Page 16 of Knot Your Karma
“Don’t apologize. I like direct.” The way he says it, looking directly at me, makes heat pool in my stomach. “But you’re right—we should probably talk about it.”
“Right. Professional boundaries. Very important. Communication is key.” I clear my throat, which turns into a coughing fit that sounds like I’m dying. My eyes start watering. I wave my hand like that will somehow make it better, knock over the pen holder, and watch pens scatter across the floor like maritime confetti. “So we acknowledge the attraction, agree not to act on it, and focus on finding your family compass like mature adults.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“Great. I’m excellent at being reasonable. Ask anyone.” Ibend down to collect the scattered pens, bumping my head on the counter edge on the way up. “Well, don’t ask Destiny. She’ll tell you I’m a disaster who makes terrible decisions and needs constant supervision.”
“Destiny?”
“My best friend. She owns the coffee shop next door and has appointed herself my life coach, therapist, and occasionally my impulse control.” I right the pen holder and immediately start organizing the pens by color. “She’s going to have opinions about this partnership.”
“Good opinions orhide the sharp objectsopinions?”
“Probably both. She’s very protective.” I pause, realizing I should probably warn him. “Fair warning—if she thinks you’re going to hurt me, she will absolutely poison your coffee and make it look like an accident.”
“Good to know.” He seems genuinely amused by this. “I’ll make sure to stay on her good side.”
“Smart man.” I finish organizing the pens and immediately start dusting surfaces that are already clean. “So when would we start this professional, boundary-respecting partnership?”
“Today, if you’re available. I’ve got some leads to follow up on, and I’d like your input on whether they’re worth pursuing.”
Today. As in, immediately. As in, no time to panic or call Destiny or figure out how to handle this without completely destroying my life.
“Today works,” I hear myself saying, which is apparently what my mouth does when my brain completely shuts down from panic. “Let me just grab my laptop and we can?—”
His phone buzzes. He glances at it, and his entire expression shifts. The easy warmth disappears, replaced by something sharper. More focused.
Well this feel problematic.
“Hey.” Something in his tone makes my spine snapstraight like I’m in my grandmother’s church. My hands still on the counter. Even my breathing goes quiet.
Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.
“Actually,” he says, looking up at me with an intensity that makes every nerve ending in my body scream danger. “Change of plans.”
“What kind of change?” My voice comes out as barely a whisper. I clutch the edge of my counter with both hands, fighting the urge to step closer to him instead of away. My body apparently has terrible survival instincts.
He holds up his phone, and there’s something almost predatory in his smile. “Remember that dealer I mentioned yesterday? Sage Morrison?”
My vision goes spotty around the edges. I grab the counter with both hands.
Please don’t let it be what I think it is. Please let this be about literally anything else.
“Vaguely,” I lie, my voice cracking on the word.
“She just texted. Says she thinks she might have information about the compass.” His whole posture changes—shoulders squarer, stance wider, like he’s preparing for a hunt. “Wants to meet in person to discuss what she knows.”
The room tilts sideways. The pricing pens I just organized scatter across the counter as my hands shake. Declan immediately steps closer, his brow furrowing with concern, and cedar-and-rain gentles automatically.
“That’s... that’s great,” I manage to say, and my voice sounds like it’s coming from very far away. “Really great news. Super great.”
“You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
More like I’m about to become one.
“Just excited,” I squeak. “You know how I get about maritime antiques. Very... exciting stuff.”
I’m so screwed.
