Chapter 6 #2
“Nope, you’re not invited.” She picked him up and raised her gaze to meet Leo’s. “I’ll be right back.”
He nodded and waited for her to return. This part of the café was more utilitarian than the front—shelves lined a black-painted
wall and they were filled with cleaning and cat supplies. Bleach, kitty litter, wipes, and other staples. He’d noticed yesterday
how bright and inviting everything was in Pawsitive Vibes. And while he could never imagine himself as a cat person, he was
starting to see the appeal of a cat café.
Via returned, holding a bottle of water. “All right, Sir is taken care of. Gwen Tibbetts has him. She’s an extra cuddler.”
She handed him the bottle.
He took it, appreciating her thoughtfulness. “What’s that?” he asked, twisting off the top.
“We have a few loyal patrons who just want to sit with a cat in their lap and pet it. No coffee, no conversation. Just calmness.
Sir doesn’t mind, and he’s a customer favorite . . . when he’s behaving. I gave him a little catnip for good measure.”
He chuckled and took a swig of the cold water, then followed her to a door with a sign on it that said Cats Welcome, People
Tolerated. She opened it and went straight to a desk, opened the top drawer, and fished inside. When she turned around, she
had a key in hand, plus a small pink box. She handed them to him.
Leo took the key but not the box. Allergy medicine. Guilt hit him. “I’ve, um, got some in the apartment.”
“Here’s extra. I’ll do my best to keep Sir at bay, but I don’t want you suffering.”
She’d given him the chance to admit his lie, but they were on good terms right now and he didn’t want to jeopardize that.
He took the box. “Thanks,” he said. He would tell her, though. Soon. He glanced at the clock. Five past eight. “It won’t take
me long to shower—”
“You don’t have to.”
“I’m all sweaty.”
“You came back from a run, so of course you’re sweaty. You’ll cool off soon enough. Do you want some more water?”
“No,” he said, marveling at how nice she was being. Not that there weren’t nice people in LA. Robert was one of the nicest
he’d ever met. But he was an employee, so it was different. And Leo was used to being on his own, with only himself to depend
on. A bottle of water and box of unneeded allergy medicine made an impression.
She pulled over the extra chair in her office and he sat down. Like her apartment, it was eclectically decorated—the walls
painted red with two tiers of shelving filled with cat-themed knickknacks. Her desk wasn’t messy but not as tidy as he normally
kept his. A closed laptop with a purple cover on it was in the center, a few file folders to the left, a cat mug filled with
pens, highlighters, and colored pencils to the right.
Grabbing a cat calendar off the wall, she brought it over and parked next to him.
“Don’t you use an electronic one?” Leo asked, looking at the picture. October’s cat of the month was a kitten sitting by a black cauldron wearing a witch hat, tiny pumpkins scattered around. Kind of cute.
“Sometimes,” Via said. “But I like old school too. Besides, my phone is in the café.” She looked at Leo. “So’s Sir Meow.”
“Old school it is.” He listened as she pointed out the fixed Pawsitive Vibes activities already jotted on the calendar. Cuddles
and Coffee on Tuesday, their monthly Senior Day this Wednesday, and Pawtrait night every other Thursday. “We always have a
couple of pop-up activities that we do during the month. We get suggestions from customers, and if we can, we try to do them.”
Good thing she had him focusing on the calendar, because he needed the diversion. She smelled wonderful, like a mix of cinnamon,
spice, and vanilla. She’d put her silky auburn hair up in a high ponytail, a few stray wisps framing her face. He really liked
this natural, offbeat style she had going on. Meanwhile, he probably smelled like old sneakers, but she didn’t seem to mind.
Cats, right. They were talking about cats. “What’s this one?” He pointed to the third Friday.
“Meow and Mingle?” She sighed. “Dora came up with that one. I’m not too excited about it. Just because she and her boyfriend
‘re-met’ each other at a speed-dating event doesn’t mean we need one here.”
“Speed dating?”
She turned to him. “Surely they have speed dating in your neck of the woods.”
“I wouldn’t know.” He tugged at the bottom of Earl’s sweatshirt. “Dating’s not on my agenda right now.”
“Mine either.” She straightened, her expression relaxing again.
He was glad they were establishing personal boundaries now. He didn’t need to get romantically involved with anyone, especially with a cat-loving, quirky beauty like Via.
“Dora is running the event, so I won’t be there.” Via wrote down Pumpkin Patch on this Saturday’s square. “The café closes at three. We’ll leave around four.”
So it begins. “What’s the dress code?”
“For a pumpkin patch? Jeans, sweatshirt.” She smirked. “Whatever Earl’s got in his closet that’s warm.”
“There’s plenty to choose from.” He was glad she didn’t think it was weird he was wearing Earl’s clothes. She seemed to be
pragmatic, something he prided himself in being. “My car only seats two, though,” he said, assuming she would want him to
drive and take a ride in the Turismo, like everyone else.
“Oh, we’re taking Gold Yeller.”
That’s right. With everything going on, he forgot about Earl’s truck.
“I plan on getting a bunch of pumpkins, or else we’d take my car.”
“You don’t want to ride in the Turismo?”
She paused. “I hadn’t thought about it. Anyway, Gold Yeller is parked out back. Which reminds me, you should probably park
back there too.”
“Not a chance.” There was a window in the apartment that faced the front of the square, but not the back parking lot. “Too
risky.”
Via’s expression was incredulous. “You’re worried about it getting stolen?”
“Or damaged. It’s a three-hundred-thousand-dollar car, Via. Yeah, I’m worried about theft.”
“That’s a lot of money. Hedge funds must be booming.”
“I do all right.” He did better than all right, but he didn’t like to brag—his foolish mention of summa cum laude notwithstanding.
“Pecan Corner is safe,” she said. “We’ve only had two break-ins in the last ten years. The worst crime people commit around
here is being a little drunk and disorderly around the holidays. Sheriff Griffin is bored half the time.”
“I don’t want to take the chance.”
A pause. “I guess Gold Yeller is yours too,” Via said quietly.
“That’s what Bennett says.” Technically it wasn’t his. Not yet. But it would be, with her help. Once it was his he would sell
it along with the rest of Earl’s property. Even if he wanted to keep it, how would he get it back to California? And what
would he do with an old truck?
She ducked her head and stared at the calendar. “Let’s get this schedule figured out.”
Right. They’d gotten sidetracked enough. “Pumpkin patch this Saturday.”
“Yes,” she said, underlining it. “Apple picking the following Wednesday afternoon. The fresh-pressed cider at Applewood Orchard
is delicious.” Then she wrote Camping Under the Stars on next Saturday’s block.
“What time?”
“For what?”
“What time are we meeting to go camping?”
“We’re not going.” Her expression was unyielding.
“I thought you said I had to do all the activities, except decorate your bathroom.” He still wasn’t keen on doing the Second
Chapter one. It would probably need a complete overhaul.
“Camping together could be”—she glanced down at her desk —“awkward.”
He frowned. “Why? Would we sleep in the same tent?”
“Of course not.” She was looking at the calendar again.
“Then I don’t see a problem.” He crossed his ankle over his knee. “And if you think I’m letting you camp alone, think again.”
Her head whipped toward him, her cheeks a rosy blush. “I can take care of myself.”
“I’m sure you can. But now that I know you camp alone, I can’t in good conscience allow it.”
She spun in her chair and faced him. “Allow it? Did you really just say that to me?”
Her golden eyes gleamed with playfulness, stirring something inside him. He angled toward her, leaning in and giving her a
slow, slow smile that had her eyes changing from gold to deep amber. Oh yeah, he was stirred all right. “Yes, Smitten Kitten,”
he said, his voice low, “I did.”