"I'm Kaitlyn."
Of course you are.
"Kaitlyn Lattigard."She stuck out her palm when he walked up, despite the fact that his hands were full of boxes.
"Oh right.You can't shake.Duh."She blushed."Wow.How tall are you?"
Was she coming on to him?Seriously?Before the scars he used to get a lot of action—girls flirting shamelessly in bars and that sort of thing, but not since the burns.Most people took one look and politely backed away.It wasn't just the scars.They could feel the darkness in him.They sensed the rage so they gave him wide berth.And that was the way he wanted it.
The last thing he needed was to make idle chit chat with strangers—hell, with anyone.Nothing underscored his pain more than trying to interact with people who just.Didn't.Get it.
"Hey, not to be rude, but I didn't ask for your help.Can you give me some space, here?"
Dimples paled, her coppery freckles standing out against her porcelain skin."Oh."
A twinge of regret ran through him.But no.Fuck that.If she would've taken a hint in the first place, he wouldn't have had to be so blunt.
She stumbled back."Okay, yeah.Sorry.Um.I'll just be next door if you need anything."
"I won't need anything."
He pushed open the cheap, practically cardboard door to his apartment and stalked through, letting it swing shut and slam behind him.
Damn.
Well, the sooner Dimples got her sights off him, the happier she'd be.He didn't do young innocents.He didn't do sweet.He didn't do clean, pretty or cute.So yeah.
He may live next door, but he sure as hell wasn't the boy next door.
Kaitlyn stood in the hall,her heart thudding against her chest.
It's not about me.
The Marine had pain.Not just the physical kind.It simmered in his gaze, radiated from his pores.And those burns.God, that had to hurt.A wounded warrior.Her heart ached for him.
Clearly he'd taken her attempt to help as an insult—probably he thought she felt sorry for him because the stairs were a struggle.She considered waiting for him to come back out, to explain that she was just being neighborly, but no, that was too much.He'd already made it plain he didn't appreciate her company.Except her experience as a social worker told her he was full of crap.He needed human interaction as much as he shoved it away right now.
Or maybe he was just a jerk.No, she didn't think so.
She pushed through her own door and poured a glass of iced seltzer water.
Maybe she'd make him cookies or something as a welcome.
No.Too much.She was going to come off as desperate.She wasn't begging for a date, she just… well, what?Wanted to help?
Yes, but she'd be lying if she said that was all.The Marine intrigued her.He'd been gorgeous before the burns.And his body was still all hard-muscled perfection.He was her kind of guy, wounds and all.Maybe especially with the wounds.
New to San Diego, she had yet to find her groove socially.She didn't love the surf-y California pretty boys.They were too self-centered, too shallow and body-focused.
She'd joined a few online dating sites, and had been trying to find someone with a little more depth.She had a few prospects going right now, and her first face-to-face date was scheduled for the following Saturday.
Too bad it wasn't with the Marine, because he made her knees weak with that tough guy thing.
Her phone rang and the screen lit up with a picture of her friend from work.She was ten years older than Kaitlyn, but they talked a lot.
"Hey Becky."
"Hey, how are you?"
