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Chef King humored his boy with a kind smile. “Hello, little one. You’ll be a good boy for Daddy now, yes?”

“The best in the galaxy!” Camden promised.

“Too fuckin’ precious,” Ash chuckled quietly.

Just a beat later, Jack announced that the event had started, and it did something to me. I automatically straightened and made sure my posture was good, and I lowered my gaze to the floor.

“There we have it, slaves,” Chef King said. “Come forward and begin. Ten minutes on the clock—now.”

Nu jävlar.

I rounded Ash and went for the nearest spot in front of us, and I lifted the lid. Okay, okay, got it. Flour, softened butter, sugar, vanilla extract, one egg, salt, baking powder… I suspected we’d be making those American sugar cookies. My dad loved them, with way too much icing. Plus, I spotted a cookie cutter, so yeah.

I grabbed the recipe, and sure enough—sugar cookies.

“My cookie cutter is an airplane, Daddy!” Noa said happily. “Oh crap.”

Mine was the shape of a T-shirt, and I was not announcing that.

Dammit, Archie was already mixing ingredients. In the right order too. He knew what he was doing. Honestly, I loved to bake, but my strength was in cooking.

Chef King and one of his helpers—Franklin—handed out baking sheets as we worked.

“When the dough is ready, you roll it out and use the cookie cutters,” Chef King said. “We’ll write your names on each sheet, and we’ll store them in the fridges until it’s time to bake them. And by the time you return for your second visit, you will decorate them for your Owners. If you understand, say, yes, Chef King.”

“Yes, Chef King,” we replied in unison.

“Music to my ears,” Greer murmured.