“Just be glad I don’t have any glitter.” Peeling the label off the backing paper, she slapped it onto his chest. “There. All set.”
He grunted, returning his gaze to the entrance to the camp. It wasn’t just his expression that was grimmer than normal, she realized. There was a drawn tightness to his face; a hint of smudged shadow under his eyes. They’d both stayed up late last night, going over everything she needed to know about shifters, but now she wondered if Buck had gone to bed at all.
“Hey.” She lowered her voice so that the kids wouldn’t overhear. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“Didn’t dare,” he replied, somewhat cryptically. He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve done longer days on less rest.”
“Were you worrying about the plan? If you’re having second thoughts—”
“No,” he interrupted firmly. Sounds came from the direction of the parking lot—the crunch of wheels over gravel, and the squeal of brakes. “This is it. You ready?”
Honey swallowed, a flutter of nerves returning. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“They’re just kids.” Buck shifted his weight from foot to foot; unfolded his arms, then recrossed them the other way. “You’ll be fine.”
He wasfidgeting, she realized with a start. She didn’t think it could be due to sudden cold feet. Yesterday, he’d been nothing but totally confident in her ability to pull this off.
Now, however, he didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. Despite the gray exhaustion in his face, there was a drawn tension to his body. He looked more like a soldier bracing himself for battle than a counselor ready to welcome a group of campers.
“Buck.” She moved closer, so that they were side by side. “Areyounervous?”
“Me?” His biceps stood out like boulders. “Of course not.”
“Well, you look nervous.”
“Good.” He let out a huff of breath, not quite a laugh. “Because I’m actually motherloving terrified.”
“Hey.” Touched by the admission, she bumped her elbow against his. He twitched as though at an electric shock. “Like you said, they’re just kids.”
He shot her a wry look. “That’s why I’m terrified.”
And the campers poured in.
They came in a dense, surging mass, laughing and yelling and running. Honey glimpsed Leonie darting around at the back of the crowd, herding the kids along.
“Remember your number!” the head counselor called, lifting her voice over the din. “Go to the sign with your number!”
“Three! Three!” a young boy shrieked as the crowd broke apart. He spun round and round, frantic gaze sweeping straight past them. “Where’s three? I can’t find three!”
Honey stepped forward, waving to catch his eye. “Over here!”
The boy’s face lit up. He pelted straight for her at top speed, shirt flapping.
Just as he reached the dining hall, he tripped. Honey instinctively lunged to catch him—and found herself with an armful of fur.
She sat down hard, barely feeling the impact of her butt hitting dirt. The warm, heavy bundle of clothes wriggled on her lap. A wet black nose and stubby muzzle poked out from the twisted t-shirt, followed by big dark eyes and two round, fuzzy ears.
“Oh my goodness,” she breathed. She touched the soft brown fur, still scarcely able to believe the evidence of her own senses. “You’re a bear. An actual bear.”
The actual bear seemed pleased by her powers of observation. He puffed out his chest proudly, holding out his front paws as though inviting her to admire them.
“Look at you.” Lost in wonder, Honey ran her fingers over the rough pads and long, curving claws. “Oh, justlookat you!”
“You aren’t supposed to shift,” Beth said primly from somewhere behind her. “Not unless it’s free time, or an adult says it’s okay. You’re breaking camp rules.”
The bear cub stuck a small, pink tongue out at her.
“None of that sass,” Buck growled. Reaching down, he grabbed hold of the bear by the scruff of the neck. “Get off your counselor. You can’t go around pouncing on people.”
