Page 112 of Power Play

“So good to know.” I open the garage door, and the other guy, who’s kept silent, shoves the papers I need to sign into my hands. I show them where to put my order and then stand there,reading the document, while they stock my garage with flowers and the other supplies I ordered.

By the time they’re gone twenty minutes later, I’ve already read the document twice, signed it, and now I’m dreaming of coffee. It’s all I need to wake up properly…and maybe Clay’s pancakes. They’re a delicious miracle, and Maya loves them way more than mine. Though I’m not entirely sure about that. She knows what we want to hear from her and says exactly that to each of us. Sometimes she tells Clay and me different things within the span of an hour because she doesn’t want to offend either of us.

“Maya,” I say in a threatening tone of voice so she knows to listen. She can’t take my phone without asking, and she can’t just turn off my alarm. I have an important order that I need to finish today, and these flowers are a huge part of it.

Maya sits at the kitchen table, swinging her legs back and forth. A plate of five pancakes is in front of her, with a good chunk of Nutella on top. Her sippy cup is pressed to her lips when I stomp over to her.

“That’s not okay what you did. What if you hadn’t heard them knocking on the door? The flowers would’ve f—” Shit! I’m doing my best not to curse in her presence, and I almost did. Dammit.

A hand wraps around my waist from behind, and Clay pulls me into his chest, crowding me with his broad frame. I shiver when he lowers his head to my ear, his hot breath fanning over my skin.

“I already talked to her, and Maya is very sorry,” he murmurs soothingly.

“I am! Mommy, please, I’m sorry. I wanted play.”

“She promised me that she won’t sneak into our room anymore and that she won’t take your phone or mine without permission. She knows what she did is wrong. Right, Princess?”

She nods, her eyes big and pleading.

“Everything’s fine, Mama.”

My muscles grow soft as I lean my back into his chest. I can’t be mad at her for long, not when he makes sure to talk to her about her behavior—in a gentler way than I do because I often get overwhelmed by my emotions. While he is her best friend.

“Mommy, eat pancakes. They are so yummy,” Maya exclaims, smiling at me from ear to ear. The corners of her mouth are covered in Nutella, but I don’t think she cares. She takes another bite, closing her eyes when she starts chewing. “So yummy.”

I look up, finding his mischievous yellowish-green eyes focused on me. He lowers his head to mine and kisses me on the lips. “I don’t think I had a chance to say good morning.”

“Good morning, Clay.” My gaze roams over the kitchen as I pull my bottom lip between my teeth. “Any chance I can have a coffee?”

“As if you needed to ask.” Clay playfully pushes me away. “Go sit. I’ll take care of everything.”

I do as he tells me, not wasting any chance to be his good girl—something he tells me in a breathy whisper anytime he praises me.

“Though my breakfast will be super quick.” I sigh, twisting my lips. “I still have five bouquets to make, and the delivery Dylan ordered will be here in less than two hours.”

After I realized I have nothing to worry about when it comes to Dylan, and after she took it upon herself to reassure me that she isn’t interested in my man and is actually dating his teammate, my heart melted. Now she’s not only my most loyal customer but also a future WAG of Dean Crawford. The ring on her finger is fucking huge. The guy is head over heels in love with her, so it didn’t surprise anyone when he proposed after just five months of dating.

Clay sets a plate of pancakes on the table, along with a mug of black coffee. A smiley face with blueberries for eyes, whipped cream for a mouth, and half of a strawberry for a nose stares up at me. I chuckle, picking up the strawberry and tossing it into my mouth.

“Eat, Layla, and then we’re going to help you.” He sits down beside me, his bowl full of oatmeal with strawberries and apple slices. “Someone here wants to be on their mommy’s good side.”

Maya’s cheeks redden, and she presses her chin to her chest, a huge smile on her face.

Shaking my head, I pick up my mug from the table and take a sip.

Mornings like this one might be my favorites.

I holdthe final bouquet I made, looking at it from different angles. The sun streaming into the garage makes the colors pop. It’s beautiful.

When I talked to Dylan about the theme for her birthday party, all she said was that she wanted peonies and roses, and that the color scheme would be a soft palette of blush and white. After some brainstorming and getting her approval on about twenty different bouquets, she chose this one to put on the tables in glass vases. Gorgeous white roses, white carnations, blush alstroemeria, and lavender stock. Baby’s breath and greenery add an accent that looks absolutely stunning, blending all the colors together: white, light purple, pastel pink, and green.

“So beautiful.” Maya sits on the table with Bon-Bon pressed to her chest. The toy has been through a lot since she takes it with her everywhere. Once, Clay even rescued it from Cooper’s dog bed when we had him to our place for a sleepover whenAngie went to the hospital. We never told Maya, but I mended the tear in Bon-Bon’s leg with some pink thread and a needle. Thankfully, she never noticed the stitches.

His soft lips press to my forehead. Clay stands beside me, an armful of pastel pink peonies gathered in his hands.

“You did a great job.” He glances at the clock on the wall. “And we even finished ahead of your deadline. We make a great team. A team of little helpers.”

“Even better than the Thunders?” I tease him, adding the bouquet to the pile of flowers for the party.

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