Page 17 of The Sweet Chef and the Corporate Queen

"We've made excellent time," Declan assures me. "But the final stretch has a fork in the trail. We need to take the right path."

I consult the map again. "It says to follow Trail 4B to the west junction, then take the northwest path."

"Which would be the right fork," he confirms.

"I know that," I say, perhaps too defensively. "I can read a compass."

"Never suggested otherwise."

We walk for another fifteen minutes before coming to the promised fork. I check the compass, frowning at the reading.

"Something wrong?" Declan asks.

"No," I say quickly. "Just confirming."

The truth is, the compass reading doesn't match what I expected. According to it, the left fork actually heads northwest, not the right one. But the map clearly shows we should continue on Trail 4B, which has been consistently marked on the right paths.

"Left or right?" Declan prompts when I hesitate.

My pride gets the better of me. I've successfully navigated us this far; I don't need his help now.

"Right," I say with more confidence than I feel. "We stay on Trail 4B."

Declan glances at the trail markers, a slight frown crossing his features. "Are you sure? The markings here indicate?—"

"I'm sure," I interrupt. "According to the map, we continue on 4B to reach the final checkpoint."

He hesitates, then shrugs. "You're the navigator."

We take the right fork, and I ignore the small voice suggesting I'm being stubborn. The path climbs steadily upward, becoming narrower and less maintained than the earlier sections. After about twenty minutes, I begin to suspect we've made a wrong turn.

The trail markers have changed color, and the path is becoming increasingly overgrown. I discreetly check the map again, trying to determine where we might have gone wrong.

"Lost?" Declan asks casually.

"Of course not," I respond automatically. "Confirming our position."

"Because these aren't Trail 4B markers anymore. We're on 5A now."

I stop walking, finally admitting to myself that we've gone astray. "That can't be right."

Declan points to a faded blue blaze on a nearby tree. "Blue is Trail 5. We should be following red markers for Trail 4."

I check the compass again, this time more carefully, and realize my error. The needle was pointing toward magnetic north, not true north, and I didn't account for the declination.

"The compass reading was correct," I admit reluctantly. "We should have gone left."

Instead of the smugness I expect, Declan just nods. "Happens to everyone. Mountain trails can be tricky."

"We should turn back," I say, already calculating how much time we've lost.

"We could," he says, studying the map over my shoulder. His proximity sends an unwelcome shiver down my spine. "Or we could continue on 5A. It eventually loops around to the final checkpoint from the north side."

"That's not the assigned route."

"True, but it's a more scenic detour. Plus, no one said we had to take the most direct path."

I weigh our options, acutely aware that my mistake has likely cost us the competition. "How much longer will it take?"

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