Page 8 of Forget-Me-Nots and Apricots

Gabriel Collins

Head Detective.

I didn’t read anymore as my lip curled and a low growl left my throat as I tossed the card to the side.

"I don't think we have any more business," I said, turning away to focus on the arrangement in front of me, as if the head detective was nothing more than a minor distraction. "Unless you're here to apologize on behalf of your trigger-happy colleague."

I could feel his eyes on me, studying my movements as I clipped stems with more force than necessary. The scent of him—clean, expensive cologne with undertones of coffee and something distinctly Alpha—filled the small shop, making the space feel even more confined.

"Actually, I'm here to apologize for Officer Reeves' behavior. It was unprofessional and unwarranted." The detective's expression remained carefully neutral, those blue eyes studying me with an unsettling intensity.

I blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. An Alpha apologizing? To an Omega? The universe must be having a laugh.

"Right," I said flatly. "I'm sure you are."

Jamie shifted uncomfortably beside me, clearly sensing the tension building. "Viv, maybe we should—"

"It's fine, Jamie," I cut him off, eyes never leaving the detective's face. "I'm sure Detective Collins won't be staying long."

The detective's mouth quirked up at one corner, not quite a smile. "Actually, I'd like to speak with you. Privately, if possible."

I glanced at Jamie, whose eyes had widened to the size of dinner plates. He was already backing toward the storage room. "I'll just... inventory. The back. Yes." And with that eloquent exit, he was gone, leaving me alone with the head detective.

"Coward," I muttered under my breath.

"Smart," Detective Collins corrected. "He recognizes when to make a tactical retreat."

I set down my scissors carefully, wiping my hands on my apron before crossing my arms. "What do you want, Detective? I have a business to run, and contrary to what your department seems to think, I'm not in the habit of being manhandled by law enforcement during my deliveries."

He nodded, "Your complaint is valid. Officer Reeves overstepped. I've already placed Officer Reeves on administrative duty while we investigate the incident."

I raised an eyebrow, not bothering to hide my skepticism. "Well, that's certainly a novel approach. Usually I just get told to be more careful, or to stop looking so suspicious." I picked up my coffee cup, taking a deliberate sip while maintaining eye contact. "So what's different this time? My sparkling personality? Or is it because I threatened to file a formal complaint?"

"You didn't threaten anything," he pointed out, those blue eyes watching me carefully. "That's what caught my attention."

I set my cup down with a sharp click against the countertop. "Should I have? Would that have made more sense to you, Detective? An Omega causing a scene, making demands?"

"Actually," he said, voice softening slightly, "it would have made more sense if you had. Most people who are wrongfully detained make formal complaints. They demand compensation, threaten lawsuits. They don't just walk away with their head held high, demanding nothing."

"Maybe I'm not most people," I replied, busying myself with rearranging the flowers in front of me. "Or maybe I've learned that complaints don't get Omegas very far in this city."

I retorted, reaching for another stem. The thorns pricked my fingers as I handled it roughly, but I ignored the sting. "And I don't intimidate easily."

"Clearly." There was something in his tone that made me look up. Not mockery or condescension, but something that almost sounded like... respect? No, that couldn't be right.

"Is that all, Detective? Apology delivered, conscience clear?" I raised an eyebrow at him, hoping he would just leave.

He leaned slightly against the counter, his height even more apparent as he towered over the flower displays.

"Actually," he said, his voice dropping to a more serious tone, "there's another reason for my visit."

I stiffened, my fingers stilling on the rose stem. "Oh?"

Detective Collins reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a small photograph, sliding it across the counter toward me. "Do you recognize this young man?"

I glanced down, my breath catching in my throat. The picture showed the same wild-eyed Alpha who had burst into my shop days ago—the one who'd looked desperate and panicked before fleeing.

"Maybe," I said carefully, keeping my expression neutral. "Why?"

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