“Buck.”
“What? I’ll still drag you into the bushes at every opportunity. It’s what I’d do if we were actually dating.”
“But not whatI’ddo,” she retorted. “Do you want this to be convincing or not?”
“Fine, fine.” He held up their joined hands in surrender. “We’ll hold hands in public. Sometimes.”
She nodded, still red to the tips of her ears. “And that’s all we do. Nothing more. In publicorprivate. Agreed?”
Pain bit through his scar.
“Agreed,” he said, not flinching. “Nothing more.”
CHAPTER26
“I’m telling you, something’s wrong,” Estelle insisted. “They don’tactlike mates.”
“Keep your voice down,” Flora said, casting a glance at the front of the art room, where Honey was showing Claire and Beth how to shape a lump of clay into a vase on the pottery wheel. “They’re right over there.”
“What do you mean, they don’t act like mates?” Flora asked. She stuck another feather on the griffin sculpture she was making with Rufus and Finley. “They stare at each other all the time.”
“I know, but… look, I’ll show you.” Estelle stuck a hand in the air. “Buck! I need more clay!”
Buck looked up from cleaning sculpting tools at the back of the room. “Again? What in dog’s name are you making, a life-sized model of Thunder Mountain?”
Estelle hastily squished her blobby, misshapen unicorn with one elbow. “I’m trying to make my dad, but I keep messing up his head. Can you get me more clay?”
Buck let out an exasperated sigh, but headed for the art supply cupboard. Extracting another hunk of clay, he stalked over to their table.
“There you go.” He dropped the clay in front of Estelle with a resounding thud. “I’m cutting you off, though. You want more, you’ll have to go dig it up yourself.”
Estelle poked at the clay. “It’s too stiff. Will you work it for me, like Honey showed us earlier?”
“What, your hands fallen off?”
“I’m only little. I don’t have my full shifter strength yet.” Estelle batted her pale eyelashes at him. “Pleeeeeeeease, Buck?”
From Buck’s narrowed eyes, he smelled a rat. Nonetheless, he picked up the clay again. He started working it between his hands, rolling and squeezing.
Catching the others’ eyes, Estelle jerked her chin meaningfully at the front of the room. Honey’s hands had frozen on her half-formed vase. Claire asked something, but Honey didn’t reply. She stared at Buck’s flexing biceps, expression a little glazed, sloppy clay piling up around her fingers.
As if sensing his audience, Buck glanced up. Honey jerked her gaze away, accidentally crumpling one side of her vase as she did so. Cheeks pink, she bent over the pottery wheel to fix her mistake.
Buck’s attention lingered for a moment on Honey, watching her coax her clay back into a smooth, rising pillar. Then he cleared his throat.
“Right,” he said gruffly. He slammed the lump of clay down in front of Estelle. “That’s soft now, at least. Any of the rest of you need some help?”
“Nope!” Estelle said before anyone else could reply. She shooed Buck away with a cheerful wave. “We’re all good! Thanks!”
Buck returned to the sink, though not without shooting them several suspicious glares over his shoulder. Estelle maintained her innocent expressions until his back was safely turned. Then she put her elbows on the table, motioning them all into a conspiratorial huddle.
“You see?” she whispered.
“No,” Flora and Finley said in unison, but Rufus’s golden eyes were still resting thoughtfully on Honey. He cocked his head like a bird, eyebrows drawing down.
“Exactly,” Estelle said triumphantly in reply to Rufus’s telepathic comment. “See, Rufus gets it.”
“Honey only watches Buck when she thinks he isn’t looking,” Finley said slowly. “And vice versa.”
