His home screamed all male and muscle and athlete, and yet was still somewhere you wanted to spend time and relax.

“You ready to roll?” Keys jangled in Kane’s hand as he spun the keyring on his thumb before clamping them in his fist.

“Sure.” I hitched up my new purse onto my shoulder. “I don’t mind wandering around later, though, if there’s something else you need to be doing.”

The last thing I needed to be was a pest.

He dropped his hand to his side and took a step toward me. There was something in his eyes. A flash of darkness that made my breath catch.

“Let’s get one thing clear, right now, since I already got the notice from Heather about the money she sent me. I’m here to help. I want you comfortable, acting like this house is yours for as long as you’re here and not some guest. You don’t need to act like you’re bothering me, because trust me, if you do, I’ll let you know. And I don’t offer to do anything I don’t want to do. So if I offer to take you to show you the neighborhood so you know where shit is, it’s not a hassle. Got it?”

His throat worked, bobbed as he spoke. Pretty sure I only caught every third word I was so mesmerized by him.

And damn… he smelled good. Spicy and masculine with a hint of something minty.

I still caught enough to get his point. I was apologizing too much, and he was done hearing it.

“Right. I get it.”

“Good. Then let’s go.”

He guided me around the back of the staircase, through the laundry room that had a drop zone and was filled with sports gear, cleats, and piles of dirty laundry on the floor.

“I hate laundry,” he admitted when my eyes widened at the sight.

Maybe… if it wouldn’t piss him off, that was something I could do for him.

I didn’t ask, and he didn’t give me a chance either before he opened the door to the garage. Three cars filled the otherwise empty garage. No tools. Nothing stored. Just a golf cart with a bag of clubs strapped into the back area, a large black SUV, and a sleek black sports car.

“Feel free while you’re here to take out either of the cars. I’ll show you where I keep the keys when we get back.”

Was he serious? “You’re giving me access to your cars?”

He dipped his chin, peered at me over the brim of his sunglasses. “Can you drive?”

“Of course I can.” Learned in Boston, and if you could learn there, my grandfather always said I could drive anywhere.

“Then, yeah. Unless you have a habit of crashing them. It’s fine. I usually take the Land Rover when I go to games, but I can take the Aston if you’d be more comfortable driving the SUV.”

“Maybe I’ll just stick to the golf cart,” I muttered. Because seriously?