“Oh, hush,” Eliza giggled, booping Lachlan on the nose with her flour-coated finger. “You know Puffcake choseme.”
Lachlan blinked. “Did you just boop me on the nose?”
Another flurry of giggles escaped her. “You look like Rudolph. Rudolph the powdered nose.”
“Careful, Snow,” he said, inching closer to the mixing bowl. “That sounds a lot like a challenge.”
“What are you doing?” she asked as she watched him grab a handful of the flour. Seeing the mischief in his eyes, she cocked her head. “You wouldn'tdare.”
“Oh, I would.” He grinned.
“You even think about throwing that and you’ll wake up tomorrow morning with marshmallow cream in your shoes.”
“I accept those terms.”
Before she could dive for cover, a puff of flour launched across the counter, hitting her square in the chest and face. She gasped, coughing and blinking through the cloud of powder. Her apron, sweater, and hair were completely covered in white.
“Oops,” Lachlan shrugged innocently.
Eliza wiped a slow hand down her front, then fixed him with a deadly calm expression. “You’re a goner.”
He grabbed some more flour from the bowl before backing away from her. “What? You said marshmallow cream! I was prepared for a mild inconvenience, not mortal consequences!”
She launched herself forward, reaching into the mixing bowl and grabbing a handful. She struck him straight in his smug face. It hit with a satisfyingpouf, coating his jaw and the front of his dark henley.
He coughed. “Snow! I amdrenched!”
She gave a smug expression. “Now we’re even.”
“Oh, no we’re not. You just started a flour war.” He threw another handful at her, this time pelting through the air and raining onto the counters like snow.
And in a flurry of shouts, they ducked behind the island and flung handfuls across the room like they were snowballs.
Puffcake let out screeches of joy as he looped between them, pretending to act as a referee with a spatula between his claws. The bowl sat in the center of the island like a powder keg.
Getting an idea, Eliza popped from behind the counter and reached for the entire mixing bowl to take it away from the middle. Lachlan lurched forward to stop her, his hands on either side of hers. “Foul!” he protested, “Puffcake, call it!”
In his excitement, Puffcake blew out a tiny gale of fire, scorching one of the cabinets. Eliza slipped, and the next thing she knew, she was falling backward, the mixing bowl comingwith her. The back of her head hit the cabinet with a thud, and the rest of the flour mix spilled into her lap.
She reached for her head, half-laughing and half-wincing from the pain. Before she knew it, Lachlan was there beside her. “Are you okay?” His voice turned gentle. His hand reached for the top of her head, cupping it in his hands.
“I’m okay,” Eliza reassured him, breathless from the fight.
Both of them were covered in white, their hair and clothes dusted in flour. Puffcake settled himself on the counter and began doing snow angels in the aftermath.
She looked up and met his eyes. They were warm and full of concern. She realized how close they were together now on the flour-coated floor. She took in the scent of evergreen, coffee, and cinnamon.
“I’m sorry. I think it’s my fault,” he apologized.
“It’s no one’s fault,” she breathed. “I slipped.”
He tightened his lips into a flat line, as if relishing telling her the truth. “Well, I may have let go of the bowl …” He quickly continued, “but I didn’t think you’d fall back and hit your head. It was a stupid move. I shouldn’t have done it.”
Eliza only smiled. “It’s something I would’ve done, too.” She looked at the wreckage of the kitchen, the layer of white dust that coated everything. Puffcake had left little snow angels on the counter.
Even her golden trophy wasn’t spared from the debris. It sat over by the baker’s rack covered in white.
Suddenly, tears welled in her eyes.
