“Jesus Christ,” Marius swore, sliding across the tile floor to scoop me into his arms and haul me to the door. “You have too many goddamn cats, woman.”
26
MARIUS
“Ican’t.” The firefighters straight up refused to go into the café. “I don’t get paid enough.”
One of the firefighters had grabbed the gun before running back out into the cold to describe the horror scene in a panicky voice.
“On Facebook, they’re saying the cats took her eyes,” one firefighter said as his partner started to unwind the hose off the big red fire truck.
“You all are here,” I argued with them. “You have more information than people posting on Facebook, and who is even posting? And don’t spray that in her shop.”
“Then you go call the cats off.”
Bracing myself, I opened up the door and fished around for the light.
Cora and Rosie were still writhing and screaming as the cats bit and scratched them.
“Moose,” I called, clicking my tongue. “Here, kitty kitty. That’s enough—you’re scaring the firefighters.”
The Bengal cat hissed, ignoring me.
“Costco is still open, and I’ll buy you all giant cans of tuna…”
That got their attention.
One pretty blue-eyed white cat with blood stains on her fur pranced through the café, purring, and rubbed against Moose, who seemed all too happy to let her clean him up.
“Dammit, I think I’m getting another cat,” I said as the firefighters, squinty eyed, gave the cats perched on tables and chairs a wide berth.
The cats watched with keen interest as the EMTs loaded Cora and Rosie, moaning and bleeding, onto stretchers.
“Kris Kringle’s balls.” Emmie leaned against me.
I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her face, her hands, her mouth, her nose. “I love you, Emmie.”
“You just met me.”
“Nothing like a near-death experience to let you know what matters most.”
She smiled up at me, her eyes sparkling. “Okay, that’s it,” she gushed.
“What?” I said, concerned.
“I just fell in love with you.”
I kissed her.
“I’m never letting you out of my sight. And I’m going to kill the next woman who touches you,” Emmie promised.
I kissed her hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt you. Please forgive me,” I begged, still holding her as tight as I could to my chest.
“I’m not mad at you. You had a lot going on.” Emmie looked around at the mess. “I guess I’m closed for the season. This is going to be a nightmare to clean up.”
A bus roared down Main Street. Firefighters dove out of the way, and the bus almost hit the truck and screeched to a halt. A stream of seniors poured out.
“Damn, I missed it,” Emmie’s grandmother complained.
