Page 29 of Moonlight and Mischief
As he mixes the flour in, I tear off more parchment paper and lay the baking trays out. He sets the bowl of dough in front of me with a thud. “Look good?”
Nodding I scoop the first cookie and plop it onto the tray.
“Wait, you missed a step,” he says, picking the dough up and dropping it into a smaller bowl and rolling it around. Cinnamon sugar.
“You’re making snickerdoodles?” I say, spinning to face him.
He doesn’t look up, finishing rolling the cookie dough in the sugar mixture and setting it back on the cookie sheet.
“Jasper?” I prompt.
Finally his cyan eyes flick upwards. “Yeah?”
“You’re making snickerdoodle cookies after I told you about my mom.” I speak slowly, wanting his confirmation. His smile turns guilty.
Shoulders tensing, he scoops another dough ball and tosses it into the sugar. “Maybe I’m craving them after you mentioned it.”
“Asshole.” He laughs as I swat his arm.
My assumptions about the oven temperature prove correct. The second tray of cookies come out golden and gorgeous. Some edges are a little too brown, telling me the dough wasn’t mixed thoroughly. But I don’t think he needs a critique, not when it’s his first time baking cookies. Practice smooths out many mistakes.
His bright eyes watch my face as I chew my first bite. I nod, giving him a thumbs up. He visibly relaxes, taking a cookie for himself.
“Pretty good for a rookie, right?” he says, his cocky smirk back. As I turn back to scoop the rest of the dough out onto one last tray, I hear him say, “a cookie rookie,” under his breath. Glancing back, I crinkle my nose with amusement so he knows I heard him. That earns an embarrassed laugh.
Jasper insists on doing the dishes and I settle on the sofa with another snickerdoodle cookie. He hums as he scrubs, the running water and clinks of bowls and measuring cups forming a dissonant accompaniment. I watch his profile, admiring the curve of his lips and cut of his jaw.
By the time the kitchen is clean, it’s time to meet everyone for a community dinner. We don’t bother arriving separately, though he stands a bit further away from me once we arrive in the clearing. I want to grab his arm, but I try to respect the silent boundary. Hazel is right, we should keep a little distance. Even if I don’treally want to.
6. Cameras and First Kisses
JASPER
Storm clouds roll over the treetops along the north-east edge of our territory. Onyx carries a box of electronics as Slate picks out spots to install security cameras. They’re rated for all-weather outdoor use, so a few raindrops aren’t going to interrupt our work.
The increased monitoring along our shared border will allow me to breathe easier. Heath allowed Hawthorne and I to pick out the tech, and Onyx helped because he’s good with electronics.
“Hazel told me Marigold is staying with you,” Slate says, lookingstraight ahead.
Onyx swings around, his mouth gaping. Thankfully, he manages to control himself long enough to hear my answer.
“She had some issue with her grandma and asked to crash with me.” Shrugging, I say, “The cabin has two bedrooms. It would be dumb to tell her no.” That might be downplaying it, but I don’t like how stiff Slate’s posture is.
“Wait, how long have you guys been living together?” Onyx asks.
Sighing, I rake my fingers through my hair and push it out of my eyes. “About a week.”
“She could've stayed with us. We have a second bedroom too,” Slate says. I frown, really not wanting to have this conversation, but luckily Onyx jumps in.
He snorts. “Really, dude? You guys are so handsy, we’re all glad your cabin is one of the farthest away. No one wants to stay with you.”
My brother glares at Onyx with an expression that would stop me in my tracks, but Onyx just barks out a laugh.
“It’s no big deal. I’ve got plenty of space and she’s nice to have around,” I say.
Slate halts, looking up at a gnarly oak tree. “How about this one?”
I breathe in, testing the scents. Our scent is starting to fade here, but the hint of Ironcrest is so faint, I almost can’t smell it.
