Page 6 of Autumn at the Cat Cafe

Then she came to her senses and called downstairs. Birdie was a retired nurse and EMT. She’d know what to do. She arrived in minutes, and Leo had come to for a split second while they were dragging him to the couch. Then he passed out again.

Luna perched on the blue-and-white granny square afghan draped over the back of the couch. With the main door shut downstairs, there was nowhere else to go.

Birdie peered over him. Her ensemble was totally turquoise—kerchief, sweatshirt, and sweatpants. Her tennis shoes even had two turquoise stripes along the side. Unlike Via, Birdie liked to match. “Handsome fella, isn’t he?”

“I hadn’t noticed.” He seemed peaceful in repose, quietly snoring. Was that a good sign? Must be, since Birdie wasn’t concerned.

“When he wakes up, give him a glass of water.” Birdie slung Luna over her shoulder and headed for the door.

“You think he’s dehydrated?”

“Possibly. Always good to have fluids at hand. If he starts acting weird, I’ll come back up.”

“What do you mean, weird?”

“You’ll know.”

Birdie left with Luna in tow, and Via filled a glass with cold water from the pitcher in the fridge, set it on the coffee table, then sank into the papasan chair across from her purple plaid couch. The owner of the thrift store in Mentor thought she was crazy for buying it, but he was also glad to get it off his hands. To no one’s surprise, the market for purple plaid sofas was microscopic.

She continued to observe Leo. Did he have a concussion? She couldn’t see any lumps on his forehead, and she didn’t have any idea where she’d actually hit him with the lamp. Maybe the bump was hidden in his hair.

Kneeling beside him, she carefully brushed back a few locks. She’d lied big-time to Birdie. Of course she noticed Leo was handsome.Gorgeouswas a better descriptor. His hair was soft against her fingertips as she lightly felt around for a possible bump. For his safety only. The fact that she was enjoying touching him a little too much didn’t matter. Her fingers moved deeper, deeper—

His hypnotic green eyes flew open and locked on hers.

She didn’t move. She could hear him breathing. Feel his pulse hammering. Or was she hearing her own quick, soft breaths and sensing her pulsing heartbeat?

Then he blinked. Twice. The second time his eyes narrowed, much like they had when they first met. “What are you doing?”

She jumped back. “You passed out. I wanted to make sure you didn’t have a bump...”

He arched a questioning brow, then glanced down at his prone body. “How did I get here?”

“Birdie helped me.”

“Who?” He started to sit up, then grimaced. “Never mind. My head is killing me.”

“So I did give you a concussion.”

“I doubt it.” He moved to sit up again, this time more slowly.

“How do you know?”

“The lampshade hit my shoulder.” When he was upright he added, “I barely felt it.”

“Oh.” Well, that was a good thing. She’d been certain she bashed him in the head. Relieved, she handed him the glass of water. “Here. Have a drink.”

He finished half of it in one gulp. “Got any aspirin?”

She nodded and went to the kitchen, pulling open one of two junk drawers where she kept the medicine, then gave him the bottle. As he opened the top, she noticed his nice hands, with long, slender fingers and clean, well-shaped nails. Everything about him was so put together. Almost like he’d walked straight off a magazine cover.

“Thanks.” He gulped down the pills with the rest of the water and handed her the glass and bottle.

“Do you need some more?”

“I need to go to Uncle Earl’s.” He started to rise, only to sway a little and fall back against the couch. He muttered a curse under his breath, then glanced up. “Sorry.”

She peered down at him. “When was the last time you slept?”