Page 41 of Knot Your Sugar Rush
“Theo Wells,” she says. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Hey, Mrs. Hannity. Think we can get into the old inventory?”
She gives me a look. “Still chasing obscure mysteries?”
“You know me. This one’s candy-related. Might be urgent.”
She chuckles and gestures to the door behind her. “You’ve got thirty minutes. Mind the steps.”
Cam follows me through the back and down a narrow staircase. The basement is cool and smells of old wood and ink. We flick on a row of flickering lights, their glow soft and warm.
Against the far wall sits a dusty card catalog.
“You’re kidding,” Cam says, eyes wide. “This is real?”
“Tell me you’ve never used one.”
She lifts her chin. “I’m twenty-four, not ninety.”
I mock gasp. “You’re just a baby.”
“You’re not that much older.”
“I’m thirty-one. That’s seven years of wisdom.”
Her smile softens. “You don’t look it.”
“Good moisturizer,” I say, then lower my voice. “It’s not a problem unless it is for you.”
She blushes, pink flooding her cheeks as she turns toward the cabinet. “It’s not.”
We search in silence. Her fingers trace the yellowing cards, delicate but intent. Then she lets out a soft sound.
“I found something. Local sweets and customs. Says there’s a book in the folklore section.”
Together, we drift through old shelves, breathing in the dust and leather bindings. It’s dim, quiet, and there’s no one down here but us. The hush feels sacred.
Cam stops in front of a tall shelf. The book is just out of reach. She stretches on tiptoe, and I step in, my body close behind hers.
Her breath catches.
I reach forward, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her back. “Let me.”
My hand brushes hers as I pluck the book free. She turns slightly, and we’re face to face. Inches apart. Her eyes searchmine, wide and uncertain. Her lips part. The air between us tightens.
She’s going to kiss me.
I don’t move. I want it too badly to risk rushing her.
But something flickers in her gaze. A shadow. Doubt. She freezes.
I shift gently, pulling the book back and taking a slow step to the side.
The spell breaks without snapping.
“Here,” I say softly, offering her the book.
She takes it, fingers brushing mine. Her smile is small but grateful.
