Page 7 of Kitty Cafe & The Grump

"Mornin’, Rydker. Looks like you’ve made a friend," I softly greet. Rydker gives Mr. Ned one last pat and stands. I have to remind myself to breathe like a normal person. He is tall—tall enough to make the room feel smaller. When his eyes find mine, he just looks at me. Like he is in absolutely no hurry, like he’s noticed something worth noticing. Then Rydker crosses the room slowly. My eyes trail after him as he stops close enough for me to feel the heat sizzling off him, and I don’t step back.

Slowly, his hand comes up, giving me every chance to move away. I don’t. He cups my cheek, his thumb brushing just under my eye, and I know the exact moment he figures it out. No words leave his lips, he just looks at me the way people rarely do, like he actually wants to see more of me. Then he dips his head to meet my gaze. "Tell me what brought those tears, Kitty." His voice is deep, almost gravelly. It rattles my composure. He clenches his jaw.

New tears prickle my eyes. "How’d you know?" My voice is smaller than I intend. Before a tear can fall, his thumb catches it, brushing it away.

"I notice a lot," Rydker replies. Simple. Confidant. His words say more than a speech would have. He is a man of few words, but each one lands. Even Mr. Ned, who’s rejected every human before, has figured it out. Rydker is different or just like him.

"Sometimes..." I close my eyes, searching for the words. "Sometimes I…” And then his lips are on mine. Soft. Full. Leisurely. Every thought I’ve been trying to form dissolves completely on my tongue, and honestly, good riddance. I can’t remember the last time a man kissed me like this. Pause. I can’t remember when a man last kissed me—period. I’ve genuinely kissed my cats more than I’ve kissed any human in recent memory, which says a lot about my social life and absolutely nothing bad about my cats. But this is different. This is Rydker, and somehow that explains everything. I can’t explain it, but this does.

Rydker’s hand stays on my cheeks as he tilts my head gently to the side. I am putty in his hands. When he gently pulls back, his eyes are dark, soft, and searching in mine all at once. But then he bites his lower lip, as if he’s thinking something over. Kissing a man I don’t know? That is not like me. I am responsible, not spontaneous, and a planner. I am a cardigan-wearing, very sensible follower of an everyday routine. And yet, those pillowy lips find mine again, and I decide the boring routines can wait.

Heat creeps up my neck and settles somewhere in my chest. Suddenly, I am very aware of how close we stand, and how little I mind. My whole body feels calm. He kisses the corner of my jaw, then my chin, then the side of my neck. I make a sound I am choosing not to analyze. I am a little unsteady. It feels like the floor has quietly shifted beneath me. Is this too fast? No. This feels right.

"Hey." His voice is quiet. "You don’t have to be nervous with me, Kitty." I haven’t realized I am, until he says it. "I mean it," he adds. Our eyes hold with the kind of steadiness that makes my chest ache in a completely different way than it has all morning. "Whatever is bothering you, whatever’s been making you cry, I’m not going anywhere. I don’t want to. You’re safe here. With me." I believe him. That’s the part that really gets me.

I nod. "You really mean that? But your store…" I whisper. It comes out more broken and vulnerable than I intend. Rydker nods once, his hand shifting from my cheek to the back of my neck, threading his fingers in my tousled hair.

"Every word. And I have a store manager who comes every day." A pause. I can feel a sense of peace behind his stare, through his touch. "You’ve been carrying that pain on your own for a long time, haven’t you?" My silence answers him as much as words would have, tears welling in my eyes. When he pulls me closer, I let myself lean into his strong chest. "You don’t have to hide how you feel," he says softly. "Not with me." This moment eases some of the loneliness, just for now.

A single tear rolls down my cheek as I look up at him, caught somewhere between laughing and completely falling apart. "You know, you make it really hard to think straight when you say things like that."

"Good." The corner of his mouth curves, just slightly, and somehow that small smile does more damage than the kiss has. "Then maybe you’ll let yourself feel it. Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Being around you…" He pauses, running the back of his hand down the side of my face. His mouth works as if he’s choosing his words carefully, "Being with you, quiets everything down in my head." Rydker lifts his finger to point at his temple before lowering his hand to wrap his fingers around mine. I don’t know what to do with that. Well, to be honest, I don’t know what to do with any of this. He reaches for me again, slower this time, and I meet those soft lips halfway. The kiss is painfully slow, the kind that doesn’t ask for anything except to stay a little longer. When he finally pulls back, his forehead comes to rest against mine, and we just stand there, breathing the same air.

Somewhere across the room, Sunny Buns meows loudly, completely unimpressed. Mr. Ned doesn’t even open his eyes. I laugh, a real one, forgiving and a little surprised, and Rydker smiles against my hair like he’s been waiting for exactly that.

"Stay for a bit?" I offer. It comes out easily because everything about him feels natural.

"Wasn’t leaving," he responds.

Rydker’s deep brown eyes are doing it again. You know, the thing where they make my brain short-circuit, and all my common sense packs its bags and leaves town? I am approximately two seconds away from making a decision I absolutely will not regret, when a knock on my back door brings back my common sense with a label, ‘Return to sender.’

“Oh.” I step back, trying to look like a responsible, put-together person and not a woman who was just two seconds away from undressing the man standing in front of me. “That must be my bakery delivery.” My hand slips out of Rydker's hair. The cold air rushes in to fill the space between us, and I hate it immediately. “I'll get the baked goods if you open up the front? The sandwich board is next to the front door,” I say, pointing to the sign. Okay, good, yes, chores.

Sunny Buns winds herself around his ankles with zero shame. Traitor. He looks down at her with that grumpy expression of his, the one I can't quite read, no matter how hard I try. With a sharp nod, he responds with a simple, “Okay.” Stepping closer to my body, without any warning, without any hesitation, he cups the back of my head and presses a kiss to my forehead. His soft lips send a zapping feeling down my spine. And him kissing me? It’s the most natural thing in the world. That handsome man is already heading for the door and setting out the sandwich board sign before I remember how to breathe. I press my fingers to the spot he’d kissed, still warm, and feel something flutter low in my stomach.

Okay. So that happened. There, he kissed me, like we’re a thing now. Are we? We’ve known each other for like…two seconds. I feel the slight wetness and a flutter in my stomach, and also the rapid pulse in my neck.

The café’s regulars start trickling in, and the café fills up with the kind of easy chatter that makes me fall in love with Maple Lane Falls all over again. Greg comes in with his usual smile, settles into his favorite chair, with my local black kitty resident following him. Greg waves off a second cup, and as he polishes off the last bite of his morning muffin, he says, "I'll settle up and head out. Those leaves aren't going to rake themselves, and the wind's already picking up." The gentle breeze outside lifts the leaves off the ground, sending a few dried maple leaves plunking against the front windows.

Sunny Buns had curled up right beside Greg’s feet at some point, because she always knows. I don't know how she does it, some kind of feline sixth sense for people who need a little extra fur on their pants, but she does. The holidays are coming, and I have a feeling Greg can use all the cat fur he can get.

"Glad you stopped by, Greg. Handing out candy for Halloween this year?" I ask, smiling as I reach for his empty dishes.

Rydker materializes beside me. I genuinely don’t know how a man that size moves so quietly. Those eyes find mine as he lifts the dishes right out of my hands, causing a shiver to shoot down my spine. I watch him round the counter and set them in the sink. I really need to stop noticing things like that, or start, I don’t know. This man has me all in a tizzy.

"That's a good man there, Miss Kitty," Greg remarks for only me to hear, but with his hearing failing, it’s not exactly a whisper. Greg's hearing is slowly declining. His volume, however, is not. My heart does something embarrassing and completely unhelpful when I catch a small smile tugging at the corner of Rydker's mouth. Maybe, given the little twinkle in Greg’s eye as he tips his hat toward Rydker and shuffles out, he's said it loud on purpose. Men. It seems like he’s meddling.

The door swings open, and Greg steps out as Truman ducks through it because he always has to duck through doors. The man is built, with broad shoulders and a no-nonsense haircut. He volunteers at the shelter, helps me out here and there whenever I need an extra hand; he is a Maple Lane Falls staple. He steps aside to let Greg out, smiling and saying a friendly hello. Allie sweeps in right behind Truman; she is always a burst of energy and color. Allie is a social media influencer, which sounds like a made-up job. Her cell is already out, smile wide, enthusiasm so contagious it should probably come with a warning label. Being around her, you can’t help but giggle and smile.

“Hi, Kitty! Say hello to all my fans!” she calls out the second she crosses the threshold. Her cell is already pointed in my direction. Truman rests his hand on the small of her back like that’s just where his hand lives now.

My face heats in approximately zero seconds. “Hello,” I manage, which, given that I am suddenly being broadcast to however many thousands of strangers, I think I do pretty well for myself.

Allie doesn’t miss a beat. A clever girl, that one. She flips the cell camera back to herself. “This is Kitty’s Cat Café, people! The only place for miles where you can sip incredible, yummy coffee, eat the best muffins of your life from Frosted Dreams Bakery, and have a cat judge you from across the room. It’s so on-brand, and I cannot believe a town as small as Maple Lane Falls is hiding this gem.” She pauses and flips her hair, “Okay, here’s the best part.” She starts panning the cell around the café. “Each cat has a collar that lets the customer know their availability by their color. Blue means the cat still needs a home. Green means—” She pauses and looks at me.

“They’ve been adopted,” I contribute, smiling, “and are just waiting for their humans to come pick them up.”

Allie’s smile widens. “And red means not available, I think, or, like, proceed with caution.” She looks back at me for confirmation.