Page 36 of Hooked on a Witch
Chapter Eight
Shannon watched cinnamon buns cool on top of the stove. Her mom used to make sure all freezers remained stocked with a ready-to-bake pan. Thank goodness she’d found one in the freezer today and frozen frosting. Ingredients to bake the buns from scratch, which she could do, required grocery shopping and time. This wasn’t a vacation stop over. Fresh food would spoil if she left it. There was no guarantee she could get back here again to use the food or that she’d even be alive to return.
The heavenly smell of sugary cinnamon reminded her of hundreds of breakfasts with too much food, a lot of laughing, and family. There hadn’t been any family get-togethers since her mom died and no laughing. Without her mom everything was broken.
The responsibility to cook the buns now fell to her. She’d been so wrapped up in finding the Trident that she’d forgotten the importance of this, not just for herself, but also for everyone else. The druids needed her. Her father needed her. Her fellow Pleiades ladies needed her. They needed her to remain strong, bake buns, and save their lives.
Ask Merck to help.
Frosting the buns relaxed her. She wanted Merck to like the food. He deserved buns for risking his life for her and then healing her, even if his method involved almost drowning. The memory of him in action, fighting the snake creatures, amazed her. He’d been cool, relentless, and totally in charge, whereas she’d been a mess. She prided herself on her ability to deal with magical weirdness, but one ensorcelled snake and she’d lost it.
Give yourself a break. It was a monster snake that wanted to kill you.
She felt Merck’s presence before he entered. Her heart beat in her throat, leaving her breathless. The spatula fell to the floor. A few kisses, saving her life, and now she fell apart when he appeared too?
“Tea or coffee?” She recovered the spatula and faked busyness by cleaning droplets of frosting off the stove.
His gaze darted to the percolating coffeemaker. “Coffee works. Black.”
The kitchen shrank when he swung the door shut behind him as if circumventing any plans she had of making a break for it.
“I’m sorry I don’t have much to offer. I’ve got cinnamon buns, though.”
“That sounds nice, but Shannon…” Merck’s low voice sent chills down her spine.
“Yes?” She moved the cinnamon buns to the table and handed him his coffee.
“We need to talk.”
“You’re right.” She placed two plates on the table and served each of them a bun. Jittery, she took the seat across from him.You have no reason to be nervous.There were things to talk about. Big things. Yet, she wanted him to like the buns.
He sipped his coffee in silence, eyebrows raised. She fought not to squirm.
“What?” she finally said, pushing her still-damp hair away from her face. “Do I have frosting on my nose or something?”
A grin split his face. “Frosting? Were you sampling before you used it?”
“A good chef always tastes the food before serving. It’s good frosting.”
Her stomach flipped when he laughed, low and quiet. Humor fled his eyes. The somber man now evaluating her was an entirely different person than the one who’d just grinned.
She crossed her arms.
“Tell me what’s going on.” He didn’t ask. He demanded.
“About what specifically?”
“Let’s start with what attacked us. You truly don’t know what they were?”
“No.”
“Ericthonians. They’re the minions of Athena. She sends them out whenever she wants something or she’s mad. Does she have a reason to be angry with you?”
“The goddess Athena?”
He nodded.
“You said those creatures could be after you, not me.”
