Page 12 of Forget-Me-Nots and Apricots

Threedayshadpassedsince Detective Collins's visit, and I still couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that had taken root in my chest. His business card sat on my bedside table, a tangible reminder of the strange encounter and the missing Alpha named Braden Jensen.

I'd spent more time than I cared to admit searching for information about him online. There wasn't much—a sparse social media presence, a brief mention in a local newspaper about a scholarship he'd received two years ago. Nothing that explained why he'd burst into my shop looking like he'd seen a ghost, or why he'd gone missing.

The morning routine at Petal & Thorn had become a strange comfort amid the uncertainty. I found myself checking the locks twice, scanning the street before entering, always alert for any sign of trouble. Jamie had noticed, of course, but knew better than to comment directly.

"You're hovering," I told him as he restocked the display of sunflowers for the third time that morning. "I'm not fragile, you know."

"I'm just being thorough," he said, not quite meeting my eyes. "These are premium blooms. They deserve proper placement."

I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms. "Jamie."

He sighed, shoulders slumping. "Fine. I'm worried about you. Sue me."

"There's nothing to worry about," I insisted, though the tightness in my chest suggested otherwise. "The detective got what he wanted. The case has nothing to do with us."

"Then why do you keep looking over your shoulder every time the bell rings?" Jamie challenged. "And don't think I haven't noticed you checking the locks twice every morning and night."

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it again. He wasn't wrong.

"It's just a precaution," I said finally. "Nothing more. Now, can we please get back to work? Mrs. Hoffman's anniversary arrangement isn't going to make itself."

Jamie gave me a long look before nodding reluctantly. "Fine. But if anything weird happens—anything at all—you tell me. Promise?"

"Promise," I agreed, just to appease him. "Now hand me those pink roses."

The morning passed in a steady rhythm of customers and deliveries. I lost myself in the work, finding comfort in the familiar motions of trimming stems and arranging petals. By early afternoon, the nagging anxiety had receded to a dull hum in the back of my mind.

Until the bell above the door chimed, and I looked up to see him.

Not Detective Collins, as I'd half-expected. Not Braden Jensen either.

It was the other Alpha—Officer Reeves. My blood froze in my veins as Officer Reeves sauntered in, his eyes scanning the shop before landing on me with an intensity that made my skin crawl. He wore civilian clothes today—dark jeans and a gray Henley that did nothing to disguise the Alpha bulk beneath—but his stance screamed law enforcement. Or maybe just threat.

Jamie tensed beside me, his scent sharpening with anxiety. I placed a steadying hand on his arm, a silent command to stay put, before stepping forward.

"Can I help you?" I asked, my voice deliberately cool and professional. No hint of the fear curling in my stomach, no sign of the anger simmering just beneath my skin.

Reeves's mouth curved into something too sharp to be called a smile. "Just browsing." He moved through the shop with deliberate slowness, touching petals, examining price tags, all while keeping me in his line of sight.

I watched him, keeping my face carefully neutral even as my pulse quickened. Every instinct screamed to confront him, to demand he leave, but something held me back. Maybe it was the calculated way he moved, like he was hoping I'd give him a reason to retaliate.

"Beautiful shop," he commented, his voice carrying an undercurrent of mockery. "Very... quaint."

"Thank you," I replied stiffly. "Is there something specific you're looking for today?"

He picked up a delicate glass vase, turning it over in his hands with deliberate carelessness. "Just curious about the place. After our last encounter, I wanted to see what kind of... establishment you run."

I felt Jamie shift behind me, ready to intervene, but I gave a subtle shake of my head. Reeves was baiting me, and I refused to bite.

Family business, right? That's what Collins said." He asked, his voice almost nonchalant but I knew better.

I didn't answer, just held his gaze steadily across the shop. The mention of Collins's name confirmed what I already suspected—this wasn't an official visit.

"Most people who come in here actually want to buy something," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Not just waste my time."

His eyes snapped to mine, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "That's not very good customer service."

"Neither is tackling paying customers at funeral homes," I replied evenly. "Yet here we are."

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