Chapter 9
The next morning, Via skipped her morning walk with Sir. He wasn’t too happy about it, but he would have to deal. She and
Leo had worked in the storage room for three hours the night before, and that had been a lot of lifting, pushing, and bending
over. She hadn’t done that much hard work since she, Fergus, and their father had renovated the empty, neglected space that
had become Pawsitive Vibes. Her back and legs needed a bit of a break.
But her sore muscles weren’t the only reason she was skipping her walk. She tossed and turned last night, thinking about Leo.
Or more accurately, about how working in a confined, cluttered space had been an unanticipated dilemma, or benefit, depending
on how she looked at it. They could barely move around without brushing, touching, and pressing against each other so often
that they had to quit apologizing for it.
Even now as she was slipping on her mustard-hued clogs, her stomach was doing delicious backflips thinking about him. Who
wouldn’t be attracted to Leo Brewster, though? She imagined he had plenty of gorgeous women after him. The fact he was single
and not interested in any of them kind of blew her mind, although she had no idea if he was being honest about that or not.
She glanced at her watch. She needed to hurry or she’d be late for work. “C’mon, Sir,” she said, motioning for him to follow her as she opened the door.
He dashed out, parked himself in front of Leo’s door, and howled.
Via groaned. There was that big-dog energy again, and she didn’t have the time or patience to deal with it this morning. She
marched to him and picked him up. Tried to anyway.
Sir dug his claws into Earl’s almost-threadbare welcome mat. It was so old the message had nearly faded away, but she could
still make it out: “Come back with a warrant.” She’d cracked up the first time she saw it. She wasn’t laughing now. Another
tug on Sir, but he wouldn’t let go. Then he let out another ear-piercing meow.
“That’s it,” she said. “I’m taking you to the vet. This isn’t normal—”
The door opened and she looked up, her hands around Sir’s ample middle. “Sorry, Leo . . .” Her words vanished at the sight
of him in running shorts, a form-fitting red T-shirt, and spiky bedhead. Sexy for sure, but that wasn’t what had her stupefied.
Her gaze latched onto his black-rimmed, thick-lensed, exceptionally dorky glasses. She’d never been so turned on.
“Via?” His voice was sleepy. Deep. Husky.
Sir launched out of her grip and into Earl’s apartment. “Sir Meow!”
Leo glanced over his shoulder, then faced Via again, running his hand through his hair.
She’d seen him dressed up in an expensive suit, vintage-casual in Earl’s old clothes, and rocking his Harvard sweatshirt.
He’d looked gorgeous in all of them. But nothing, absolutely nothing, prepared her for his nerdy, tumbled-out-of-bed look.
Deep inside the apartment, she heard Sir meowing again. She needed to get that trespassing tramp. “I—”
“He can stay.” Leo yawned.
Her eyes widened. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I think so anyway. I’m not awake yet.” He pushed up his glasses, his drowsy eyes half open. “Anything I should know
while I’m babysitting?”
His quip made her smile. “He’s self-sufficient. I’ll crack open my door so he can go home and use his box.”
A sleepy nod from Leo as he started shutting the door.
She stepped back. “Thanks—”
Click.
Via stilled, stunned that he was willing to keep Sir Meow for a little while. She’d come up in an hour or so and rescue him
from Sir’s love fest, though. By that time Leo would be awake and realize his mistake.
Work, she had to focus on work. When she arrived at the café, Fergus was already there for Cuddles and Coffee Tuesdays, sprawled
on the couch and surrounded by cats, as usual. She gave him a quick wave and walked to the counter. “Morning, Fergie.”
Birdie nodded to Via as she took an Americano to Fergus. Currently, Mochi and a tabby, Cobalt, were resting in his large lap.
Another cat, Flint, was making biscuits against Fergus’s leg with his white paws, the only part of his body that wasn’t black.
Cinnamon was perched behind him on the edge of the couch.
“Sure you don’t want to adopt one or three of those lovelies?” Birdie said as she handed him his coffee.
He patted Cinnamon lightly on the head with his beefy hand. “You’re not giving up on that, are you?”
“Nope.” Today’s kerchief was orange, the sweatshirt bright yellow, a departure from her typical monochromatic ensembles. “One
of these days you’re going to agree.”
He glanced at the contented cats. “Once again, my standard answer—I’m never home and it wouldn’t be fair to them.”
“You’ll settle down eventually.”
“So you and Mom say.” He smirked, his even teeth showing through his neatly trimmed red beard.
Via watched the exchange with amusement. It was the weekly convo Fergus and Birdie had, and neither of them would budge from
their stance. She was sure it was because Birdie couldn’t wait to say “I told you so” and Fergus was preposterously stubborn
about things. For some reason he’d sworn off women, although he never said why. If he’d gone through anything close to what
she had with her ex, it made sense that he was tight-lipped about his romantic status.
She yawned again as Birdie talked to Bailey Parker, another Cuddles and Coffee regular, who was sipping her drink while petting
Squeaks, the café’s newest resident, a gray shorthair who was sitting on the arm of the chair.
Dora was out running an errand, so Via did her morning tasks and helped customers as they came in. By the time business slowed
down, a little more than an hour had gone by. She poured herself a much-needed double espresso and leaned against the café
counter. An hour without thinking about Leo. A new record as of late. One she’d just broken, because now she was imagining
him again, slowly pushing up those sexy glasses as his gaze trapped hers—
“Octavia Bernice.”
She jumped at Fergus’s booming voice. He was holding out his empty mug.
“I’m tempted to make you pay for this as restitution for invoking my middle name,” she said, grabbing it from him.
“Had to get your attention somehow. You were a million miles away. And when you stop calling me Fergie, I’ll stop using your
given name.”
She added the inordinate amount of sugar he preferred to his coffee and handed it to him. “Not a chance, Fergie.”
“Octavia Bernice it is.” At an insistent meow, he glanced at the floor. “Just a sec, Cinnamon.” He looked at Via again. “Seriously,
you okay? You’ve been acting off lately.”
She grabbed a rag and wiped the counter, ignoring his question. She was totally off, and if she didn’t do something about
it, more people than her family would notice.
Two more meows. Fergus set down his coffee cup and picked up Cinnamon, who immediately started purring and leaned her head
against his broad chest. It was so adorable and would make the perfect social media post, except Fergus hated everything about
social media and refused to have his image online, except for a small headshot on his construction business website. “I think
she’s missing a buddy,” he said. “Sir didn’t want to come downstairs today?”
“He’s with Leo.”
“Earl’s nephew? I thought he was allergic to cats.”
Via frowned. “How did you know that?”
“A not-so-little Birdie told me.”
Naturally. “He’s on a steady course of Benadryl.” She turned around to clean up around the coffee machines.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Fergus continued, “but I actually miss your incessant chatter.”
“Gee, thanks.” She looked at him, expecting his usual teasing expression. He surprised her by being serious.
“Maybe you need some time off. You didn’t take much after Earl passed.”
He was right—she only took off for the short memorial their church had held for him and had helped with the dinner afterward.
Then it was back to work. That was what she needed to do, not be at loose ends mourning him.
But it was nice to know that Fergus cared.
“I’m a little tired, that’s all. I was working in Second Chapter last night moving around boxes of books. ”
“By yourself?”
“With Leo.” She brushed some stray coffee beans on the counter into a tiny pile.
“Hmm.”
That got her attention. “What?”
“Nothing.” He scratched behind Cinnamon’s ears.
“That ‘hmm’ didn’t sound like nothing.”
Fergus’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He shifted Cinnamon to his other arm and dug the cell out. Swiping the screen with his
thumb, he put the phone to his ear. “Hey, Dad.”
Via leaned forward a bit. She could hear their father talking but couldn’t make out what he was saying.
“Yeah, I can do it.” He rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t mind. You’re welcome.” He shut off the phone and shoved it back in his
pocket.
“Everything okay?” Via asked.
He set down Cinnamon. “Dad asked me to do a job for him.”
“Oh. I thought something was actually wrong.”
He scowled. “Have I mentioned how much I hate plumbing?”
“Only a million times.” Via didn’t know if her father had ever harbored any hope of his only son going into the family business,
but ever since she could remember, Fergus disliked plumbing, despite learning it at Dad’s knee and going on jobs with him.
“It’s nice that you help him out from time to time,” she said.
“I’m glad to help him in a jam. It’s the actual plumbing I can’t stand.” He pulled out his wallet.
“I was joking about restitution,” Via said. “You know your coffee is always on the house.”
He laid down a hundred-dollar bill. “My bid for Dora’s painting. Didn’t want to forget.” He shoved his wallet into his back pocket. “At least the job isn’t far away.”
Via took the money and opened the cash register. She put it under the drawer as a reminder to set it aside in the office for
the Harvest Fest auction. “Oh? Where is it?”
“Upstairs.” He grinned. “Turns out your buddy has a leaky sink. He called this morning and made an appointment. Dad was going
to fix it, but he had an emergency job come up.” His grin disappeared. “Gotta go get my toolbox. Ugh.”
“Thanks for the bid,” she said.
He gave her a short nod, then went out the back entrance to the parking lot.
Leo hadn’t said anything about a leak. Now that she thought about it, she should ask Fergus to bring Sir downstairs when he
was finished with the repair. On second thought, her brother didn’t need to deal with Sir’s mercurial attitude. Her besotted
cat was her problem.
But it wasn’t Sir’s image that flitted through her mind. It was Leo’s. Again. She pressed her fingers to her forehead. She
had to figure out a way to deal with her attraction to him, somehow.