Page 30 of My Knight

“That’s because I didn’t want to wake you. I think I’ve reached my limit on sleep. If I lie down any more, I’m going to turn into a vegetable.”

That earned another laugh from him, low and easy.

“Maybe we can do something today?” I suggested, careful not to sound too eager. I didn’t want to lie around all day again, but I wasn’t exactly looking to go bungee jumping either.

Pirate winced slightly, like he’d been expecting the ask. “Not sure that’s a good idea, baby. With Boone and Gibbs still out there, staying at the clubhouse is the best thing.”

I figured he’d say that.

I glanced around the yard. “Well, I mean, that’s okay. This place is big enough. Surely there’s something we could do here.”

He took a sip of his coffee and looked over at me. His lips tugged into a slow, mischievous grin. “I’m sure I’m gonna regret this.”

“Regret what?” I laughed.

“Let’s see what the ol’ ladies can cook up.”

Chapter Eleven

Saylor

“I think I ate more icing than we put on the cupcakes,” Dani groaned dramatically as she leaned against the counter and rubbed her stomach like she was halfway into a sugar coma. “Who let me do that?”

Sloane cackled from where she was rinsing the mixing bowls in the sink. “Girl, I tried to take the spatula away from you, but when you growled at me, I didn’t think it was worth losing a hand.”

I chuckled under my breath and wiped down the counter where Dani had left a war zone of sprinkles and frosting. I had already wiped down the top of the fridge, where we had somehow managed to get flour and sugar. I wasn’t even asking how that had happened.

I was in the kitchen with Adalee, Sloane, and Dani, helping to clean up after we’d spent the last three hours turning the entire room into a cupcake factory. Dozens of the little cupcakes were cooling on trays across every flat surface—vanilla, chocolate, red velvet, even some bright green thing that was pistachio.

All Pirate had said, “Saylor wants to do something around the clubhouse,” when the girls had woken up.

That was it.

Eight words.

And those eight words set off a chain reaction that had steamrolled the whole compound.

The ol’ ladies swarmed. It was like lighting a fire under them. Suddenly, there were to-do lists, someone found craft paper, Olive was sketching something on a clipboard like she was building a battle plan, and Dove had a whistle. I didn’t know where the hell she got it, and I sure as shit didn’t ask.

And now—now we had something scheduled for tomorrow that Mac, Olive, Dove, Poppy, and Fallon were calling the Iron Fiends Cup.

Nobody but them knew what the hell it actually was. The rest of us had been flat-out banned from the backyard. That included the guys.

I’d tried to peek and caught Fallon standing guard with a broom like it was a broadsword. She didn’t say anything—just raised her brow and tapped the broom on her shoulder like she dared me to take another step.

I backed up real quick.

Well, the dogs were still allowed back there. Apparently, Davidson and Harley were above suspicion. Lucky bastards.

“I wonder what’s going on in the backyard,” Adalee mused aloud as she placed the last batch of cupcakes onto a tray.

“God knows,” Sloane said and shook her head as she passed her a clean dishtowel. “I’m sure whatever it is, it’s gonna be fun.”

“Fun,” Dani said weakly, still clutching her stomach. “Unless it involves running. If there’s running, I’m out.”

“Same,” I muttered and scraped the last bit of icing off the edge of the counter, tossing the rag in the laundry bin by the door. “If they start yelling ‘obstacle course,’ I’m faking a sprained ankle.”

Sloane snorted.

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