Into Their Woods (The Eerie, #1)(52)
But then Bucky checks his watch. “The Sullivan den should be next,” he declares, and just then the door swings open.
In walks a familiar, tall, muscular man, wearing a smirk I recognize and a deputy uniform that has my heart slipping from my chest and plunging into my stomach.
It’s one of the guys from the diner. The one who had a smirk that leaned closer to naughty than nice. He’d been one of the men from the table of three who’d first set off my alarms. His hair is shorter than the last time I saw him. It’s buzzed now and looks darker than it did that night. His brown-eyed gaze is friendly instead of intense, and today his grin is easygoing and relaxed.
He has a box of fresh muffins in his hands, and he sets them down on the table as the two other guys from Droolies stride in through the door.
“Dillon.” Ellery follows behind them and greets the deputy with a nod. “Hank, Brooks. Come on in and have a seat,” he invites as he closes the door. He looks first to the man with the ice-blue eyes and mousy brown hair that’s pulled back into a ponytail. That must be Hank. He nods to the guy who started the fucked-up staring contest that night, Brooks, who has black wavy hair, muddy green eyes, and that same look of exhaustion I noticed the first time I saw him.
Unease creeps up my throat as everyone finds a seat and gets settled in. The Sullivan den doesn’t watch me like they did before. Today, their gazes are amiable and curious, and I tell my heart to calm down and stop trying to play bumper cars with my ribs.
“What’s going on, Sheriff?” Dillon the deputy asks before waving a hand at the box of muffins and glancing back at those of us leaning against the far wall. “Dig in, guys. Hank has already called dibs on the leftovers, so if you don’t stake a claim now, they won’t be in the breakroom waiting for you later.”
Bucky rubs his hands together and steps forward. Leaning over the table, he tugs the box closer, selecting a blueberry muffin and handing Karen a banana nut. She side-eyes the other deputy for a moment but takes the muffin with a small huff, like she’s offended he knew which one she wanted.
Hmm. I make a note to ask her about that later.
Fife grabs two and offers me the box, but I shake my head, passing on the pastries. The box gets set back on the table, and when I look up, Ellery and the Sullivan den are watching me.
“You should take one. They’re from Millie’s,” Brooks encourages, his voice rough and gravelly like he’s using it for the first time this morning.
“I’m good, thanks though,” I tell him.
“No really, you woke up dangerously fast,” Dillon counters.
“Even if you’re from a strong bloodline, you need to be careful,” Brooks contends, tired eyes imploring.
“You need all the calories you can get to support the transition,” Hank adds, pushing the box back across the table in my direction.
A low growl fills the room.
My head snaps in Ellery’s direction, whose angry blue-eyed gaze is fixed on the deputy. “Let my mate decide for herself,” he practically snarls.
Dillon throws his hands up in surrender, and his two other denmates grow tense and immediately drop their eyes to the table as if the wood grain is fascinating. “No offense. Sorry. Didn’t mean anything by it. I was just trying to help.”
The air is squeezed from the room like it’s an accordion. I gape at Ellery and the other den because what the hell was that?
Karen gives an amused snort and Ellery leans back in his chair and seems to force himself to take a deep breath and relax. As soon as he does, everyone else in the room lets the tension bleed from their frames, and the easygoing vibe that was just chased out of the room returns.
I step forward and quickly grab a muffin from the box, holding it in my hand and hoping it will help ease the last tendrils of tension floating around. It makes Dillon smile but has the opposite effect on Ellery. He suddenly looks pissed. His back straightens and I see him grip the pen so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t snap.
Immediately, I know I’ve made some kind of muffin or shifter faux pas, but I have no idea what. Maybe it was the muffin he wanted? But I can’t exactly put it back because I’ve touched it, and manners, so I just sit there as Ellery returns his attention to the Sullivan den.
“You three were at Droolies the night of the Hunt. You saw Noah there, correct?” he asks sternly.
All three men nod, looking from the sheriff to me and back again, confusion sprinkled across their faces.
“Several witnesses reported that you were watching her at the diner. Can you explain that?” Ellery presses.
“Witnesses?” Dillon asks, his brow furrowing. He looks around as though expecting one of the other deputies to explain, but no one does.
Hank clears his throat awkwardly. “We stopped in to grab a bite to eat before the Hunt. She…uh, Noah, is it?” he asks me, and I nod. “Well, Noah came in after we’d ordered and, well, she caught our attention,” he explains, waving a hand in my direction.
I fight the urge to slink down and hide beneath the table when everyone turns to look at me. It almost reminds me of the time in sixth grade that Mike told Tommy, who told Ginna, who told me that Mike thought I was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. But pile on top of that an angry reaction from a celestial shifter who looks like he might rip the armrests off his chair. I feel like I just downed an entire bottle of awkward, and it burns like bleach.