Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 77: His Little Princess

"So," I say after a moment, glancing between Logan and the kitten, nuzzled comfortably into my chest. "What’s the plan here? I can’t keep it."

Logan’s brow furrows. "Why not?"

I gesture vaguely around the room with my free hand. "Um, because this is my apartment? I don’t have any cat supplies, I work long hours, and I don’t want a cat."

The kitten, as if sensing it’s the topic of conversation, lets out a tiny meow and paws at my chest, kneading me like dough.

Who am I kidding? This thing isn’t going anywhere. She, or he, is mine forever.

Logan leans in, his voice low and persuasive. "Come on, Nicole. Look at that face. How can you say no to those eyes?"

I glare at him, but there’s no real heat behind it. "That’s cheating and you know it."

He grins, unrepentant. "All’s fair in love and kitten adoption."

I roll my eyes, but I can’t quite suppress the smile tugging at my lips. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

"Part of my charm," Logan quips, reaching out to scratch under the kitten’s chin. It arches into his touch, purring even louder. "Besides, I think it likes you." freёnovelkiss.com

As if to prove his point, the kitten stretches up, bumping its tiny pink nose against my chin. A warm, fuzzy feeling that has nothing to do with the coffee spreads through my chest.

"Fine," I sigh, as if I hadn’t already decided on keeping her. Him. Whatever it is. "It can stay. For now. But you’re in charge of litter box duty."

Logan’s face lights up with a boyish grin that makes my heart skip a beat. "Am I official, then? I have a chore and everything."

"No. You’re just an unpaid cat intern." Taking a sip of the coffee—bitter and disgusting, because he has absolutely no idea how to brew it in my machine—I ask, "Why are you still here? Her Pawness needs a litter box. And a cute little collar. With a bell."

"Pink or blue?"

I check between the kitten’s legs dubiously. "I dont know. Maybe pink? I don’t see any boy parts."

He frowns. "I don’t think you can see boy parts that way."

"Can’t you?" Tilting my head, I boop the kitten’s nose. "That’s how you know with dogs."

* * *

As it turns out, Logan’s right. A boy’s danglies aren’t that easy to see in a cat.

After a quick and incredibly expensive trip to a nearby vet—did you know that a lot of vets are booked out and cannot see your animal the same day? Yeah, me neither—I’m several hundred dollars poorer, with a fully vaccinated and confirmation that she is in fact a baby princess cat. She now sports a pink collar with some lovely flower design on it and a bell that jingles every time she moves. Oh, and about four bags full of cat toys.

Including some sort of weird tunnel maze-thing Logan insisted Princess Paws needs. And a cat tower that will clash with my apartment’s decor. And a really fancy automatic water fountain, because apparently Princess Paws deserves free-flowing water.

Which, by the way, is so not her name, but I haven’t figured out a better one yet.

I’ve never in my life called into work for something as frivolous as this, but it’s somehow empowering to call in "sick" to go shopping for a baby cat I didn’t want or plan for.

The SUV rumbles beneath us as Logan navigates the city streets. Princess Paws, nestled in my lap, purrs contentedly, oblivious to the chaos she’s about to unleash on my carefully ordered life.

"Remember," Logan says, glancing toward me, "she might have diarrhea from the deworming medicine."

I scratch behind Princess Paws’ ears, cooing in a way I never knew I could, "That’s okay. Daddy’s going to clean that right up, isn’t he? Yes, he is!"

Logan’s lips curl into a smug grin. The pride radiating off him at being called ’Daddy’ is almost palpable. It’s ridiculous how much he’s preening over a title bestowed upon him over a cat.

"So, we’re officially a family unit now?" he asks, his tone far too casual for such a loaded question.

I roll my eyes, addressing the kitty instead. "Listen here, little one. Daddy’s being way too pushy. If he keeps trying to make babies, he won’t be staying over anymore."

"But making babies is the fun part," Logan protests, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down my spine.

Princess Paws lets out a loud meow, as if agreeing with him. Traitor.

"See? She agrees with me."

"No, you don’t," I coo, ignoring the heat rising in my cheeks as he tosses a cocky grin my way. "When Mommy and Daddy get divorced, you’re staying with me."

Logan’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. The carefree atmosphere between us disappears into an icy chill. "I don’t believe in divorce," he growls, his voice dropping an octave.

The dominance in his tone hits me like a physical force. I swallow hard, fighting against the flush of desire that threatens to overtake me. Completely ridiculous reaction to his overreaction to a joke said to a cat.

I squeeze my thighs closed, pretending his words haven’t affected me. But my cheeks flush.

"You can’t just decide that for both of us," I mutter, hating how breathy my voice sounds.

Logan doesn’t even glance my way as a knowing smirk plays at the corners of his mouth. "Can’t I? You’ve just tacitly agreed to our marriage."

"No, I didn’t."

"Yes, you did."

"Did not."

"Did."

I clear my throat, desperate to change the subject. "So, um, did we really need to buy out half the pet store?"

Logan chuckles, and I know he’s only letting me switch topical lanes to appease me. "Princess Paws deserves the best."

"You do realize that’s not actually her name, right?"

He shrugs, turning onto my street. "It suits her."

I look down at the kitten, her tiny paws kneading my thigh as she drifts off to sleep. "Does it?"

As we pull up to my apartment building, I’m struck by the absurdity of the situation. Here I am, playing house with a man I barely know, co-parenting a cat we’ve had for a couple of hours. It’s crazy. It’s reckless.

It’s fun.

Logan parks the SUV and turns to me, his green eyes intense. "Ready to start our new life together?"

Narrowing my eyes at him, I point out, "It isn’t a life together. You are her servant. A princess needs a servant."

Princess Paws stretches in my lap, yawning widely. Her tiny pink tongue curls as she blinks up at me with sleepy eyes.

"No," Logan drawls, reaching out to brush my hair from my face. "You said it very clearly earlier. I’m her Daddy. And you’re her Mommy. Ergo..."

Abort, Nicole! Abort! You are not capable of handling this level of flirtation.

"She’s a cat," I blurt out. "Just a cat. Don’t take it so seriously."

My heart pounds, leaving me feeling awkward and out of my depth.

He sighs dramatically. "Ah, well. It was worth a try."