He didn’t say it like it was a shame. He wasn’t giving me shit. There were no warnings to run while I could, to get away, to stay single forever like some cliché walking venereal disease from TV.

Nah, he was happy for me.

Kase thumped my back. “Good to see Court of Mayhem brothers are falling like Hyde ones.”

Well.

Fuck.

Staring at Mac while she laughed at whatever Piper said, something clicked into place. My ears rang like I’d just had my shit rocked. It hit me in my chest, gut, and dick, and it was far from unpleasant.

Mac glanced back at me before doing a double take. “You okay?”

I locked my shit down. Locked it down tight to deal with later. Lifting my chin, I said, “Yeah, baby. Did you decide?”

“Dunka—” Her lips curled up in a playful smile. “I mean, 90s nostalgic snack, I think.”

“Don’t forget the two cupcakes I owe you.”

She grinned. “And those.”

When she turned away, I kept my voice low and shared, “The baby’s not mine.” I thought about the tiny face on the ultrasound. “But the baby is mine.”

They got what I was saying. Better still, they’d pass the word along so I didn’t have to have the conversation with the others when I showed up with a baby in my arms.

I just had to have the conversation with Mac. Stubborn, independent, cagey Mac…

No big deal.

* * *

“I could eat another pound of those.”

I watched as Mac licked the frosting from her finger, and my dick hardened instantly.

“I’ll buy you a lifetime supply,” I said, an edge to my voice.

Mac’s head shot up, her cheeks flushing. That didn’t stop her from dipping her finger in the frosting cup before swirling her tongue around it. Slow. Sexy.

Perfection.

At the bakery, Piper had given me a package to take to the clubhouse. She was in a bake-off with Swedes, though it seemed more like a dessert trade than a competition. She also had a batch of raisin oatmeal cookies Jury had requested—the sick bastard.

Who the fuck wanted raisin cookies?

I’d planned to drop Mac home before heading to the clubhouse, but she’d asked to come with.

I’d been shocked as shit.

And fuckin’ thrilled.

She was letting me in. Getting to know me. Dropping the walls she kept high and strong.

Maybe not dropping but inching them down. Or at least standing on the bench to peek over.

Point was, it was progress.

I’d given her a tour—excluding the meeting room—before we sat at the table so she could eat.

But if she kept up the show, I was gonna plant her ass on that table and demonstrate how much I liked to eat, too.