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"Here we are," they told the cats.
River kept up a steady stream of chatter to keep them calm during set-up. Once the cages were WD-40ed, the short leg of the table was shimmed with a folded-up coffee cup, and the cats were settled with food and toys, River filled their water dishes in the bathroom.
When they returned, Rye was playing with the kitten named Orange and someone had claimed the red-draped table next to theirs.
The Reserved card and the candy cane were gone. In their place was a heavy wooden sign that appeared to be hand-carved. But River couldn’t focus on the handiwork, because all they could see was the word TAXIDERMY. And on the table beside it, staring up at them, was the mounted head of a buffalo.
"Jesus fucking Christ."
"I know," Rye said. "Like, did they put us next to each other because we both deal with animals?"
"I don’t know if that’s logical or ghoulish."
"Why choose? Hey, okay, just try this, would you?" He held out a traveler mug of coffee. "Please, just one sip? I don’t get it."
Rye had a particular expression at times that made him look like a lost little boy.
River took the coffee from him and sipped.
Instantly, they regretting being susceptible to people’s feelings.
"Okay, that’s not a good face," Rye said. "Just, like, I’m a good cook!"
He was.
"I make good cocktails."
He did. Very strong, but good.
"But you all hate my coffee and I feel like I’m losing my mind because it tastes totally normal to me."
"I don’t know, Rye, it’s just bad. It’s too bitter, it tastes a little burnt, and it makes my tongue sad."
River shook his head slowly and took the mug back.
"Here, taste mine," River offered.
Rye took a sip from their thermos.
"This tastes like candy," he said.
"It tastes like correctly brewed coffee with cream and sugar in it."
River said, "You can put cream and sugar in this coffee, I just don’t like it that way."
"Well, fortunately you run a cat shelter and not a coffee shop, so maybe let’s leave the coffee to Cameron and focus on the cats."
Rye muttered something under his breath, but got back to setting up the display. River went in search of the bag full of toys they’d brought, and realized they’d left it in the van.
"I’ll be back in a minute," they told Rye.
The bag was caught under the seat and River extracted it with a triumphant yank.
The bag came free, but they teetered backward right along with it, bracing for the impact of the icy pavement. But it didn’t come. Instead, they smacked into something a lot warmer and a lot more animate.
"Oh, shit, I’m so sorry," they said to whomever they’d just body-checked.
"You all right, River?"
They looked up to see that the person they’d run into was none other than Cassidy Darling.
In the light, he was stunning. Strong brows and a straight nose and that beard that made him look dapper as hell.
Cassidy looked down at them with those intelligent brown eyes, just like he had at the cat shelter last week and all the sounds in the parking lot faded into the background. All they could feel was the pounding of their heart.
"Yeah. Sorry," River said.
"Good. How’s the cat?"
True to their word, River had texted Cassidy the morning after he brought the cat in to let him know that the vet said it looked like she was going to be fine. His hearty and quick response was, Excellent! I’m so glad to imagine her safe with you.
It was possible that River might have looked at it a couple of times in the intervening week.
"She’s doing well. That little tip of her ear that Molly thinks was frostbitten has fallen off and she didn’t even seem to notice."
Cassidy smiled warmly at the news.
"Good."
River stood, unsure what to say next. When nothing came to mind, they locked the van and turned to walk back toward the convention center. Cassidy walked with them.
"And how are you?" he asked.
"Pretty good. I’m here with the shelter, trying to get cats adopted. Only it turns out our table is next to some Daniel Boone weirdo who stuffs animals for fun. So when children are playing with one of the cute little kitties, they can look over and imagine it being stuffed and its head mounted on someone’s wall."
River wasn’t quite awake yet and that comment had come out snarkier than they’d intended.
"Anyway, what are you doing here? Are you a Craftmas superfan?"
River was mostly joking—Cassidy wasn’t dressed in red and green, nor did he sport any novelty Christmas accessories. But then again, the same could be said of River.
"I am a fan," Cassidy said slowly. "It’s my most lucrative event of the year."
Thank god. River hadn’t thought Cassidy seemed the type, but they reminded themself that they didn’t actually know anything about him.
