Claws & Crochet

Part 53

ZOEY

"Careful!" The word is shrieked at me the moment my butt brushes against a hard object. Freezing mid-sit, I glance to the side and find a familiar looking woman steadying a plastic box that rests precariously close to the edge of the table.

"I'm sorry. Should I sit somewhere else?" I ask.

The Sip 'N Stitch group has commandeered a large table toward the back of The Wild Rabbit again, and I'd gone for the first free chair.

"No! Don't be ridiculous. I came here for you, Zoey Gunner. Just, don't knock over this box unless you want to spend the next hour picking up sequins."

The glimpse of sparkle reminds me who I'm in a half crouch next to. As I settle in the chair, I examine the woman I'd glimpsed the first night I met Warner.

She's gorgeous with her strong features and dark eyes. The tan skin on her high cheekbones is colored rosy like she spends plenty of time in the sun. Today, her black hair wraps around the top of her head in a braid crown, and I admire the little turquoise drops that dangle from her ears.

"You keep checking me out, I'm gonna tell Warner he has some competition." She gives me a saucy wink, making me smile wide.

"You're friends with Warner?"

"Best friends. Oh, the embarrassing childhood stories I could tell!" She sets down what I realize now is a cowboy boot, and holds out her hand. "I'm Courtney Benally. Glad to finally meet you."

When I clasp her hand, rough calluses brush my palm. Apparently, vibrant footwear and out-of-season daisy dukes doesn't preclude a girl from working hard.

"Good to meet you, too." Even as I pull my current project—the apology scarf I'm almost finished—out of my bag, I study Courtney from the side of my eye.

My curiosity is fueled by one question: is she a werewolf?

Courtney spends time at The Rabbit Hole, but she doesn't seem to be a member of the Dark Moon Riders. Does every wolf in town have to be a biker, too? Could she be one of the townspeople who are in the know?

None of these questions are things I can just blurt out, so I search for a way to approach the topic innocently.

"You said you've known Warner since you were kids?"

Courtney nods, a big grin on her face. "Yeah. I hung out with him and Roderick when we were little tikes. Their mom's house is down the road from mine."

"He was as charming then as he is now. Quick to laugh." Amy Spencer offers, smiling across the table at us as her fingers wield a needle in a cross-stitch project.

Courtney leans close, muttering only to me. "Quick to tear up, too. Sorry to tell you, Zoey. But you're shacking up with a notorious cry baby."

I snort, turning my head to whisper back. "Noted. I'll make sure to treat him gently."

Her eyes glitter as they meet mine, and I return to my original goal.

"So, I guess you know a lot about him. All his . . . moods?"

Hell. I suck at this. Clearly, I was not made for the life of a detective.

Still, Courtney's stare loses an ounce of humor, sharpening as her brows dip.

"I do, in fact." Her shoulder bumps mine as she leans in closer. "Like how animalistic, he can get."

She knows. And I never expected to feel such intense relief. But here she is. One more person who knows the truth about the guy I like. A potential friend that I could have an honest conversation with.

Keeping my voice low, I hold her eyes, trying to convey that I'm in the know, too. "And you? Do you get . . . animalistic sometimes?"

A wicked smirk curls her lips. "Hell. Yes."

She's a wolf.

"Hey, Zoey." The sound of my name pulls me out of the delight of discovery. But when I turn to find Juliet hovering just behind my chair, more joy flowers in my chest.

"You made it!"

My friend smiles, but her lips pinch at the expression, and her eyes flicker around the busy restaurant. Clearly something is stressing her, but I'm not sure what. Maybe she just has new-person-to-the-group jitters.

Well, as this is only my second Sip 'N Stitch, we can be newbies together.

"Here, sit down. Did you bring something to work on?"

When I climbed up to the treehouse earlier today to text Juliet about tonight's meeting, I hadn't received a response before I grew bored and returned to the reception-less wasteland that is my grandmother's cabin. Unsure of Juliet's crafting interest, I brought some extra yarn and hooks.

"I did." The librarian settles in the chair to my left and reaches into her bag, coming out with a shoe box. There's a rustle when she sets it on the table and pulls off the lid.

"Paper?" Courtney asks, practically shoving her boobs into my shoulder to stare around me and get a better view of the colorful collection of cardstock. "What are you making?"

"Greeting cards." Juliet holds up one that has a beautifully detailed mountain scene rendered from carefully cut and layered paper. "I have more than I'd ever need." She blushes, as if admitting a failing.

"Lovely. You're so talented." This comes from a woman across the way from Courtney. "You just moved here not too long ago; do I have that right?"

"The end of May," Juliet murmurs, her focus on a set of scissors in her hands while her shoulders grow tense.

"That long ago? My goodness. Can't believe we haven't been introduced. I'm Karen Hanson."

The rest of the women around the table rattle off their names, but from the familiar tone a few use; I can guess they've run into Juliet at the library.

I get the sense that Juliet would rather not be the center of conversation, but Ms. Hanson doesn't seem happy with a simple hello.

"And I believe I heard you were unattached. Have you been out with any of Pine Fall's nice young men?"

I'm so surprised by her question I drop my ball of yarn, then stifle a curse as I try collect it off the floor before it gets dirty and tangled. Juliet also flinched, tearing the delicate tissue paper she'd been cutting.

"I'm actively not dating right now," the librarian states, conviction adding an edge to her tone.

Ms. Hanson opens her mouth, but Courtney is faster.

"Actively not dating? What does that mean?" The wolf tries leaning around me again so she can meet Juliet's eyes. "Do you chuck books at people who approach you carrying flowers?"

"Of course not," Juliet grumbles. Then she gives the table a smirk. "I value books too much."

Some of the women chuckle, and most at least crack a smile. Mrs. Applewood, who's been throwing me disgruntled looks ever since I sat down, glares at the fabric in her hands.

Suddenly, the quilter's comments from the day Warner escorted me to lunch come rushing back.

"I don't associate with dogs."

At the time, I thought she meant my mastiff. Now, I'd bet all the softest flannel in Minnie's closet that she wasn't referring to Bruce.

Guess I found another townsperson in the know. Just not an ally.