning down to extend her hand to the pitbull when he walks up to her. Almost immediately, his tail starts to wag. And it wags even harder when she pets him.

I turn toward Kane with a smile, expecting him to look relieved that Oscar is being friendly and well-behaved. He mentioned Oscar’s seemed standoffish with a few people, and with his breed having the reputation that it does, I know it’s made him a little nervous.

Instead, Kane looks… confused. I watch as he studies Oscar, his brow furrowing.

“I apologize, I don’t mean to keep you,” my mom says after a moment. “He’s just too cute and I couldn’t resist.”

Kane nods his acceptance, but he’s clearly still mulling over something. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Brooks,” he says again. When he whistles and starts toward the door, Oscar follows obediently behind him.

“It was nice to meet you, too, Kane,” my dad calls. My mom just smiles and waves as she reaches into the cabinet for the wine glasses.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” I murmur. When he reaches my doorway and turns around, I can’t help asking, “Why do you look so confused?”

His brow furrows again. “I can’t ever tell who he’s going to be good with,” he answers. “It throws me off.”

I bite my lip to keep from smiling. But Kane sees it and asks, “What? What’s so funny?”

I shrug in an attempt at nonchalance. “You never noticed that he only likes the people you like?”

Kane blinks at that.

“Think about it: who is Oscar friendly with? Based on what you’ve said, it sounds like he’s warming up to people at the gym. But beyond that, who else? Just me, right?”

I don’t expect Kane to admithelikes anyone, either, so I’m not surprised when he avoids the real question and smirks at me instead.

“You think I like you, princess?”

All the air goes out of my lungs at the way he looks at me. “Maybe a little,” I breathe.

His gaze roves over my face, probably taking in every ounce of my infatuation with him, but he gives me nothing in return. After a moment, his expression becomes serious and he says quietly, “Goodnight, Isabella.”

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