Page 56 of Taking The Shot

“That doesn’t mean we have to get it,” she argued weakly, even as the kitten in question let out an absolutely pitiful, manipulative little mewl.

“I wike this one, Daddy,” Kayla chimed in, her tiny arms wrapped around what could only be described as the most tragic-looking orange kitten in existence. The poor thing looked like it had been through at least three street fights, lost every single one, and still had the audacity to strut around like it owned the place.

“His name is Keith,” Kayla declared with absolute certainty.

Keith let out a bark of laughter, his entire body shaking as he reached for his youngest daughter, pulling both girls into a hug while casting a helpless look at Constance.

“I cannot be the disciplinarianallthe time,” he teased, his voice full of reluctant amusement as her mouth dropped open in disbelief.

“You are kidding me,” she hissed, laughing and shaking her head as Keith rose to his feet, moving to her side… and nudged her in front of him like he needed shelter. She laughed evenharder as he started to chuckle, sharing a smile in complete awareness of what was happening.

“Maybe this isn’t the ‘hill we want to die on,’” Keith admitted, giving her a slow grin as he slid an arm around her waist. His voice dropped lower, conspiratorial. “I mean, what can it hurt—and they named them already.”

“And this one’s name is Gretzky…” Paige announced triumphantly from behind them.

Keith stiffened. His eyes slowly lifted to Constance’s, a realization dawning in them that had her biting back a victorious smirk.

“They played me again, didn’t they?”

“You’ve been checked again, big boy…” Constance murmured, her eyes dancing as she met his beautiful eyes.

“Crap.”

Constance could practically see the last shred of his resistance crumbling to dust. And, because she wasn’t above twisting the knife just a little, she leaned in, her voice sweet as honey.

“So, if there’s no difference between one kitten and two… how about three? Huh,Man of Steel? How’s that backbone holding up?”

Keith let out a long, slow breath, his expression resigned. “I hate it when you are right.”

“Get used to it,” she shot back, crossing her arms. “Now, what are we going to do about it?”

Keith groaned, rubbing a hand down his face like a man who knew he was utterly and completely defeated. “Get three kittens and get the heck out of here before they name a fourth one?” he said helplessly, pointing at the orange cat. “I cannot leave Keith here… and Lemieux is just too perfect. Plus, Gretzky wins every time. I mean, that was a below-the-belt shot from a girl who is just too smart for me.”

Constance grinned. “You’re cleaning the cat litter.”

Keith puffed up his chest, adopting an expression of exaggerated toughness. “It’s a chore we’ll teach the kids.”

Constance simply patted his cheek, giving him a knowing look that saidI know better.

“Sure. You keep telling yourself that.”

Keith exhaled, shaking his head. “I love you.”

“I love you too—now can we go?”

“Yes. Before we adopt another furball.”

And with that, the Boucher family grew by three.

The drive home was a chaotic symphony of frantic meowing from the kittens, their little paws scrambling against the carrier bars as if they were plotting their escape. The kids, in the backseat, were practically beside themselves with their pleas, desperate to free the tiny furballs.

The car was an absolute madhouse.

Constance could feel the tension bubbling up in her chest—her nerves rattling with each pleading cry, her kids’ voices escalating like an out-of-tune orchestra. And then, to her utter shock, Keith did the unthinkable.

"No, girls. The kittens stay in the crate, and we’re doing this a certain way," Keith’s voice came out sharp, cutting through the noise like a knife.

Constance blinked, her head whipping toward him with a raised eyebrow. Keith, usually a soft touch when it came to the kids, had just made a stand, and she couldn’t help but feel asudden rush of what she knew was short-lived admiration. The man was gonna cave as soon as one of the girls blinked at him.

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