Page 50 of Knotting With A Stranger

What surprises me is how they also flick to Hunter, lingering on the breadth of his shoulders, the strong line of his jaw. There’s interest there—subtle but unmistakable. My body tenses, not with jealousy but with a sudden, predatory awareness.

Hunter catches it, too. Our eyes meet over Lily’s head. His eyebrow raises a fraction—a question. I give a barely perceptible nod—permission.

“I called my sister,” Lily tells him, accepting a mug of chocolate. “Well, sent a message through the antique store. She knows I’m safe now.”

“That’s good,” Hunter adds. “Family shouldn’t have to worry.”

Lily smiles up at him, and I watch the effect it has on my oldest friend—like a man seeing the sun after months of darkness. It’s the same effect she had on me moments earlier.

“Don’t let him fool you with the intellectual routine,” Hunter warns, eyes twinkling, glancing over at me, Lily’s stare following. “Man’s got a storage unit full of switchblades and another with vintage motorcycle parts. Regular Jekyll and Hyde.”

“Really?” She turns to me with renewed interest. “Switchblades?”

I shrug. “I appreciate craftsmanship in all its forms.”

“He’s being modest,” Hunter continues. “Show her the one you’re carrying.”

Lily’s eyes widen. “You’re armed?”

I reach into my pocket and withdraw a folding knife, pressing the release to expose the blade. It’s Italian, hand-forged in the1950s, with a mother-of-pearl handle inlaid with silver filigree. Beautiful and lethal in equal measure.

She doesn’t recoil as many would. Instead, she leans closer, studying the blade with open admiration. “It’s gorgeous,” she murmurs. “Functional art.”

“Exactly,” I say, oddly pleased by her assessment.

Hunter watches our exchange with knowing eyes. “Arch here has expensive taste ineverything.”

Lily’s cheeks flush, but she doesn’t look away from either of us. If anything, her posture becomes more confident, chin lifting in silent challenge.

“And what about you?” she asks Hunter directly. “What do you collect?”

“Trouble, mostly,” he answers with a wolfish grin.

I close the knife and pocket it, never taking my eyes off Lily as she banters with Hunter. The storm howls outside, but inside this room, something else entirely is brewing—something wild and hungry that sparks between all of us like electricity before a lightning strike.

And for the first time since Hunter found her stranded on that snowy road, I find myself hoping the storm lasts a very long time.

13

LILY

The warmth of the hot chocolate seeps through the ceramic mug into my palms as I stand close, trying not to stare at Archer’s hands as they trace the aged parchment on the table. The treasure map—well, half of one anyway—sprawls across the polished mahogany. The corners are held down by various objects—a silver paperweight shaped like a wolf, my mug, Archer’s compass, and Hunter’s heavy leather-bound journal.

“These coordinates here.” Archer points to the edge of the map. “They might lead to the entrance of the old mining system, but we’ve never been able to pinpoint it.”

Hunter leans forward, his broad shoulders blocking the warm glow of the fireplace. “The topography’s changed significantly since this was drawn. Landslides, forest growth… nature has a way of reclaiming what’s hers.”

I take a sip of my chocolate, enjoying the rich sweetness as I inspect the faded lines. “Have you tried using modern satelliteimaging and overlaying the old map?” I suggest, reaching out to trace a mountain range with my fingertip over the glass top.

Hunter’s eyes light up. “That’s?—”

The study door creaks open, interrupting whatever he was about to say. James stands there, taking in the scene—me, Archer, and Hunter huddled over the treasure map—with a slow, measured stare that lingers on my face just long enough to make my cheeks burn.

His mouth curves into that knowing smile that sets my pulse racing, despite my determination to remain unaffected. He saunters into the room with his casual confidence, closing the door behind him with a soft click that somehow feels final, like the turning of a lock.

“So, have we officially got a fourth treasure hunter with us?” He directs the question to Archer and Hunter but keeps his attention fixed on me. “She knows our secret now...”

He winks, and suddenly, I can’t breathe. My lungs forget their fundamental function as James slides into the armchair nearby, stretching his long legs toward the fire as shadows dance across his face, highlighting those sharp cheekbones.

---