Page 113 of The Wrong Groom

Peyton giggles. “Why would she want to sniff me?”

“Cats have a very good sense of smell,” I tell her. “It’s a way for her to get to know you. Like asking someone their name.”

Of course, I know next to nothing about cats, but this feels like a safe suggestion. I try to make eye contact with Gabriel as Peyton holds out her hand, but his gaze is also fixed on the kitten.

The kitten’s whiskers twitch as she edges closer to Peyton, her delicate white paws soundless on the rug. Those enormous golden eyes flick between Peyton’s hand and her face, as if gauging whether this small human can be trusted.

Peyton remains perfectly still, her hand hovering just above the floor. “It’s okay, kitty,” she coaxes. “I’m nice. I promise.”

The kitten pauses, her nose almost touching Peyton’s hand, before giving it a tentative sniff. Then, as if satisfied, she nudges her little head against Peyton’s fingers.

Peyton grins, stroking the kitten between the ears. “She likes me!”

“Looks like it,” Gabriel agrees.

“She’s so soft,” Peyton says.

The kitten stands on her hind legs for a moment to lean harder into Peyton’s hand. Her golden eyes squint closed in pleasure, and the sound of her purring fills the room, a steady, soothing rumble. It’s a surprisingly big sound for such a little creature.

“What do you think?” I ask. “Is she the one?”

Peyton grins up at me. “Yes! She’s the best kitten ever!”

The kitten, apparently deciding she’s made a new best friend, clambers into Peyton’s lap and curls up, her purring intensifying. Peyton giggles. She squirms a bit, but that doesn’t seem to disturb the kitten in the slightest.

“You’re going to have to name her,” I say.

Peyton’s brow furrows, and she stares down at the kitten with a pensive expression. “She doesn’t have a name?”

“Not yet. That’s your job, Bug.”

“She’s black and white,” Gabriel says. “What about Tux? Short for tuxedo.”

Peyton wrinkles her nose. “That’s a boy name!”

Gabriel, the model of patience when it comes to his daughter, takes this criticism in stride. “Okay. How about… Oreo?”

“Mmm… no.” Peyton shakes her head. “I’m going to call her Pepper.”

“Pepper and Peyton,” I chime in. “The dynamic duo.”

“We’ll be best friends forever, right, Pepper?” Peyton cradles the kitten close, and Pepper lets out a pint-sized mewl that seems to seal the deal. “Alexis, you have to hold her too. She needs to like everyone.”

“Gladly,” I say, holding out my hands to accept the kitten. Peyton picks her up with surprising gentleness for a six-year-old. As soon as Pepper is in my arms, she goes limp, still purring. My heart melts as she vibrates against me. “Aw, she’s precious.”

Gabriel lets out a grunt of reluctant agreement.

“You too, Daddy,” Peyton insists.

Gabriel arches an eyebrow. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” Peyton says with all the authority of a six-year-old determined to have her way. “She has to like everyone in the family. So you have to hold her.”

I smirk, holding out Pepper in his direction. “She has a point, you know.”

“I don’t think I have to hold the cat,” Gabriel says with a sigh. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“Um, excuse me, but you absolutely have to hold the cat,” I tell him.