“I hear you have a problem.” Cinn would start with the obvious and take it from there.

Sparkle tossed her red hair away from where it hung over one eye, and glared at her. “You think? You’re lucky I don’t pull your meatball-stealing bandit out by her roots.”

Cinn winced. “Umm, I’m sorry about that.”

Sparkle took a moment to yell at some worker ants who weren’t scurrying fast enough. One of them rushed past Cinn, muttering, “The hell with Prada. The devil wears Hermés.”

“Damn right I do.” Then Sparkle focused on Cinn again. “You slept late. Must’ve had some great dreams.”

Cinn squashed the urge to smile. Oh, yeah. Her dreams had been a replay of the game, and not the one on the field. “Want me to help?”

Sparkle stepped away from the stove and pulled Cinn with her. “I think I have everything under control. Luckily, there aren’t many people eating in the restaurant.” A crease formed between her amber eyes. “You know, there’re a few things puzzling me. First, the hotel part of the castle is full. Not something you’d expect during a slow month like January. Second, where is everyone eating? There should be more people in the restaurant. I mean, where else can they go in this storm?”

An unexpected shiver worked its way down Cinn’s spine. “What’s the weather service’s explanation for the storm?”

Sparkle shrugged. “Who knows? Cable and phone service are both down. We can’t even get local TV stations. Nothing but static on the radio. I guess we’re lucky to still have electricity.” Just then the lights flickered. “Oh, crap.”

Cinn held her breath, but finally the flickering stopped.

“Holgarth has already shut down the park, but we still have to take care of the hotel’s paying guests. If the electricity goes, we have generators, but it won’t be fun for any of us. Don’t worry, though, we’ll get heat to your plants.”

Cinn wanted to speed up the time until Dacian could be with her. It wasn’t exactly that he made her feel safe. He made her feel complete.

Before Cinn could ask any more questions, Ganymede leaped into the room. His amber cat eyes had a frantic gleam to them.

“Stop. No. Tell me you’re not cooking for the guests, honey-pumpkin.” His tail whipped from side to side in a distressed frenzy.

“And who else was supposed to do it after you scared off our chef?” She went all slitty-eyed on him.

“Hey, it wasn’t me. The plant scared off Phil.” Ganymede avoided her gaze.

“Go ahead, blame it on an innocent plant.” Sparkle tapped one Hermés-clad foot.

“You’re kidding, right? Have you seen that plant? She’s a man-eater.”