“I’ve got to be at work by nine,” he said. “I want to board a cat for the day.”
Keane had always been big and intimidating. It was what had made him such an effective jock. He’d ruled on the football field, the basketball court, and the baseball diamond. The perfect trifecta, the all--around package.
Every girl in the entire school—-and also a good amount of the teachers—-had spent an indecent amount of time eyeballing that package.
But just as Willa had given up men, she’d even longer ago given up thinking about that time, inarguably the worst years of her life. While Keane had been off breaking records and winning hearts, she’d been drowning under the pressures of school and work, not to mention basic survival.
She got that it wasn’t his fault her memories of that time were horrific. Nor was it his fault that just looking at him brought them all back to her. But emotions weren’t logical. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I’m all full up today.”
“I’ll pay double.”
He had a voice like fine whiskey. Not that she ever drank fine whiskey. Even the cheap stuff was a treat. And maybe it was just her imagination, but she was having a hard time getting past the fact that he was both the same and yet had changed. He was still tall, of course, and built sexy as hell, damn him. Broad shoulders, lean hips, biceps straining his shirt as he held up the cat carrier.
He wore faded ripped jeans on his long legs and scuffed work boots. His only concession to the San Francisco winter was a long--sleeved T--shirt that enhanced all those ripped muscles and invited her to BITE ME in big block letters across his chest.
She wasn’t going to lie to herself, she kind of wanted to. Hard.
He stood there exuding raw, sexual power and energy—-not that she was noticing. Nor was she taking in his expression that said maybe he’d already had a bad day.
He could join her damn club.
And at that thought, she mentally smacked herself in the forehead. No! There would be no club joining. She’d set boundaries for herself. She was Switzerland. Neutral. No importing or exporting of anything including sexy smoldering glances, hot body parts, nothing.
Period.
Especially not with Keane Winters, thank you very much. And anyway, she didn’t board animals for the general public. Yes, sometimes she boarded as special favors for clients, a service she called “fur--babysitting” because her capacity here was too small for official boarding. If and when she agreed to “babysit” overnight as a favor, it meant taking her boarders home with her, so she was extremely selective.
And handsome men who’d once been terribly mean boys who ditched painfully shy girls after she’d summoned up every ounce of her courage to ask him out to a dance did not fit her criteria. “I don’t board—-” she started, only to be interrupted by an unholy howl from inside the pink cat carrier.
It was automatic for her to reach for it, and Keane readily released it with what looked to be comical relief.
Turning her back on him, Willa carried the carrier to the counter, incredibly aware that Keane followed her through her shop, moving with an unusually easy grace for such a big guy.
The cat was continuously howling now so she quickly unzipped the carrier, expecting the animal inside to be dying giving the level of unhappiness it’d displayed.
The earsplitting caterwauling immediately stopped and a huge Siamese cat blinked vivid blue eyes owlishly up at her. It had a pale, creamy coat with a darker facial mask that matched its black ears, legs, and paws.
“Well aren’t you beautiful,” Willa said softly and slipped her hands into the box.
The cat immediately allowed herself to be lifted, pressing her face into Willa’s throat for a cuddle.
“Aw,” Willa said gently. “It’s alright now, I’ve got you. You just hated that carrier, didn’t you?”
“What the ever--loving hell,” Keane said, hands on hips now as he glared at the cat. “Are you kidding me?”
“What?”
He scowled. “My great--aunt’s sick and needs help. She dropped the cat off with me last night.”
Well, damn. That was a pretty nice thing he’d done, taking the cat in for his sick aunt.
“The minute Sally left,” Keane went on, “this thing went gonzo.”
Willa looked down at the cat, who gazed back at her, quiet, serene, positively angelic. “What did she do?”
Keane snorted. “What didn’t she do would be the better question. She hid under my bed and tore up
my mattress. Then she helped herself to everything
on my counters, knocking stuff to the floor, destroying my laptop and tablet and phone all in one fell swoop. And then she . . .” He trailed off and appeared to chomp on his back teeth.
“What?”