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Laughing, I let go of his hand. “Why, thank you. I appreciate that. No problems here.”
“This is a good town, and people feel safe here. I want you to know that you’re safe here. I mean it when I say my door is always open if you have any problems or concerns. I’m here to help.”
A healthy dose of surprise hit me when I realized that he, too, was a shifter. He hadn’t done anything to hide the fact—his scent had hit me when he reached over to take my hand. I shouldn’t have been surprised by anything regarding the shifter community in this town, but a shifter sheriff was an interesting twist I hadn’t seen coming.
I studied him. He had the same demeanor as the mayor, and I had a feeling both of them really meant it when they said they wanted Blackwood Creek to be a safe place for shifters. I still couldn’t quite wrap my head around the idea, though.
“Thank you, Sheriff. I appreciate you taking the time to seek me out.”
He smiled and looked around the room. His shoulders sagged a little when he didn’t find whatever it was he was looking for, but his smile brightened again when it landed back on me. “Well, I’ll let you get back to work. The sheriff’s office is just down the street that way.” He pointed past the town square. “Big sign. Can’t miss it.” He laughed and headed to the door.
“Thank you, Sheriff.”
As soon as he was gone, Margo peeked out from behind the swinging door to the kitchen.
“Is he gone?” she mouthed.
I picked up my rag and went to the counter. “The sheriff?”
Margo nodded.
“Yeah, he’s gone. Why were you hiding in the kitchen?”
“What?” Margo fiddled with her perfect hair. “I wasn’t hiding.”
Hmm. Okay. I grinned at her. “Why were you hiding?”
She laughed and waved off the question. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”
That made me throw my head back and laugh. She wasn’tthatmuch older than me.
My curiosity had to be put aside as the lunch rush started. The diner was always busy, serving three meals a day, which said a lot about this town. The people here supported the local establishments.
I worked the late-afternoon shift the next day. It was Margo’s day off, and the other waitress was helping the cook organize the kitchen. With how busy I’d been, the previous day’s meeting with the sheriff felt like it had been ages ago.
My eye caught on the mess beneath the cash register, so I got to work on reorganizing, dusting, and throwing things away that should’ve been thrown out ages ago. There were only a handful of people in the café. An old, crabby man was sitting in the corner booth that was more for large parties, but he came in every day around this time and snagged that spot. He drank his coffee, nursing that one cup, and watched the pedestrians walking past or kept his eyes on the town square. I tried conversing with him once, but he just grunted out his coffee order. That was A-okay with me. I hated making idle chit-chat, too; one could never be too cautious. It was easy to let something slip in a conversation without meaning to. I was always very careful.
The older librarian, Mrs. Marrow, was finishing off a late lunch—another diner patron who followed a regimented schedule. The Magpies were in their standard booth, which nobody else ever sat at unless invited.
After I was satisfied with the shelving underneath the cash register, I sanitized the countertop where the stragglers usually ate. My mind wandered to other people in town, and I wondered whether the sweet Ashworth family and the nasty Greenthornes were shifters. Honestly, I’d believe the latter to be monsters, but not the Ashworths. They were too kind.
I cursed at myself for thinking like that. The Bogfords were terrific and were shifters. I was starting to realize that not all shifters were the same, and trying to figure out if someone was a shifter was not as cut-and-dry as I’d believed. It wasn’t all about scent, nor was it a personality test. How was I supposed to know? No one had taught me the intricacies of being a shifter. I was making it up as I went along.
Honestly, a small part of me envied Margo. She’d grown up with a loving parent to guide and help with the transition, someone to ask questions. I wasn’t ready to open up to these people, but it didn’t stop the green-eyed monster from surfacing when I watched the ease people in this town had—shifters and humans alike. It was confusing, and I didn’t know what to make of it.
The bell above the door chimed, and I glanced in that direction. A quick sniff told me the newcomer was human. He looked a little older than me, and he was aiming his big, toothy grin right at me. It made me a little uncomfortable because the smile was obviously forced.
I kept my thoughts to myself, though, and gave him a little smile. I was in customer service, after all. Another reason I hated that I’d left my laptop behind. If I had it, I wouldn’t have to deal with this guy and others like him.
The man introduced himself before I even grabbed a menu to hand to him. “Hey, I’m Phillip Hill, but I prefer to be called Phil Hill. You know, for the rhyming.” He tried for an easygoing laugh, but his eyes were scrutinizing me, his gaze so intense that most women in my situation would have squirmed.
It put my back up. I’d have to be extra cautious around this guy.
“I’m Tori.” My instincts told me to remain tight-lipped and keep everything close to the chest, just like I had for the last few years. I had secrets aplenty locked down in the darkest recesses of my mind, and it would take more than a small-town, rumor-mongering hick to drag them into the light.
His smile tightened, but he kept his pearly whites out for everybody to see. To those who couldn’t hear the tension, we looked friendly enough.
“So, you’re the new girl everyone’s talking about. You know how it is in small towns. The rumor mill is chomping for something. Anything,” he said.
