Libra Ascending: An Epic Urban Fantasy Romance (Zodiac Guardians Book 1) by Tamar Sloan (adult books to read .TXT) 📗

Brielle’s coattails, so I guess you’ll be hopping on that bandwagon, too,” Adalind says, reminding Brielle that there are other people in the room besides her and Tristan.

“Right,” Brielle says, coming to her senses. “Yeah, I don’t mind.”

“I’m more than happy to help, cooking just isn’t my forte,” Tristan says. “I have no intention of letting you do all the work.” He winks at her, and she hardly notices the heat radiating up her neck. “I’m Tristan, by the way,” he says, leaning closer, the warm skin of his upper arm grazing hers.

“I’m Brielle,” she says, mouth suddenly dry. She swallows. “And this is Adalind.”

Adalind gives a half-hearted two-finger salute in greeting.

Tristan opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted by the teacher.

“The lesson for today is one of my favorites, but it’s not easy.” Ms. Brom claps her hands in front of her plaid apron, a far too eager smile on her plump face. “They’re round, sweet, and everyone’s favorite treat—donuts!” She raises her arms high up over her messy bun like her announcement is the best news any of them has ever heard, only to receive sighs of exasperation from the class.

“Donuts,” Tristan breathes like he’s just found water after a week in the desert. He looks at Brielle, hope bright in his eyes. “They can’t be that hard to make, right?”

Brielle glances at the deep fryer filled with oil on the counter in front of them, figuring they must be making fried donuts rather than baked. “You’d be surprised.”

Ms. Brom begins her demonstration at her station, and Brielle, Adalind and Tristan measure out the ingredients accordingly.

“So Tristan, what’s your story?” Adalind asks, frowning in disgust at the yolk on her fingers as she cracks the eggs.

“My story?” he repeats as he dumps a cup of flour into the mixing bowl.

“Yeah, like, what brings you to Mirror Point High in the middle of the semester?” she clarifies, washing the yolk away at the sink as soon as she’s finished cracking.

“My parents move around a lot for work,” he says, waving away the cloud of flour that erupts as a result of his too-hasty dumping. “I’ve been all over the place.”

“Oh, are your parents in the military, too?” Brielle asks. “Adalind’s parents are in the Air Force, right?”

“Something like that,” Adalind replies. She’s always vague when it comes to the topic of her parents, and Brielle assumes they do something classified, so she never presses the issue.

“Kinda. My dad’s in defense,” he says, ducking his head to check out the recipe. “Sugar. We’re going to need lots of sugar.”

They put all the ingredients together and Tristan tries stirring, his sloppy motions forcing the mixture to spill over the brim.

“Here, let me.” Brielle takes the bowl and whisk from Tristan and stirs in an even circular motion, smoothing the ingredients together.

“Wow, you’re pretty good at that,” Tristan says, flaunting that perfect smile once more. “Did your mom teach you how to cook?”

Brielle frowns and shakes her head, not wanting to get into the issue of her parentlessness.

“Is your dad the cook in the family, then?” he asks.

Again, Brielle shakes her head, continuing to stir. When the dough is thoroughly mixed, she takes it out and attempts to roll it. “Wanna try?” She offers the rolling pin to Tristan, and he accepts it with hesitation. “It’s okay, you can’t really mess this part up.” She giggles.

He pushes the pin onto the mass of dough and rolls it back and forth. He’s a bit too rough, and Brielle is tempted to guide his hands with hers, if only for the excuse to touch him. What’s wrong with her? She’s never been this…girly around a guy before.

“So, what do your parents do for a living, Brielle?” he asks, and Brielle bites her lip at the question.

“Brielle is currently in the market for parents,” Adalind says, as if they were talking about merchandise and not people. “If her current prospects don’t take the offer, I’m considering adopting her myself.” She winks at Brielle, and Brielle is super grateful for the save.

“Oh,” Tristan says, pausing in his clumsy rolling. He looks at Brielle long enough for her to turn back to the dough, suddenly uncomfortable. Tristan’s probably already decided she’s a freak. “I get it,” he continues rolling, his voice hushed. “I’m adopted, too. I just got lucky.”

“Oh.” Brielle looks back, surprised. Aside from the kids she grew up with in Grace Orphanage, she’s never met another orphan. This time she doesn’t break away from Tristan’s blue gaze.

Is that why she feels so drawn to him? They literally just met!

Tristan is the first to break away. He clears his throat. “Okay, I think that’s good.” Tristan lifts the pin to assess his work.

“May I?” She gestures for the pin. He hands it over and she smooths the undulating dough a bit more to make it uniformly flat. “Now we just cut out circles.” She hands Tristan the small circle cutter, then proceeds to press the larger one into the dough. “Press that into the center of my circles.”

“Ah yes, the holes. The worst part of a donut.” He slants a cheeky look at Brielle. “Do you think we can go rogue and not do this bit?”

Brielle has to suppress a smile. “Ah, no. We do this the right way. This will be a normal donut.”

Tristan winks. “I guess I could try that.”

After a few minutes, the dough is cut into about a dozen donuts. Brielle gently slips her fingers around one and lifts it from the counter, offering it to Adalind to put into the hot oil.

Adalind puts her hands up in surrender, backing away. “Ah-ah, I’m not getting anywhere near that fryer.”

Brielle chuckles and shakes her head, then carefully drops the donut into the oil. Without saying anything, Tristan begins picking up donuts and doing the same. He drops the first one in too high above the oil and it splashes.

“Here, you have to lower it right above the surface,” Brielle says. Without