Knot Beneath the Mistletoe

21

GARRETT

M y fingers drum against the desk in my office, each tap echoing my growing frustration. Five fucking days of radio silence from Ruby, and it’s eating me alive. The snow’s been coming down hard outside, turning the brewery’s courtyard into a winter wasteland that matches my mood.

Knox hasn’t stopped pacing since he got here. His usual easy-going nature is nowhere to be found. He’s all tense shoulders and grinding teeth as he stares out the window. Even his designer outdoor gear looks rumpled, as if he’s been sleeping in it. Knowing him, he probably has.