Two thick black brows rose on his forehead. Almost to his hairline. The move only set off the tightness of his jaw, the arch of his cheekbones. He had a scar on his jaw from a hockey stick smacking him in the face when he was in college.

“Hi?” He stood and stepped back.

I took a minute to scan myself. I’d fallen asleep on the cement porch. My leggings cut into a bruise at my waist but was still hidden by the oversized, long sleeve shirt Heather bought. The sandals were cheap foam flip-flops. My bag was still next to me, though, and held the only thing I owned before today: my driver’s license.

“My sister calls me, tells me a woman I’ve never met before is in trouble and is probably at my home, and I show up, and you look like someone beat the shit out of you, and all you say is ‘hi’?”

As he ranted, he shoved his hands through thick black hair and tugged. A waft of his breath hit me, and I caught the faint scent of alcohol.

“Are you drunk?” I asked.

“No, I’m not drunk.” He squeezed his eyes closed, scraped a hand over his jaw, and dropped it to his side. Grumbling, he said, “Fucking Heather. The shit she gets me involved in.” He stepped back and swept his hand toward the door. “Come on. I bet you’re tired. Maybe tomorrow we can figure this shit out.”

I gaped up at him. “You’re okay with me staying?”

Delirium. Had to be the lack of sleep making me not understand what was happening.

“Yeah,” he huffed and bent toward me. His hand came out so fast I flinched back.

Kane cursed. “Not going to hurt you, just helping you with your bag. Do you need help getting to your feet?”

Pain pulsed in multiple areas in my body, but it was the shame that had my head ducking. He’d gone to help me, and I’d flinched.

When has that ever happened to me? I wasn’t immune to men’s attention. I might not have been the prettiest or slimmest woman in the world, but I received enough attention to know I looked good to others.

Until last night…

I shook my head and braced a hand on the wall to stand. It took a second, and I cringed from the pain at my knees and hip as I stood.

“Thank you,” I whispered. Shame and embarrassment rattled me, made my skin hot and my throat burn.

Great.

He gestured for me to walk with him and started talking. That quiet voice I’d heard the first time he said my name, but this time he drew the words out.

Cautious-like. Like I was an imbecile.

Or a frightened, beaten woman.

I preferred when men thought me crazy, which ironically, only occurred in Heather’s presence.

“Heather’s a pain in the ass and one of the best people I’ve known my whole life. If she needs help, I’m there. If her friends need help, she knows who to call. I’d like to know what I’m getting myself into, but we can talk about that at your pace, okay?”