Page 54 of Forget-Me-Nots and Apricots

Lucas leaned forward, his interest seemingly genuine rather than performative. "Gabriel said his mother was obsessed with preserving knowledge. Said she believed every plant had a story worth telling."

"She wasn't wrong," I replied, taking another bite of the sandwich. The spice was perfect—just enough to add interest without overwhelming the other flavors. "Plants have been telling their stories for millions of years. We're just not always good at listening."

Lucas smiled, a softer expression than his usual playful grin. "You remind me of her sometimes. The way Gabriel described her, at least." At my surprised look, he continued, "Not physically—she was tall, blonde and a Beta.”

“She sounds like she was wonderful.” I put the book back down and took another bit of my sandwich.

“We didn’t meat Gabriel till he was twenty-one, so we didn’t get to know her…but we have been told stories.” Lucas told me, as he glanced back at the drawing again. “It is beautifully done though. You don’t see things like that much anymore.”

"It's almost like we've lost something in the digital age," I mused, taking another bite of the sandwich. "Everything's so perfect now, but there was something special about the human hand rendering these plants, the slight imperfections that make them feel alive."

Lucas leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You sound like Theo. He's always going on about the 'soul' of analog things." He grinned, a boyish charm lighting up his features. "I'm more of a modern convenience guy myself."

"Let me guess," I said, returning his smile. "You'd choose a smartphone over a leather-bound journal any day?"

"Guilty as charged," he admitted with a theatrical sigh. "Though I can appreciate the aesthetics of old things. Just prefer my books in digital form where I can adjust the font size."

I laughed, feeling unexpectedly relaxed in his company. There was an ease to Lucas that I hadn't fully appreciated before—a lightness that balanced the intensity of the other Alphas.

"I have to admit," I said, selecting a grape from the plate, "I didn't expect to find such a magnificent library in a house full of law enforcement Alphas."

Lucas leaned back, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "We're full of surprises. Dakota's secretly a decent cook, Theo can recite poetry in three languages, and Gabriel..." he paused, a mischievous glint in his eye, "Gabriel has the most extensive vinyl record collection you've ever seen. Classical, mostly, but don't get him started on jazz unless you want a three-hour lecture on the evolution of music."

"Really?" I couldn't hide my surprise. The stoic, controlled Alpha didn't strike me as a music lover, but the saying goes ‘don’t judge a book by it’s cover’ really does apply to people.

"Music is his escape," Lucas explained. "When a case gets too heavy or he needs to clear his head, he disappears into his room and puts on a record. The volume's never high, but we all know not to disturb him when the music starts."

I tried to picture Gabriel lost in music, those intense blue eyes closed as he let the notes wash over him. The image was unexpectedly intimate, and I felt my cheeks warm slightly.

"What about you?" I asked, deliberately changing the subject. "What's your secret talent?"

Lucas grinned, a boyish charm lighting up his face. "Who says it's a secret? I'm an open book."

"Everyone has something," I insisted, popping another grape into my mouth. "Something that doesn't fit their obvious persona."

He studied me for a moment, amusement dancing in his eyes but I could see a a hint of self-consciousness crossing his features. "Promise not to laugh?"

"No guarantees," I replied, smiling over the rim of my water glass.

"I build model ships," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Historically accurate, down to the tiniest details. Started when I was a kid and never stopped.”

I blinked, genuinely surprised. "Model ships? Like... sailing vessels?"

Lucas nodded, a hint of pride breaking through his self-consciousness. "Eighteenth and nineteenth-century warships, mostly. The craftsmanship of those vessels was incredible—the way they balanced function and beauty, strength and grace." His eyes lit up as he spoke, passion evident in his voice. "Each one takes months to complete. All those tiny riggings and sails..."

"That's actually really impressive," I said, leaning forward with genuine interest. "I wouldn't have pegged you for having that kind of patience."

He laughed, the sound warm and rich. "Most people don't. I've got a reputation for being impulsive, but there's something calming about focusing on something so detailed. Forces you to slow down, be present."

"I understand that completely," I replied, then gave a grin of genuine interest, "I'd love to see them sometime.” The image of this playful, energetic Alpha hunched over delicate rigging and miniature details was endearing in a way I hadn't expected.

Lucas's face brightened. "Really? Most people's eyes glaze over when I start talking about the difference between a brigantine and a Braque."

"I appreciate craftsmanship," I said simply, finishing the last of my sandwich. "And patience. Building those must take incredible focus."

"It's meditative," Lucas admitted, a thoughtful expression replacing his usual grin. "Like your flowers, I imagine. When you're working, arranging stems and blooms, everything else fades away."

"Exactly," I agreed, surprised by his insight. "It's like the world narrows down to just your hands and what you're creating."

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