“Don’t ask me. Try Miss I-see-the-future.” I set each of my donuts on the tray.
Faith nibbled her lower lip. “Um, I only know the forewarning’s gone again now you two are talking. At least we’re back on the right track.”
“But what track is that?” Guy set his donuts beside mine then carried the tray to the oven and slid it inside. “It’s not like Silvie can get to Dralion, so whatever she comes up with has to take effect here.”
“I don’t like that Silvie’s even involved.”
“Neither do I.” He shoved the oven door shut. “This is Dralion’s business, not hers.”
I cleared the countertop as they continued to mutter between themselves. What Guy didn’t understand was, the girls were my business. Faith was a sister to me, and Hope was mated to my brother. I couldn’t get closer to the girls if I tried.
“Guy.” I faced him, my temper on the rise. “With Wincrest effectively trying to marry the girls off, it’s as if I’ve been set the mission of halting the escalation of our war. I don’t think I’d mind meeting him at all, if that’s the case.” No, not now I had the fire skill. Oh, the things I could—
“Fire.” Jumping, Faith pointed at my hands. “Quick, extinguish it.”
4
“I’ve got this.” Guy slung a towel around my hands and snuffed the fire. “Silvie, you’re never meeting Donaldo. Now, watch your emotions. You can’t keep lighting up like this.”
“I don’t see I have a choice.” I flung the towel away. “And stop telling me what to do.”
“Put these on.” Faith tossed me my oven mittens and I shoved them on. “You only come up with the answer to my problem. You don’t get to expand on it, and I’ve certainly not set you the mission of halting the war.”
“I didn’t say halt the war, but the escalation of it, and yes, you kinda have.”
“No. I. Haven’t.”
“Stop arguing with me, or my temper’s really gonna explode. And at this rate, I bet neither of you will even listen to me when I do come up with something.”
“We’ll listen, but we’ll action it. Not you.” Faith plucked her violet t-shirt from her skin. “You still haven’t calmed down. It’s getting hotter in here.”
“It’s my kitchen. You’re welcome to leave it if you want.”
“When you’ve made donuts. Hah, I don’t think so.” She peered through the oven’s glass door. “They’re almost ready. Come and check.”
I stomped across, wishing she would get the point and leave. Only, sure enough, the donuts had turned a delicious golden brown. Their heavenly scent wafted into the air as I opened the oven door. Faith all but drooled over them.
“Nose out.”
“Why don’t you ever say nose in?”
“Because you do that automatically.” I tipped the donuts onto a wire rack, and she lifted her nose into the air and let out the loudest sigh. “Mmm. You’re forgiven.”
“For what?”
“Arguing with me.” She pinched one of the donuts, fumbled then lost her grip. “Ouch, hot.”
“Of course they’re hot. Go and whip the cream, and if you do a good job, I’ll forgive you for arguing right back.”
“That’s the worst thing about cooking. You have to wait before you can eat.” She yanked open the drawer and pulled out a beater.
“My mother used to cut a few slices from the end of the loaf to cool it quicker.” Guy slid a knife free of the wooden knife block. Using it, he cut a perfect slit for the jam and cream down the center of each of the long donuts. “But in this case, this should do.”
“Excellent.” Faith’s stomach rumbled from across the room. “Now that smells even better.”
“Okay, I can tell my sister’s cooked.” Hand-in-hand with Hope, Silas strode in through the swing door. His red-gold hair was wet, as was Hope’s. They must have been for a swim. “I swear I smelt donuts all the way from the watering hole. Was I right, sis?”
“You have a big nose.”
“No, I actually have an acute sense of smell.” He grinned as mischievously as he had when we were kids. “You want me to set the table?”
“Yes, where’s Davio?”
“Right here.” He stepped into the room in his chunky leather boots and made a beeline for Faith. “You snuck away from school early, love.”
“Silvie got a little too hot to handle again. I had to skip the last class to come and cool her down.” She pulled the beater from the cream and licked the end. “She’s in a very tempestuous mood today. Try and steer clear of her.”
“Sounds like someone else I know.” He dipped one finger into the bowl.
“I’m not tempestuous.” She smacked his hand. “That’s my cream.”
“You’re not? Are you sure?” He kissed the corner of her lips where a smear of cream remained. Or not, as now was the case.
“Hey, that was mine too.” She shoved him back. “Go whip your own cream.”
“Merge your mind with mine.” He caught her between him and the counter. “I need the contact.”