Snowed In at the Cat Cafe

Book 0: A Cat Café Romance

by Rachel Rowlands

Genres: Clean & Wholesome Romance; Holiday Romance; New Adult Romance; Romantic Comedy

Synopsis

Welcome to the Cat Café! Falling in love with cats is mandatory. Falling in love with a human is optional...

When Emmie's aunt offers her a job at Catpurrcino, it is the fresh start she needs after a rough year. Now, in the lead-up to Christmas, Emmie can't imagine anything more purr-fect than pouring hot chocolate for customers and taking care of the café's many feline residents.

Needing an extra pair of hands for the holidays, Emmie's aunt hires Jared as a driver. Emmie is immediately struck by how tall and handsome he is, but there is something guarded about Jared, not to mention his allergy to cats. Emmie could never fall for someone who can't be around her furry friends ­- and she doesn't have much time to spare, anyway.

Until an unexpected blizzard arrives on Christmas Eve.

Trapped in the café with Jared and the cats, Emmie discovers Jared has been holding on to more than one secret - and is in desperate need of someone to help him lay his past to rest.

What seems like the most disastrous Christmas might not be such a cat-astrophe after all. Will being snowed in finally open Jared up and let Emmie into his heart?

Pour yourself a mulled wine and settle down with a mince pie to enjoy this warm, witty and wonderful festive romance. Perfect for fans of The Pumpkin Spice Café, Sarah Morgan and Catherine Walsh.

Release date: September 12, 2024

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 304

Sample

Chapter 1

Jared was so distracted by what he was seeing, he nearly crashed the car into the bollards as he pulled into the car park around the side of the café. He squeezed into a space, the radio blaring out a roar of music. He blinked, and told himself he simply hadn’t had enough coffee this morning. Either that, or the grief was making him see things that ­weren’t there.

Killing the car’s engine and pushing a button on the side of his phone, he checked the time, feeling the wave of sadness he always felt when he saw his phone background. A whiskered tortoiseshell face stared back at him from the screen – Poppy, rolling in a patch of sunshine spilling in through the windows of his flat. Her loving feline eyes were enough to make his stomach clench, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to change the background.

Swallowing and shoving the phone in his pocket, he clicked the radio off and clambered out of the warmth of the car, into the cold air, making his way back round to the front of the café.

Jared stopped, his breath catching. He hadn’t been seeing things at all.

Catpurrcino, the sign above the café proclaimed. The cartoonish logo to the side of the sign showed a wide-eyed cat poking its head from a cup of coffee. Its paws were pressed to its rosy cheeks in delight. The building was all red-brown brickwork, like much of Oakside, and gleaming Christmas fairy lights had been strung up on the trees outside, sparkling and winking. A beige-and-white awning drooped down over the windows, but there was no outdoor seating set out. It was far too cold to sit outside this close to Christmas, even with a hot drink and a million layers bundled on. A chalkboard sign, the top shaped like cat ears, proclaimed the cost of entry.

This had to be a joke. He should turn around and head straight back to his car, overdraft and unpaid bills be damned. The Christmas decorations were making his stomach hurt. He’d hoped she’d at least make it to Christmas before . . . But she hadn’t.

Jared was about to spin on his heels when the café door jangled open, and a woman wearing an apron – decorated with chubby cats, because of course it was – stepped outside. Underneath the apron, she wore a long-sleeved turtleneck jumper and black trousers. Her curly auburn hair was piled high in a messy bun, held in place by a clip shaped like white-and-pink cat’s paws.

‘Jared Beck?’ said the woman, beaming at him, her entire face lighting up and crinkling her cheeks and the corners of her eyes. She shivered in the cold, rubbing her hands together to keep the chill of winter at bay. ‘I thought it must be you – I was sitting in the window.’

She pointed to the wide windows, where some customers were sitting hunched over hot chocolates laden with sprinkles and frothy coffees. Behind them was a complicated cat tower, rising in sections, so high it nearly reached the ceiling. A black cat was snoozing on top.

‘I’m Sylvie Lindsay,’ the woman continued. ‘It’s so nice to meet you in person. Have you been here before? It’s quite relaxing inside – I’m sure we can find somewhere to sit and chat where we won’t be disturbed.’ She was talking fast, hardly pausing for breath, and he could barely process the words.

‘Uh, hi. My brother . . .’ Jared spluttered.

‘Oh, Shane!’ She grinned. ‘His wife Danni comes in here all the time for our book club. I’ve only met him once or twice though – always busy, isn’t he? He said you’d be perfect for the job. Why don’t you come in? We’ll catch our deaths out here. I can introduce you to Emmie, my niece – she’s new here, living in the flat above the shop—’

Jared let her chatter on about her niece, talking fast, but he was barely listening. What was his brother thinking? He knew what had happened to Poppy, only weeks ago, and how hard the last few months dealing with his cat’s decline had been. And his brother had sent him here?

‘Actually . . .’ he said slowly. ‘My brother didn’t even mention that this was a cat café.’

That finally made Sylvie slow down and take a breath. Her nose was turning red in the cold, as if she should be heading up Santa’s sleigh rather than a café. She folded her arms, stuffing her fingers beneath her armpits to keep them warm. ‘He didn’t?’

‘Nope.’

‘Is that a problem?’ she asked. ‘I understand it’s not for everyone . . . But our other driver left quite suddenly for personal reasons, and we’re in a pinch, it being the holiday season and all . . .’

His teeth were grinding together so hard they’d be dust if he carried on. The unpaid overdraft, the bills, the financial mess he’d got himself into . . . The last thing he wanted was to end up evicted from his home, and the scraps of freelance work that his graphic design career had been reduced to weren’t cutting it anymore. He hadn’t even been able to land any other interviews recently – even the Christmas temp jobs had been snapped up. And he’d bought all his Christmas presents for his mum and brother, and extended family, on his credit card.

His eyes drifted to the café window. A cat had hopped up on one of the unoccupied armchairs and was perched on the back, watching the wind wave the bare branches of a tree around like a splayed hand. The cat looked so similar to Poppy, with its splotchy black and ginger face. The cat even had the same marking over her nose – a tiny ginger splodge – except she was a calico with an underlayer of white, rather than a tortoiseshell. His stomach performed a strange leap.

His mother – ever the mystic – would say it was a sign. He wasn’t sure if he believed in them. The only sign that would be hanging over him soon would be an eviction notice and DEBT in big red letters, if he didn’t sort himself out.

‘Jared?’ Sylvie prompted.

‘Sorry,’ he replied. He shuffled his feet to prompt some warmth. This was just delivery driving and the pay was enough to supplement his freelance income if he got the job; if he was clever here, maybe he didn’t have to set foot inside at all?

The cat in the window fixed its pair of beautiful green eyes on him. The pull he felt in his chest was unmistakable; it was the same tug he got when he spotted a cat in the street and couldn’t resist pausing to give it a rub behind the ears.

‘Ah – that’s Lilian. Rather beautiful, isn’t she?’ said Sylvie, glancing over to the window at the cat.

‘She is,’ he replied, and his heart twisted. It might not be so bad, so long as he could keep his distance. ‘I’m actually . . . ah . . . allergic to cats,’ he said.

‘You’re allergic . . . and your brother didn’t tell you this was a cat café?’ Sylvie said hesitantly.

‘He always forgets,’ said Jared.

When had he turned into such a liar? Immediately, he felt guilty, a prickling sensation starting in his scalp. Once, when he was still a chef, a customer had left a fancy watch on the table and he’d found it later that night when they were closing up. They’d waited to see if the guy came back, but he never did, and his boss said he could keep it, since the man was so complimentary about Jared’s food anyway. Jared had felt so guilty about it that in the end, he’d given it to a charity shop.

It wasn’t like he was lying about anything major today, though. Not like Megan . . .

There was no going back now, not if he wanted a job.

‘We didn’t have pets growing up, so it slips his mind. It’s not severe enough that I wouldn’t be able to handle deliveries,’ he added quickly. His palms were warm now. ‘I just can’t come inside and be around the animals.’

‘How awful – being allergic to cats! I can’t think of anything worse, but I suppose you don’t miss out, if you don’t know what you’re missing!’ Sylvie said brightly, giving him a radiant smile. ‘Why don’t you come round the back?’ She gestured back the way he’d come, round the side of the café. ‘The cats don’t come into the staffroom at all. We can chat in there.’

‘Sure,’ said Jared. He knew it was stupid; the words had just slipped out to make this situation more bearable.

They headed across the car park and to the area that was reserved for deliveries only, thick white lines painted on the concrete. He waited until Sylvie opened the back doors and waved him inside.

‘This way,’ she said, tugging off her apron.

He followed Sylvie out of the cold, through a narrow corridor and into a cheerful staffroom painted white and cream, where a break table was set up, surrounded by plastic chairs. Orchestral Christmas tunes were playing dimly somewhere in the distance. A bright blue fridge in the corner was decorated with an abundance of paw-shaped magnets, Christmas greetings cards, and sticky notes with scribbled reminders written on them.

Framed pictures of what Jared presumed were the café’s cats were hanging on the walls: furry faces with long whiskers and wide eyes.

‘Cup of tea?’ Sylvie asked, motioning to a small kitchenette in the corner. ‘Or maybe hot chocolate?’

‘Tea’s fine, with a sugar – thanks,’ he agreed, and shuffled inside.

When she’d finished making the tea, Sylvie set about quizzing him – it was more of a casual chat than a formal job interview, asking about his driver’s licence and explaining the job, which would involve delivering some of the café’s most popular food to locals and businesses.

‘People in Oakside and the surrounding areas love our cat-shaped biscuits, doughnuts, pastries . . .’ Sylvie informed him. ‘We make a lot of profit outside of the café itself, doing delivery orders. We have a very talented baker, Clem, working in the back. It’s thanks to her that our deliveries really took off in the first place.’ She gestured to a brown paper bag on the countertop behind her, stamped with the café’s logo.

Jared raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m surprised you get enough customers to stay open. Especially in the winter.’

‘Oh, we do. Like Ambleside, we have a lot of amenities in Oakside, and this building is near enough to some of the most popular hotels, B&Bs and hostels, and a cracking Christmas tree farm that gets lots of custom this time of year. We do some activities too – quiet art nights, a book club. And . . .’ She grinned, showing teeth. ‘We have a wicked online presence. Tens of thousands of followers, actually. So, people visit us year-round, from all over.’

‘That’s impressive,’ he said. He knew how much work that could be from trying to grow his presence online as a designer. ‘Seems like an odd place to decide to open a cat café – in the Lake District – though. Rather than a city. If you don’t mind me saying.’

‘Ah, you would think so, but it worked out,’ said Sylvie, leaning back in her seat with a nod. ‘We don’t just sell coffee and cake. We want to help people: ease their loneliness, relieve stress, give them a calming sanctuary, like we do for the animals who live here. The world is a hard, stressful place – and we aim to be a comfort. If you can get on board with that mission, you’ll fit right in here.’

An unexpected emotion rose in Jared’s chest that he couldn’t quite untangle – a fullness of sorts. He cleared his throat, trying not to show it. ‘Of course. I . . . ah, may have allergies, but I agree everyone needs something like that. Some relief from the frantic pace of things.’

‘Exactly!’

Despite his misgivings about coming here at first, he couldn’t help but appreciate what Sylvie was trying to do. They talked for another ten minutes or so, draining their cups of tea, Jared detailing his work background. Sylvie told him about their cat caretakers, Sophie and Miles. She also had cat care training, but since she was so busy running the place, they took care of things like enrichment activities for the cats, observing their behaviour to make sure they were happy and healthy, nutritional needs, and grooming and hygiene.

When she’d filled him in on all of that, Sylvie leaned back and said, ‘You have the hospitality experience, certainly. What made you switch over to graphic design?’

‘I always wanted to do something more creative. I fell into kitchen work after high school and did graphics on the side. It’s nice to get out of the house sometimes though,’ he said hurriedly, ‘so I’m looking for something to do alongside freelancing.’ This wasn’t exactly a lie – the emptiness of the house had become unbearable on top of everything else. It almost took him back to . . . No. Don’t think about that.

‘I can understand that. If you’re happy to take the job, we can sort the paperwork out now. We’ll likely only need you about three days a week or so, on our busiest days. And we have a van for you to use on the job – there’ll be no need to use your own car. Does that suit you? There might be more hours later, if you want them.’

Jared hadn’t expected it to be so easy, after failing to get any other interviews. He thought longingly of another non-existent job that might crop up magically . . . but now really wasn’t the time to be that picky.

‘If you need to take some time to think about it—’ Sylvie began.

‘No, I don’t. That works for me,’ he said. ‘Thanks, Sylvie.’

‘Excellent! In that case, welcome aboard. It’s such a shame you can’t meet my niece, Emmie, but she’s working the counter. I’m sure you’ll bump into her soon enough, though.’

I don’t need to bump into any women, either, Jared thought, as they got started on the paperwork. He wasn’t in any kind of position for that – and besides, he knew where that sort of thing would lead.

Megan had taught him that.

*

‘I can’t believe you, Shane,’ Jared said down the phone, but the words were half-hearted and punctuated with a sigh. Underneath his loss, which seemed to blanket everything lately, he recognised that his brother had given him a lifeline he desperately needed, and that meant a lot to him. Regardless, he almost felt guilty that he hadn’t stormed out on Sylvie, as if he’d insulted Poppy’s memory by accepting the job at Catpurrcino.

‘Ah, did it go well, then?’ said Shane, and Jared could hear the grin in his brother’s tone.

‘It went well, yes. You saved my arse.’ He hesitated and added lightly, ‘Arsehole.’

‘Ah, is that a note of affection I detect? I’m a loving arsehole, if anything. If I’d told you the truth, you wouldn’t have gone.’

‘True.’

Jared had already driven away from the café, and had instead pulled in at a lay-by partway between Oakside and Ambleside. The muted green countryside sprawled either side of him, the road framed by a stone wall that stretched on for miles into the hills. A thin layer of mist hung over distant clusters of trees and one of the sparkling lakes, and sheep dotted the landscape like flecks of snow. The sky was a wintry stretch of white and grey, thick with the promise of snowfall.

‘I take it you took the job?’ said Shane.

‘I did take it,’ Jared said. ‘Look, thanks. I appreciate you looking out for me. It might not have been my first choice, but I needed it.’

‘No prob. I don’t want you to be stuck in a mess, not at this time of year.’ His brother hesitated, and Jared could almost hear the unspoken line about how much money he’d spent on the vet bills. ‘I just wanted to help you sort it out.’

‘I know. Thanks, little bro.’

‘Aside from the money, this could be good for you. Since what happened with Megan, you barely leave your flat. You need to get out there again. It’s been six months! Sylvie has a niece—’

Jared snorted at hearing about the niece again. ‘I’m delivery driving, Shane, I won’t have time to stand around and flirt. Besides, Sylvie thinks I’m allergic to cats.’

There was a pause on the other end of the line, filled only with the baa-ing of sheep outside Jared’s car and the whooshing of another vehicle driving through the towering green hills.

Then Shane laughed – the sound threaded with utter disbelief. ‘She what?’

‘Sylvie thinks I’m allergic to cats.’

‘Okay . . . and why exactly does she think that?’

‘I . . .’ Jared hesitated, his ears burning in the aftermath of the lie, which seemed silly now. ‘Well, I just panicked when I got there and told a fib, alright? You never told me it was a cat café and I just reacted.’

‘You reacted? Are you kidding me? I don’t think you can even walk down the street without stopping when you see a cat. A cat café should be your idea of heaven.’

‘Maybe not right now,’ Jared said slowly.

There was a long stretch of silence on the other end of the call. ‘Don’t you think you’re being a bit . . .’ Shane seemed to be struggling for words. Jared could sense what was coming like impending rain; he knew his brother was going to say something he didn’t like. ‘Well, overdramatic?’

‘What?’

‘I just mean—’ Shane cut himself off, made a sound that was equal parts frustrated and thoughtful. ‘I mean, you might be overreacting. You’re acting like you’ve lost a family member. I know Poppy helped you through some rough times, but she was a cat, and you need to try to have some perspective if you—’

Jared’s insides were burning like volcanic ash. He could barely hear the rest of his brother’s sentence over the harsh pounding in his chest and the buzzing in his ears. ‘Are you being serious?’

‘I just meant—’

‘No, wait, Shane. You’re saying that I shouldn’t be grieving because she wasn’t a person? It’s been two weeks. And it’s nearly Christmas.’ Jared tried to keep his voice level even though he felt like his bones were rattling. Why didn’t he understand what a blow this was?

‘Look, I know it’s upsetting, but it’s not the same as losing, say, a parent, is it? You have to put it behind you.’

Jared was clenching his phone so hard he was at risk of shattering the screen. ‘Put it behind me, after two weeks? She was part of my family. I don’t care that she wasn’t a person. She meant a lot to me, and she declined and . . . I know you’ve never been an animal person, so you’ll never understand that sometimes, they mean just as much to us as people do. But you could at least show a bit of tact here.’

Shane was silent. Jared didn’t break the silence, either, allowing the words to sink in.

‘Look, I’m sorry,’ his brother said eventually. ‘I may not understand, but I know she meant a lot to you. I was only trying to help.’

‘I know,’ Jared said. ‘But this isn’t me having a skewed perspective at all. I’ve learned the difference by now.’

Shane gave a thick sigh. ‘I’m just trying to look out for you.’

‘I get that. But you have to trust me when I say this is just life happening. I’m dealing with it. And you know I’d tell you if I felt like I couldn’t cope.’

Another beat of silence. It was like they were dancing around the unspoken, ghostly words hovering between them.

‘Good,’ said Shane, sounding relieved.

‘Listen, I’ll talk to you later, yeah?’ said Jared. ‘I’ve got paperwork to send to Sylvie.’

‘Okay. See ya.’

He swiped at the screen to end the call.

His brother cared, but he didn’t get it. To any cat lover, they were family. He’d got Poppy as a tiny kitten, as soon as he moved out of home, into his very first flat, and she’d never left his side since – that is, right up until a few weeks ago. She’d been with him through all the big milestones. Through his depression, and the rise and fall of his mental health, and starting to work from home. Through a pandemic that saw everyone locked indoors. She was there on his bed every night, there every morning purring; she seemed to know when he felt bad, or was unwell, or when he needed her. She was his little partner in crime. She made the bad times easier to cope with.

Jared had begged his parents for a cat as a child. One of his best friends had one and he’d grown up enamoured with her: a gorgeous fluffy Maine Coon. His parents – well, his dad, actually, ever a grouchy old miser – refused to let him have a pet. When you’re older you can do what you like, his dad would say. When his dad moved out when they were in high school, Jared decided not to keep pestering his mum, who now had to look after two boys on her own and was usually penny-pinching to keep them fed and clothed. He’d decided to wait until he was older to get a pet. And he had.

Poppy’s furry face looked back at him from the phone screen, and the gaping hole inside him grew wider, if that were even possible.

His phone screen flashed. A text message from his mum.

Mum: Hope you’re doing okay, love. Let me know if you need anything? Found some old photos of Poppy in a drawer if you want them xx

She’d attached a photo of the pictures she’d found. They were of Poppy as a kitten, when he’d first got her – in his very first flat. She was playing with the shoelaces on his trainers in one picture, and sitting inside his slipper in another. It had been a small flat, with ugly brown carpet that was stained and probably decades old, and cracked countertops in the kitchen. Little Poppy had brightened the place up like nothing else could. She’d made it feel like home. And his mum had visited all the time, bringing little toy mice and treats for her.

The back of his throat itched, his eyes burning, the sense of loss opening up inside him. His brother may not understand, but she did.

Jared: Thanks, Mum, I’ll grab them when I see you xxxxx

He shoved the phone in the glove compartment and tried to stow his thoughts in there along with it.

As he weaved around the twisting roads, through the hills back to Ambleside, he flicked on the radio to distract himself from his thoughts and memories, and a news bulletin echoed through the car.

Now for your ten-day trend weather update . . .

Jared struggled to focus as he drove through the hills, until a segment of the update caught his attention.

The slightly longer-term outlook is lively. A zone of stronger conditions known as a jet streak with an arched position will create an area of low pressure with some quite vicious features as it moves across the country. This will bring extremely strong winds, particularly across the north. With another area of low pressure expected to develop, and cold air sinking in, this is something we’ll need to keep a close eye on. Initially, we have a warning in place for strong winds across northern parts of the country. Keep an eye on the forecast for more updates over the coming week.

‘Great,’ Jared mumbled. Bad weather was just what he needed the moment he’d landed a driving job.

Chapter 2

Emm. . .