Page 44 of Knot Her Beta

Chapter Twelve

Emily

“Shit.” Jared’s curse cuts through the comfortable quiet of the cabin.

I glance up from my ginger tea to find him staring over my shoulder, and turn to see what caught his attention. Through the glass, the woods lie in darkness, and the water beyond the pines is a flat sheet of black.

We’d gotten caught up talking over after-dinner drinks, enjoying each other’s company, and more than missed the last water taxi back to the mainland.

Leif drags a hand through his mauve hair. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize how late it had gotten.”

Jared claps him on the shoulder. “None of us did.”

Leif’s eyes cut to the door and the darkness beyond the windows, then back to us. “Will Mixie be okay? She’ll miss dinner.”

Jared waves it off, his fingers still wrapped around his beer. “She’ll be fine for the night. She can do without a wet food dinner. The vet says she’s fat.”

A laugh bursts out of me. “Shut up about her weight, you absolute menace. She’s healthy.”

“The floor shakes when she jumps off her favorite window perch. You’ve been spoiling her with too many treats.”

I huff at him.

He grins, unrepentant, as I pull out my phone to shoot Blake a text.

Emily

Stuck on the island. Okay if we crash?

The response comes back fast enough that I’m still holding the phone when it buzzes.

Blake

You know where the blankets are in the office.

Unless you want one of the suites?

Emily

Office is fine. Thanks.

Blake

As I pocket the phone, I catch Leif watching me, his periwinkle eyes uncertain, and his shoulders rigid beneath his sweater.

“Blake has us covered,” I reassure him.

His shoulders droop. “I’m sorry, I don’t have a spare bedroom to set you guys up in.”

“No worries.” I stand and gather cups. “This was unplanned. And the Homestead has plenty of room.”

Jared stacks plates without being asked, carrying the tower to the sink, and Leif washes them while I dry.

We move around each other in the same rhythm we fell into while cooking, shoulders and hips and elbows catching in the narrow space. Leif’s arm brushes mine when he reaches for the sponge, and Jared’s fingers graze my waist as he passes behind me with the last of the silverware, the touch familiar enough that I don’t track it.

When we finish, Leif pulls on his boots and grabs a hefty flashlight. “I’ll walk you guys over.”

Leif locks the cabin door behind us, and we walk down the steps from the porch and step onto the hay-covered path.