Page 38 of Arctic Panda's Secret Mate
“Thank you!” Darla said gratefully. “They have to?—”
“—cool a little bit, first. I know! Otherwise the frosting will melt right off. There’s a trick to the timing, and extra hands will make it go faster when it’s ready.”
Darla beamed at her. “Oh, I knew I’d like a mate of Tristan’s,” she said warmly. “He’s just such a nice guy.”
“Do you know him well?” Haisley asked, testing the consistency of the frosting. She was glad it was good, because she didn’t want to insult Darla by adding more powdered sugar.
“Not that well,” Darla said, giving her a slow smile. “He’s a general handyman around the resort. I’m usually in the kitchens. I often take the early shift making bread.”
“I imagine you want to get all of your baking out of the way as early as possible, because it’s so hot there?” She might as well learn as much as she could about the place she might be moving.
“That is definitely a factor,” Darla said easily.
There was a crash out in the great room as Tristan brought in a load of firewood and dropped it on the hearth. Haisley distracted herself, testing the temperature of the cinnamon rolls and feeling very much like a teenager who was about to see her crush. She felt like shewas on a seesaw: eagerness to see Tristan again, awkwardness that it would be in front of other people, despair that she might have to give up her home to keep him.
But it wasn’t Tristan that came skidding into the kitchen, it was the white-haired woman from several nights before. She was dressed this time, in a short one-piece dress trimmed in faux fur. “There are cinnamon smells!”
“Gizelle!” Darla greeted her. “This is Haisley. She’s Tristan’s mate, and this is her kitchen.”
“It’s not really—” Haisley started to protest.
“We met,” Gizelle said carelessly. “I shifted and she pretended I didn’t. Can we eat them yet?”
“They’re cool enough to frost.” Haisley realized belatedly that she was not in control here and ought to defer to Darla, but Darla was nodding her agreement.
There was already a stack of plates out, and they made fast work of frosting each bun and placing it on a plate. Darla had deft hands. Gizelle took two and scampered away with them, and Darla delivered two to Lydia and Wrench. “The rest of our party will be down soon enough when they smell these,” she predicted.
Tristan trailed sheepishly in after Darla and took his own plate. “They smell delicious,” he said, like he wasn’t sure what to do next. “Merry Christmas?”
Haisley took pity on him and trotted over to kiss him on the cheek. “Merry Christmas.”
Tristan beamed at her.
“Oh, Tristan, what lovely looking boxes! I presume the cookies are from you and…?” There was a stranger in the doorway behind Tristan.
“Haisley,” Tristan volunteered. “Haisley, this is Bastian. He’s a lifeguard at Shifting Sands. Haisley is my mate.”
“Ah, and I presume she explains some of the mysteriesabout this place?” Behind Bastian was a lovely Indian woman with long, loose hair.
“Some of them,” Haisley agreed. She wasn’t going to volunteer the garage to anyone but Tristan, and she wondered if she should have asked him to keep it a secret.
“We’ve got Internet again!” A tall woman pressed in behind Saina and Bastian and elbowed her way to the cinnamon rolls. “Hello! You’re the chalet ghost, then, and Tristan’s mate?”
“I’m Haisley,” she squeaked.
“Alice. I’m not going to eat you when there are cinnamon rolls, instead.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Haisley laughed. “Note to self, stock cinnamon rolls.”
“Are you going to be coming back to Shifting Sands with us, then?”
Chef’s chopping stopped abruptly and Breck froze with a tray full of glasses and cutlery. Darla cleared her throat very politely. Everyone else was very quiet and Haisley felt that ratchet strap of anxiety tighten again as she was the focus of every eye in the crowded kitchen.
“If shewantsto,” Tristan said with an uncharacteristic growl. He moved just a little bit, as if to shield her and Haisley thought that she could get used to a protective guy.
“Ah! Touchy subject,” Alice said with a knowing nod. “Well, we might all be here a little longer than we were planning. There’s weather moving in.”
Haisley had forgotten to look at the forecast when she turned the Internet back on, slightly distracted by the whole shifters and mates drama that had taken over her life. “A cold front? That shouldn’t keep you here. We’ll plug in your van so it starts.”
