“Play it up? No way. Let’s just hope this dies out fast. This is just…”

  Bonnie faded to silence, unable to articulate why this bothered her so much. Her mother might not be on Twitter, but someone in the family surely was. She could hear the comments now—Everyone else seems to be finding love in that café of yours. Why can’t you?

  She put the phone on the table. “A website is great, but I’d better not see little cupids flying around on it. The cats are what matter here. They’re not just fluffy bits of decor in a trendy club.”

  Jerome held up his hands in a sign of surrender. “No cupids, I promise. Too bad, though.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Those two customers over there have been glancing at each other and smiling for the past hour. I was thinking we could have a whole page dedicated to couples that met here and the cats they adopted together.”

  Bonnie shook her head. “I think I liked you more when I thought you were messaging your friends or playing games than I do now that I know you’re plotting to turn the café into a meat market.”

  He laughed. “Maybe we could have a blind date kind of event. Customers can draw the name of their date and a cat out of a hat, then have a coffee together.”

  Bonnie picked up Sasha and handed her to Jerome. “I’m going to put out the lunch menu,” she said, walking away from his gleeful laughter.

  She was going to go about her day like normal. Serving lunch—nothing heart-shaped on the menu—and taking care of cats. Hopefully, by this evening the whole fiasco would have blown over, and Sumner’s online population would move on to something new.

  Love was fine, and she was happy for Lex and Marty. A website focused on the cats and the baked goods was also okay. But too much attention on the café might lead to more attention on her than she was willing to accept. Spotlights tended to bring forward embarrassing shadows from the past, and Bonnie wanted nothing more than to avoid that altogether.

  Chapter Four

  Taryn exited off Highway 410 and drove alongside the train tracks and toward Sumner’s main street, which was actually named Main Street.

  It was a nice town, with both quaint and modern characteristics that made it appealing to tourists and locals alike, but even though it was only about ten minutes from her Puyallup home, Taryn rarely came here. If she turned right when she left her office, she could find a large indoor mall and nearly any chain store or restaurant she desired on Meridian Ave. Turn left, and she had her pick of one-of-a-kind shops and restaurants in downtown Puyallup. Sumner offered the same variety of establishments, just on a smaller scale.

  Taryn drove past the vast yard of a farm supply store, with its piles of fencing supplies and huge watering troughs, before turning away from the river and entering Sumner’s business district. She knew if she continued along this road, she’d find fast-food places and some department stores, but the first few blocks of Main Street had a carefully cultivated old-fashioned feel.

  Taryn had expected the café to be something tiny, wedged among the antique stores and clothing boutiques. She was surprised to find, instead, a two-story Craftsman style home on a corner lot, which must have been the very edge of town at one point. The house was painted a soft peach color with white trim that looked ready for a touch-up, and bright yellow daffodils and small shoots of pale green hosta leaves filled the tiny gardens alongside the entrance. The effect was quite charming, helped in no small part by the woman who was bending down next to a chalkboard placard. She was wearing faded jeans and a short-sleeved sky-blue top, and her blond hair fell in a soft wave just to the line of her chin.

  Taryn wrenched her attention back to the road, grateful for the quiet morning streets. She had noticed far too many details, letting her gaze linger on the woman for more moments than were safe.

  She took the next side street and circled around the block before parking a few doors from the café and getting out of her SUV. She walked along the sidewalk that was lined with ornamental cherry trees, carefully stepping over the huge cracks where their roots had lifted the concrete. The culprit trees were beautiful, regardless of the damage they were doing, with their gnarled, lichen-covered trunks and velvety little leaves. Most of the pale pink blossoms were strewn on the ground, though. The blooms rarely lasted long around here, since frequent spring rain and wind tore them from their branches almost as soon as the petals opened.

  This would be a perfect time of year for the wedding, with guests arriving along this fairy-tale path of flower petals, but Taryn had a feeling any season would be just as flattering to this venue. It would be a cozy, fur-filled setting in the winter, or redolent with the scent of pumpkin spice lattes in the fall. And summer would bring even more colorful flowers than just the pretty spring daffodils.

  The woman in front of the café stood up as Taryn approached. She had a friendly though somewhat reserved-looking smile and pale blue eyes. Maybe leaning toward green? Taryn had a feeling they would change color depending on the woman’s mood and what she was wearing. She would complement the setting no matter which season Marty and Lex chose for their wedding, adding to the charm of the café.

  The house and area were beautiful, and the woman who seemed to belong there was even more so. As far as Taryn was concerned, the only real drawback to having the wedding here was the cats. She had planned plenty of weddings at zoos and farms, but then the animals were usually separated from the guests. Timmy the turtle was one of the exceptions, but he was unlikely to climb on the counters and shed fur onto the appetizers. Still, it was not her wedding. If her clients wanted a houseful of cats, they were getting them.

  “Hello,” Taryn said. She gestured at the sign next to the door. “Are you Bonnie?”

  “Yes, I am,” Bonnie said, shaking the hand Taryn offered with only a slight hesitation. She probably didn’t regularly have customers approaching her in such a businesslike manner, and Taryn sensed that she needed to alter her approach slightly.

  “I’m Taryn,” she said, omitting her surname at the last moment since Bonnie hadn’t offered hers, and to make herself seem more like a casual patron than someone who would really prefer to get this matter settled in time to find a less furry place for lunch.

  She had been relieved to see the shop listed on Sumner’s Chamber of Commerce site as Bonnie’s Cat Café. She had been worried it would be the Kittens and Bows Tea Salon or something equally ridiculous that she would have a hard time saying without laughing. At least this name showed its owner’s practical side. We’re a café. We have cats. Period.

  Of course, the cartoon cat and mice drawings on the chalkboard menu next to Bonnie revealed a more whimsical side. Taryn found it a bit alarming to have mice on any piece of advertising for a dining establishment. Not that this place would be likely to have a mouse problem for long, given its residents, but still…

  Taryn skimmed over the rest of the menu, not really interested since she wouldn’t be staying, then did a double take. “Oh, rhubarb pie. That’s my favorite.”

  “Freshly baked this morning,” Bonnie said, with a warm hint of pride in her voice. She put her hand on the doorknob. “Were you just passing by, or coming in?”

  “Coming in, please,” Taryn said, walking into the foyer when Bonnie opened the door for her. She waited for Bonnie to shut the outer door—several very conspicuous signs demanded she do so—and then went into the café’s main room.

  Taryn was momentarily distracted by the scent of baked goods—delicious—and the sight of all the cats—there really were a lot of them!—but her years of experience in this job kicked in, and she analyzed the room in moments.

  How they would arrange the tables.

  Where Marty and Lex would sit.

  Where the aisle and altar would be best situated.

  She saw the room with an overlay of the wedding as if she had a window to the future. The café would require very little in the way of decorations. The walls, containers full of toys, and comfy chairs were bright with a variety of pastel colors, eased by the beige cat trees and richly brown wooden tables. The cats were all sorts of colors, dotted here and there on beds or customer’s laps. They wouldn’t even need to add flowers, which was good since the cats would probably destroy them, or she’d buy the wrong kind and poison them, and neither of those outcomes would enhance the wedding.

  “Did you want to order, or are you looking for someone?” Bonnie asked, and Taryn realized she had been motionless for longer than it should take for a customer to locate the counter.

  “Yes, but first I want to…oh…well…” Taryn’s voice faltered to a stop as she felt a weight thump onto her foot. She looked down and found a cat stretched across her shoe, making kneading motions in the air with its paws and occasionally snagging on her black pants. The cat was white, with a few funny round patches of striped fur. Its tail was the same striped pattern, as was the jaunty little beret-shaped marking on its head. Unfortunately, only the white fur seemed to be shedding, and Taryn now had a swath of it across her hemline.

  “That’s Sasha,” Bonnie said. “Wow, she seems quite taken with you. It’s like you have a special bond.”

  “Really?” Taryn asked, forgetting to hide the disbelief in her voice until the word was out. Was this the usual hard sell approach to making customers adopt cats, or was she going to have to break a feline heart today? Taking the cat home was certainly not an option. She tried to subtly shift her foot, but the cat was like a dead weight on her shoe.

  Bonnie laughed. “No, sorry. She loves everyone. Luckily, she has a thick skin and won’t be offended by the horrified expression you had on your face when I said that. Don’t worry, adoption isn’t a requirement for getting a piece of pie.”

  Taryn tried to deny it, but she couldn’t help joining in Bonnie’s laughter. This playful side of her seemed at odds with the way Taryn had felt her holding herself at a slight distance during the rest of their interaction.

  “I was dubious, not horrified,” Taryn said, directing her comment in the cat’s direction with a smile.

  “Are you more of a dog person than a cat person?” Bonnie asked.

  Neither was obviously not an acceptable answer. Not that Taryn actively disliked either one—she was just neutral on the subject of all pets. They were for other people. Her present life was too busy for her to take on the responsibility of an animal, and her childhood…well, pets deserved a happy home, didn’t they?

  “No,” she fibbed. “I love cats. They’re so independent.” Taryn parroted back the phrase she had heard from every cat owner she had ever met. She looked down at Sasha, who was purring so deeply Taryn could feel the vibrations of it moving up her leg. “Well, except this one.”

  Bonnie bent down and picked up the cat, brushing her shoulder against Taryn’s thigh as she stood up again. She quickly stepped away. “But first…?” she prompted.

  Taryn took a moment to regain the thread of their conversation, caught by surprise at the loss of warmth on her foot and the very different sort of heat Bonnie had inadvertently trailed across her leg.

  “Oh. Yes. I actually came by because I’m a wedding planner. Martin Hannah, your mayor, and his partner Lex would love to rent your café for their wedding, so I was hoping we could sort out the details.”

  Bonnie’s expressions had been mild so far—a little cool, a little playful—but now she closed herself off from Taryn with an unmistakable decisiveness, like a slamming door.

  Taryn nearly stepped back in surprise but caught herself in time and kept her own expression neutral. She had expected Bonnie to be flattered. Proud, maybe, to be singled out by the mayor. Borderline angry, though? That hadn’t even crossed Taryn’s mind. Maybe she was vehemently opposed to him politically, but that didn’t seem to be a likely reason for her to be reacting this way. Marty and Lex had made it sound as if they had been regular, welcome customers here.

  “So you’re responsible for the Tweets,” Bonnie said coolly.

  “What? I’m on Twitter, but only for business. Promotions, that sort of thing.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened the Twitter app. “What am I looking for?”

  Before Bonnie had a chance to answer, Taryn figured it out. She was tagged in Marty’s original post, and she scanned the responses. “He mentions the café,” she said, scrolling as she tried to locate whatever comment had made Bonnie bristle. “The responses seem kind of cute. Good advertising for you, at least. Oh, the grocery store one is funny. Let me know which post offended you, and I’ll take care of it.”

  Bonnie shook her head. “Funny? It’s not funny to have people treating my café like the town’s hot romance spot.”

  Bonnie’s voice had risen slightly in pitch, and Taryn automatically lowered her own. “I hardly think that’s going to happen. You might get one or two people who come here hoping to find love, but I doubt your cat café will replace online dating or clubs. Although, maybe you could pitch a new show to a TV network. Sort of like The Bachelor. You could call it Brewing Love at the Cat Café.” Taryn laughed, then put her hand to her mouth to try to hide it when Bonnie’s glower increased. Something about her frown seemed a bit forced now, though. It was almost too belligerent, as if Bonnie was maybe trying to hide a smile of her own behind the threatening expression.

  “Sorry, sorry,” Taryn said, schooling her features back to neutral. She was usually a pro at playing the role of cool and emotionless wedding planner, but something about Bonnie made her filters malfunction. “I know, it’s not funny. I can talk to Marty and have him tone down the lovey-dovey stuff next time he mentions your café. Maybe he can post a correction. Say he mistyped, and they actually fell in love at the gas station down the street.”

  “The smell of gasoline will give the wedding a nice cosmopolitan touch,” Bonnie said, setting Sasha down and crossing her arms over her chest. “Please tell Marty and Lex I’m sorry, but we can’t accommodate a wedding here. I’ll be sure to give them a free celebratory coffee and pastry next time they stop by.”

  “Okay,” Taryn said, abruptly switching tactics. Bonnie raised her eyebrows, obviously surprised that Taryn was giving up so easily.

  Of course, Taryn wasn’t giving up at all, just redirecting. One lesson she had learned very well was that a yes was lurking behind every no. She just had to regroup and figure out how to access the response she wanted.

  “I know a lost cause when I see one. I’ll just have some of your rhubarb pie and a…” She glanced at the main drink menu on the wall behind the counter and finished her order with only the tiniest hesitation. “And a meow-cha, please.”

  “Fine. Have a seat, and we’ll bring it out to you. Did you want to sit in our new singles section, or do you see another customer you like? I’ll be happy to make the introductions.”

  Taryn had a keen sense of precisely how far most people’s personal-space bubbles extended, and she deliberately stepped just inside of Bonnie’s. “Well, you’re kind of cute. Care to join me?”

  Bonnie huffed, not moving away from Taryn. “Given that my reason for declining this wedding is because I don’t want you turning my café into Tinder With Cats, I hardly think that flirting with me is the way to get what you want.”

  Unless Bonnie was what she wanted, which she most definitely was not. She just managed to bring out those parts of Taryn she usually had an easy time repressing. Taryn eased back. “What can I say? I can’t resist a challenge. I’ll do my best to recover from your rejection and just pick a random seat. Let destiny work its magic.”

  “Good luck with that,” Bonnie said, turning away and heading over to the counter.

  Taryn picked a table along the back wall, far from the other two customers, and Sasha hopped onto her lap the moment she sat down. Taryn looked up to see Bonnie watching her with raised eyebrows, as if daring Taryn to evict the cat. Taryn just shrugged, not taking the bait. Aside from it being a point of pride not to let Bonnie know she wasn’t completely comfortable around animals, Sasha was a tiny little thing, barely a significant weight on her lap. She’d be practically unnoticeable if not for her warm body and unexpectedly throaty purr. Taryn would be cleaning white fur off these pants later anyway, so what was a little more?

  Besides, far more disturbing than little Sasha was the large orange cat perched on a carpet-covered ledge on the far wall that was staring at her as if he was a tiger and she the baby wildebeest in a nature documentary.

  She looked away from the cat when the young man who had been working the espresso machine brought her a plate with a generous wedge of pie and a drink with a smiling cat head stenciled on the foam in cocoa powder. After she thanked him, she glanced back to where the cat had been, but now it was on the ground and a few feet closer to her, still sitting in the same half-crouched pose as if it had materialized in the new position.

  She scooped up a forkful of pie and ate it, mostly forgetting about Ninja Cat as her taste buds exploded with flavors that epitomized spring in the Northwest. Tart, cinnamony rhubarb chunks melted in her mouth, balanced by the buttery, flaky pastry with its interesting layer of sugary crunch. If the orange cat killed her now, she’d die happy and fulfilled.

  And if Bonnie was the one who had made this pie, Taryn was going to insist that she do the catering for the wedding, which she had no doubt would take place here. Bonnie might not want her café to be known as a place to find romance, but Taryn did want to be known as the wedding planner who could work miracles.

  And when it came to a contest of stubbornness and determination, she’d back herself every time.

  Chapter Five

  “And she actually expected me to say yes!” Bonnie continued, recounting her meeting with that wedding planner to her friend Viv Meriwether at brunch the following Sunday.