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Her voice, when she'd said his name, had felt like coming home. No one said his name the way she did. A little rough, a little throaty, with the kind of warmth that made a man feel like he'd finally found the place he belonged.

For a kid who'd been homeless since the age of twelve, home was a big freaking deal.

Sascha's breath was shallow as she gazed up at him, the turquoise frames of her glasses not hiding those deep brown eyes that used to swallow him up.

Fuck. He was in trouble, wasn't he?

"I don't even know where to start," she said. "It's a lot."

"I gathered." He had so much to say. So much he wanted to know. But the words stuck in his throat. All he wanted was to be in the present with her. To breathe this moment in.

"I'm going to check on Gabby," she blurted out. She tried to bolt past him, but her shoulder brushed against his chest. She sucked in her breath at the same moment he did, and they locked gazes as he closed his hand gently around her wrist drawing her to a stop, while he kept his other hand on Millie, just to make sure she was safe.

"Almost seventeen years," he said softly. "How does it still feel like this to be around you?"

Sascha shook her head. "I don't know. It shouldn't. It was a week. There shouldn't be anything here."

Ahh…she felt it, too.

She looked up at him, her face so close to his. All he'd have to do would be to lean in, and her lips would be under his.

Her eyes widened. "No, don't."

He closed his eyes for a moment to pull his shit together. "I would never do anything without your permission."

"But you wanted to kiss me." It wasn't a question.

"I did."

"Why?"

He smiled. "Because you're still you. Irresistible to me."

"No." She took a step back, toward the table. "Why aren't you mad?" she asked. "About Gabby? About that night? How can you look at me like you want to kiss me, instead of shout at me?"

She had her hands on her hips and her chin up. Defensive posture. Ready to be attacked.

He shrugged and moved past her to sit down at her table, refusing to escalate.

Life under the bridge had taught all of the Harts that people did some serious shit when pushed to the edge. He'd done stuff. His siblings had as well. Lots of crap had happened at the hands of the Harts during desperate moments. "Seems pretty asinine to be mad before I have facts. You might have great reasons for all of it." He nodded at the table, indicating that she might take a seat. "Or you might just be a cold-hearted, evil sociopath."

She blinked. "I'm not a sociopath."

"Didn't figure you were, but I thought I'd give you an out. You sitting down?" He unzipped his jacket a bit and cradled Millie against his chest. She licked his chin, a sweet gesture that eased some of his tension.

"Yeah." Sofia eased into the opposite bench of the booth. "What's your dog's name?"

"Millie. I found her behind a dumpster a couple days ago. She was hungry and homeless, so…" he shrugged.

A smile flickered at the corners of Sofia's mouth. "Of course you had to save her. And bring her with you."

He nodded. "I couldn't let her be alone anymore."

"No. You couldn’t." She took a breath. "Keegan?"

Damn, she smelled good. "What?"

"I just want you to know that I will be grateful until the day I die for how you reacted when Gabby showed up today. You are a stunning human being. Thank you for not pushing her away."