“You’re in a tool belt,” she said, staring at it.
“Yeah.” Was he mistaken or had her eyes dilated. “Why?”
She wet her lips and stared at the tool belt some more. “No reason.”
He laughed softly. “You like the tool belt?”
She flushed. “Well, it’s a cliché for a damn reason. They’re sort of . . . sexy.”
“Good to know,” he said, biting back his smile. “And thanks for coming.”
Willa pushed her hood back and met his gaze, her eyes heavy-lidded from what he assumed was sleep. Her silky hair was more than a little wild, flopping into her eyes, clinging to her jaw. He slid the jacket off of her in the hopes of keeping her dry. This left her in sweat bottoms that said SWAT up one thigh, rain boots, and a snug long-sleeved hoodie that clung to her curves and told him she wasn’t wearing a bra.
His mouth went dry.
From the hoodie pocket a little puppy head poked out. “Ruff!” he squeaked out so hard that his huge ears quivered.
“Vinnie’s back,” she said of the palm-sized dog. “I’m babysitting.” She looked around. “Wow. This place is seriously just . . . wow.” She turned in a slow circle. “I meant to ask you, the molding—is that original woodwork?”
“Original and restored.”
“Gorgeous,” she said, walking through, her voice low and reverent. “Seriously, if this was my home, I’d never leave it.”
Uncomfortable with the praise and yet feeling his chest swell with pride, he didn’t say anything. But it was his fantasy home too.
“And you’re really going to flip it?” she asked, meeting his gaze.
He shrugged. “That’s the plan. I sell everything I renovate. It’s my income.”
“Right.” She nodded. “You don’t get attached to things, I get it. So where can I put Vinnie while we search for Petunia?”
He drew a deep breath and walked her into the kitchen, the leather of his tool belt creaking as he moved, although he was pretty sure she wasn’t finding that so sexy at the moment.
She set Vinnie up in the deep laundry sink, layering it with a soft blanket and then setting his special dog bed in there—a tissue box—with his water and a few toys. “Stay here and be a good boy,” she said. “And I’ll give you a treat.”
“Does that apply to all the males in the room?” Keane asked.
She sent him a long look.
Okay, so no. Shaking his head at himself for even wishing for things that weren’t for him, he turned and walked into the dining room. “Here,” he said, crouching low at the vent. “She went in here.”
Willa eyed the air duct. “Where does it lead?”
“The den. I pulled the vent cover from that one too but she wouldn’t come out.” He wasn’t a guy who panicked. Ever. But he felt a knot in the center of his chest and was pretty sure he was pretty close to panic now.
“Chances are that she can’t back out,” Willa said. “She’s a little . . . husky.” She whispered this last word, as if Pita could not only hear them but also understand English. “Which direction does the vent go?”
He pointed to the left. “The next room over.”
Willa moved to the wall between them and put her ear to it. “Petunia!” she called out and stilled, listening.
There came a very faint “mew.”
“Shit,” Keane said. “That’s it.” He rose to his feet and left the room, grabbing his hatchet from his large job tool box. He moved back to where he’d left Willa. “Stand back.”
She turned and looked at him, her eyes going wide. “What the hell are you going to do with that?”
Wasn’t it obvious? “Tear the wall down.”
“Wow,” she said, and this time she definitely wasn’t impressed. “Hold off a second there, Paul Bunyan.” She went back to the second vent. Down on her hands and knees, she once again called out to Pita. “Petunia? I know you can’t turn around and go back, and that you’re in the dark and probably very unhappy about all of that, but you have to push forward, okay? You’ve got to come to me or the Big Bad Wolf here is going to huff and puff and chop this whole place down. And you should know, he’s going to rip into some beautiful molding and break my heart.”
“Mew.”
“That’s it,” she cooed, still on her hands and knees, her pert ass up in the air, her sweats stretched tight across her cheeks. “Come to me, baby.”
He groaned. “Killing me.”
Still in position, in fact one of his very favorite positions, she craned her neck and looked at him. “I’m trying to save your wall here.”
“Carry on,” he said, his voice an octave lower than before.
She stared at his mouth for a beat, swallowed hard, and then turned back to her task. “Petunia?”
Nothing.
Keane shifted closer and Willa pointed at him. “Don’t you even think about touching that wall.”
His sexy tyrant.
“I mean it,” she said.
He had to laugh. “I hate to break this to you, Willa, but you’ve finally met someone as stubborn and obstinate as you. Pita’s not coming out of there, not even for your sweet nothings because—”
Because nothing. There was a rustling and then the saddest looking lump of filthy fur stuck her head out of the duct, and Keane nearly dropped to his knees in relief. “I can’t believe she came out of there at just the sound of your voice.”
“I’m good but not that good,” Willa said as Pita snatched something from her palm and ate it like she’d been gone for five days without food instead of an hour. “It’s a pupperoni treat. Works every time. Aw,” she said to the dirty cat. “You poor baby. That must have been so traumatic for you.”
“Hugely,” Keane said, swiping his brow. “You should hold me.”
She laughed and he found himself smiling at her like an idiot. “You always carry pupperoni treats in your pocket?”
“Always,” she said and sat on the floor with Pita, not looking at all bothered by the fact that she was now filthy too. From another pocket she pulled out a comb and proceeded to use it to get most of the dirt and dust off the cat.