Finding Serenity by Eden Butler

and Donovan exchange, preferring instead to watch Vaughn as he walks toward the pitch. He moves like a tiger, cool, collected, his shoulders straight and wide. Mollie swallows thick when she takes in the corded muscles of his bare arms, the way the veins on his hands and forearms stick out against his tan skin. She feels her cheeks heat, remembering the way he brushed her off last week at the coffee shop and the awkwardness between them after her small grilling. She left that day feeling ridiculous for flirting with him, then angry that he didn’t respond. When he walks up to Declan, shakes his hand and both men turn toward her, the small blush on her face deepens and Mollie knows that the quick fever of her skin has nothing to do with the scorching temperatures.
    “What the hell is he saying to Declan?” Layla grabs Mollie’s hand to walk toward the pitch.
    “Stop. I don’t wanna go over there.” She pulls her hand away from Layla’s grip and tries not to focus too much on the way Declan crosses his arms, defensive, or how Vaughn glances in her direction and then continues on with whatever he’s telling the Irishman.
    “Why? We were going down there anyway. You know that’s where Autumn will force us to sit once she gets here.”
    But Mollie doesn’t answer Layla’s curiosity. She’s too concerned with how Declan and Vaughn are now laughing together, how they continue to make quick glances in her direction.
    “I’d give my left tit to know what they’re talking about.”
    Layla moves her head to the side, as though she’s trying to decipher Mollie’s meaning. “Why the left one?”
    “Duh, it’s bigger than the right.”
    When Mollie continues to stare at Declan and Vaughn, Layla grabs her arm, pulls her around to get her attention. “Since when do you get all nervous and shy around a guy?”
    “I’m not.”
    “You don’t wanna go over there and watch our friend play because Vaughn is talking to him? That’s bullshit, Mollie.” She rests her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes at Mollie. “You’re gonna let Vaughn screw with your baking day in the sun? Who the hell are you and what have you done to my best friend?”
    “Shut up,” Mollie says, but she knows Layla is right. Vaughn is on her ground, in her territory, talking to her friend. She knows he’s likely fishing for information, trying to get Declan to disclose things she wouldn’t. And it pisses her off, his audacity, his continual butting into her life. “Screw this.” She pulls Layla toward the pitch. When they approach, Declan nods a greeting and Vaughn smiles, though it isn’t an overly friendly gesture.
    “Mollie.” Vaughn’s acknowledgment is quiet and he barely meets her eyes before he walks back toward his squad mates.
    When he’s out of earshot, she turns on Declan. “What the hell was that?”
    “He’s not the enemy, love.” Declan catches the ball that Donovan throws to him, as though Mollie’s presence is barely worth noticing.
    “Declan…”
    He returns the ball to Donovan and waits for another toss. “He’s a good lad. Just trying to find out what I knew about the fire.” Mollie steps in front of the ball and catches it, bringing an end to Declan’s dismissal. He sighs, resigned, but finally focuses on her. “I don’t know why me talking to him hacks you off.”
    “He’s sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.”
    Declan pauses for a moment, his gaze moving over her head to where she knows Vaughn is standing with his friends. “I thought the pair of you…”
    “No. He thinks I’m a kid.” Over her shoulder, Mollie glances at Vaughn, but his attention is diverted, in a quiet discussion with one of his squadmates. “He blew me off last week, made me feel like an idiot for flirting with him so no, there is no ‘pair of us.’ I’d appreciate it if you kept my business out of his ear.”
    Declan’s forehead is dipped, and a small line works under his eyes as though he’s debating