Chapter 21 - Brooks #2
Pawsitive Vibes also boasted a café and was tucked into a narrow strip mall about halfway between Rose City and Portland, the kind of place you’d miss entirely if you weren’t looking for it.
Inside, the air smelled faintly of cedar chips and hand sanitizer, undercut by the warm musk of too many cats—if there were such a thing—in one place.
A long ledge circled the room just below the ceiling, a feline highway where sleek shapes padded from perch to perch.
In the front windows, little hammocks swayed lazily with the weight of napping tabbies, their tails flicking in slow, content arcs.
The rest of the space could best be described as a whiskered wonderland—cat trees erected like totem poles, cubbies stacked along the walls, little tunnels cut into the shelving so the cats could dart in and out like ghosts.
Soft cushions and mismatched chairs dotted the floor, clearly meant for the humans who came to sit, sip coffee, and get covered in fur.
And then, there were the three women behind the coffee counter, all of them old enough to be my nana. Carolina had taken to calling them Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather because they reminded her of the three fairies from her favorite Disney film.
“There’s our guy,” one of them said, her face breaking into a grin. “Back again so soon?”
“Couldn’t stay away,” I said easily, slipping a check from my back pocket and sliding it across the counter. They didn’t even blink, just smiled, already knowing what it was.
Beside me, Dani gawked. “You . . . come here a lot?”
I shrugged, guiding her deeper inside. A sleek black cat darted across the floor. “When I can.”
“He’s being modest,” the tallest of the three women said. “Brooks is a certified Paws Pal, one of our biggest donors. He also subscribes to our monthly newsletter.”
Dani’s eyes lit up. “Oh, do tell.”
“Uh, maybe later.” I steered her toward the smaller room at the back, the one labeled with a sign that read Kitten Kingdom. “Dani, here, is in desperate need of some kitten cuddles, so if you wouldn’t mind excusing us, ladies?”
“Have fun, you two.”
Dani froze on the threshold, peeking through the glass. On the other side of the door, half a dozen kittens lounged across beanbags and perches, stretching lazily in the sunbeams.
“You brought me to cuddle kittens?” she asked, dazed.
“Damn right I did.” I gave her a little push inside, watching her shoulders finally loosen as a ginger tabby padded straight up and pressed against her leg. “Told you I’d make you feel better.”
The look she shot me—soft, disbelieving, already on the verge of a smile—was worth every mile of the drive.
The tabby wasted no time climbing straight into Dani’s lap once she crouched, purring like a motor. She blinked down at it, stunned, then looked up at me.
“He just . . . picked me.”
“Of course he did,” I said, leaning against the doorframe with a grin. “They know who needs them most.”
She shot me a look, half-exasperated, half-amused. “Have you been living some secret double life? Pro-baseball coach by day, cat whisperer by night?”
“It’s not a secret,” I said, crouching beside her. A calico padded over and butted its head against my hand, and without thinking, I scratched under its chin until it melted into a puddle of fur. “I just don’t go out of my way to talk about it.”
Dani arched a brow. “But like, they know you here.”
I smirked. “I try to come in a few times a month, sometimes with Carolina, sometimes by myself. I’ve always had a thing for cats.”
And one specific kitten, too. The irony wasn’t lost on me.
Her face softened, fingers stroking absently through the ginger’s fur. “Now that I think about it,” she mused. “I can definitely see you having a cat. Like an old, one-eyed bitch named Bernice or something.”
“You’re not far off,” I told her, stroking the calico as it rolled onto its back, batting at my hand. “My mom got me a cat right before she and my dad split. Said I needed something to keep me company when it was just the two of us, something to remind me I wasn’t alone.”
“What was her name?”
“Agnes,” I said, grinning at the memory. “A sassy, old tortoiseshell with one hell of an attitude. She used to sleep on my head when I was a kid, and if I left my baseball glove lying around, she’d curl up inside like it was hers.”
Dani laughed, the sound finally free of the sharp edge it had carried all day. “That explains so much. You’re basically still that kid with his glove and his cat.”
“I guess some things stick. Cats, baseball, bad hair days.”
She gave me a watery smile, scratching behind the tabby’s ears. “And now me.”
That tugged hard at my chest, but I just tipped my head, grinning. “Yeah, kitten. Now you.”
Another cat hopped up onto the back of her shoulders, and she squealed while I leaned back and chuckled. “Relax,” I said, amused. “If he wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.”
“That’s comforting,” she deadpanned, but her laugh gave her away as she tried to coax the cat down.
I reached over, lifting the little daredevil off her and settling it against my chest. It curled there instantly, purring like a chainsaw.
Dani stared, wide-eyed.
“Seriously,” she whispered. “You’re a cat magnet. You didn’t just bring me here to cuddle cats. You did it so I could watch you make out with them.”
“Jealous?” I teased, kissing the top of the kitten’s head. Cats had always smelled good to me—like clean laundry left drying on the line, simple and grounding in a way that made my chest ease.
She narrowed her eyes, lips twitching. “Of a furball that licks its own butt? Absolutely.”
I chuckled, the sound rumbling in my chest. “Don’t worry, you’re still my favorite kitten.”
A few hours later, after we’d gotten our fill of cat cuddles and even managed to knock a couple of things off our baby to-do list, I drove her back to her place.
She was quieter now, but in that content, post-laughter way, her head tipped against the passenger window, a faint smile curving her mouth. By the time I pulled into her driveway, the storm from earlier had dulled to nothing more than a drizzle in her eyes.
“You know,” Dani said softly when I walked her to her door, a ginger hair or two still clinging to her sweatshirt. “That really did make me feel better. I know this probably wasn’t on your list of things to do today.”
“That’s okay.” I reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my thumb linger against her cheek. “A few tears and hairballs sure beat the hell out of a trade meeting.”
“Thank you.”
She leaned into my touch, and for a second, I thought that was it—I’d tuck her in, say goodbye, and make an early night of it before tomorrow morning’s flight at the ass crack of dawn.
But when I started to pull away, her frown stopped me cold, like she was already bracing for the sound of the door closing behind me.
I bent down instead, my mouth brushing her ear. “Relax, kitten. I’m not going anywhere. We’ve still got one more thing to cross off your list tonight.”
Her brows pinched, confusion flickering across her face until I let the grin curve my mouth.
“I told you I’d take care of everything, didn’t I? Starting with those legs you swore you couldn’t reach.”