Page 16 of Moon Tamed

“The girl is perfection when working and a demoness the rest of the time. The boy? Don’t get me started.”

“Dad,” Peter complained. “I’m not that bad.”

“You are that bad.”

I grinned. “I just get bored.”

“I will make certain you are kept intellectually engaged and challenged,” Calden’s father promised. “It’s a common issue in our faction. When you have a lot of smart people who like being kept busy, trouble happens if boredom is allowed to set in.”

Calden grunted. “Like broccoli brownies.”

“I found the recipe last night. I needed to test it. Who better to test it on?” Calden’s father chuckled. “Your new temp has proven she can handle you at your worst—and when shirtless.”

“You’re evil,” Calden sighed. “You tried to kill me with that stunt. Why would you do that?”

“You need more spice in your life.”

“Broccoli is not a spice.”

“But you had a spicy reaction to the brownies.”

“Wrong kind of spice, Dad.”

Before the Stephans could argue over the brownies, my mother came in carrying a roasting pan. “Feeling better, Coraline?”

My father gave me my stuffed wolf. Taking Sir Wolfston, I set him on my lap. “Much.”

“Good.” My mother set the roasting pan on the table. “I made proper brownies for you, and I added nuts.”

“I am so glad I decided to play the sad child on the doorstep today.”

She laughed and returned to the kitchen, ferrying out dishes loaded with mashed potatoes, steamed greens, sweetroots, and gravy. As I liked my sweetroots with butter, sugar, and a little cream, she brought me a dish catering to my special needs.

“I understand the butter, but sugar and cream?” Calden asked. “Isn’t that sweetroot? It’s already sweet.”

“I turn it into creamy sweetroot candy goodness,” I informed him. “I am not normal.”

“Normal would be pouring gravy on it so it’s less sweet,” my father added. “There’s plenty more butter, sugar, and cream if you want to try it.”

My mother snickered and returned with more butter, cream, and sugar before taking her seat. “In case any of us decide to be as brave as my daughter.”

While doubtful, Calden served himself some of the sweetroots. “Think we’re going to regret this, Dad?”

“What’s a little more regret in my day?”

“This can’t be worse than the broccoli brownies.”

Mr. Stephans nodded. “Obviously.”

Calden passed the dish to me. “So, you’re going to try it, Dad?”

“Pride demands it.”

I smirked and gave myself a heaping pile of the cubed roots, which ranged in color from white, beige, and orange to vibrant reds and purples. “How about you, Peter?”

“Pass. If I wanted to eat candy, I’d eat candy.”

Grinning, I passed the dish over to Calden’s father. “Yet you’ll eat mom’s pie, which is made mostly of sugar.”

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