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She adjusted her birthday princess tiara that she was now on day three of wearing and looked at it. “And we frow that at Dadda?”
“Yep. Out of the window so it makes a huge splash.”
“Can we do more?”
“Oh, yeah, we need at least ten.” I grabbed another balloon and handed it to her, and we repeated the process.
Hannah walked in on balloon six. “What are you doing?”
“Corrupting Maya,” I replied without blinking. “What’s up?”
“I have a kitten.”
Maya gasped. “Can I see?”
I looked pointedly at Hannah. “You said ‘kitten’ in front of a four-year-old. What did you expect?”
“Uh, not yet, sweetie. I don’t have him here,” Hannah said. “Can we talk really quick?”
“Sure. Here, Maya—I left the paints on the dining room table. Why don’t you go paint your mom a picture of Dolly?”
“Okay!” She dropped the balloon in the sink with the others and ran off between us.
“That kid is fast,” Hannah said.
“No kidding. What’s up?”
“This kitten.”
“I thought you fed it once.”
“I did, but I didn’t see any sign of its mom or anyone owning it, so I fed it again, and now I think it’s adopted me.”
I fought a smile. “The kitten has adopted you?”
“Yep. It stayed outside the back door last night crying until I let it inside.”
“You fed it and let it inside?”
“Yep.”
“Then you’re its human now,” I replied simply. “I did the same thing with Mason, and now we’re dating.”
She bit back a laugh. “This is serious, Immy!”
“If you don’t want it, give it to Isaac. He’ll know a good rescue that can take it.”
“A rescue? I thought you’d take it!”
“I’m not taking your kitten!”
“It’s not my kitten.”
“Have you named it?”
“I call it Lucifer.”
“Then it’s yours.” I dried my hands and headed out of the bathroom.
Hannah hurried along after me. “It’s not my kitten.”
“It is your kitten.”
“What’s this about a kitten?” Grandma asked, removing a cheesecake from the pan.
There was lemon on top. I knew this one belonged to Mason.
“She fed a kitten, let it inside last night, and calls it Lucifer. It’s hers now, right?” I asked.
Grandma didn’t even think about it. “It’s your kitten, Hannah.”
She groaned and sat at the table. “I don’t even like cats.”
“Shouldn’t have fed it then,” Grandma said without batting an eyelid. “I fed Mason, and now he’s dating Imogen.”
“See? Told you.” I slipped behind Grandma and touched my finger to the cheesecake and popped it in my mouth. “Ugh. So good. What are those?” I pointed at the cake tubs filled with mini squares of cake.
“Fran is coming over tomorrow before she gets Maya to select the wedding cake.”
“You’re all slipping in like one big happy family, aren’t you? Doesn’t anyone care about me?” Hannah moaned, slumping against the counter.
“Yes,” Grandma said. “Now that Imogen is spoken for, I’ll be turning my matchmaking efforts to you.”
She froze, and her eyes widened like saucers. “You what?”
“I’m turning my expert matchmaking efforts onto you. I’ll find you a husband, Hannah Anderson; you mark my words.” Grandma pointed a red fingernail in her direction before she headed outside to where Mason was mowing the lawn.
It was even easier to bribe him these days.
“She’s doing what to me?” Hannah asked, turning to me. “I don’t want her anywhere near my love life.”
“You don’t have a love life, Han.” I scooped some of the cheesecake frosting onto my finger again.
“You only have a boyfriend because a guy you used to bone moved in next door and you got over yourself,” she retorted. “I’m dating.”
“When was your last date?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“That wasn’t a catfish.”
“Three months,” she mumbled. “I don’t need her. I’ve got my kitten now.”
“I thought it wasn’t your kitten.”
She raised her nose in the air in an affected manner before she blew a raspberry at me. “I’m a woman! I reserve the right to change my mind!” Then she turned and stormed off toward the front door.
“Send me pictures of Lucifer!” I yelled after her.
“You got it!” she called right back, then slammed the door.
“Who in the hell is Lucifer?” Mason grabbed my wrist and put my cheesecake-laden finger into his mouth. He groaned. “So good.”
“Hey!” I swatted at him. “Hannah’s kitten.”
“Hannah has a kitten?”
Jesus.
I explained the whole thing to him and leaned against the counter. “So now she has a kitten.”
“All because she doesn’t want Jen interfering in her love life?” Mason raised an eyebrow. “Seems pretty extreme.”
“I don’t know. She doesn’t have the best luck. I might have to stage an intervention and get her out there a little.”
“Ah, because you’re the expert now.” He boxed me in against the counter, one hand gripping the edge either side of my hip.
“No, I’m just helpful like that.”
“If you were single, would you still do it?”
“No. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You’re a hypocrite, Imogen Anderson.”
“What’s a hippy-crit?” Maya asked.
I peered around Mason. “Someone who tells someone to do something and then does it themselves.”
