Page 86 of Forget-Me-Nots and Apricots

Morning! Sorry for being MIA. Things have been crazy. Can we talk today?

His reply came almost instantly:FINALLY! I was about to find a way to contact that detective.

I laughed softly, the sound rough from sleep, and flopped back onto the bed for a moment, holding the phone to my chest. Jamie was dramatic, but he wasn’t wrong. I had basically vanished on him, I quickly sent a text back

No. I’m okay. I’ll call you later today and we can talk.

I sat the phone on the nightstand before dragging myself out of the tangle of blankets and pillows, I padded barefoot into the bathroom, the cool tile waking me up the rest of the way. I glanced at myself in the mirror. My hair was a mess, but my eyes looked clearer. Less weighed down. Maybe knowing I am not fully alone helped with the stress.

After a quick shower and some effort to look like a human being instead of a sleepy woodland creature, I headed downstairs after I grabbed my phone, putting it in my back pocket. The smell of fresh coffee drifted through the house, and I wondered who was already up. My guess was Dakota—he seemed like the type to be up at the crack of dawn with a plan and a backup plan.

Sure enough, I found him at the kitchen counter, sleeves rolled up, flipping through a thick binder filled with notes and photos. His coffee mug sat beside him, half-full and already cooling.

“Morning,” I said, voice still a little hoarse from sleep. Dakota's head snapped up, his dark eyes finding mine immediately. For a moment, he just looked at me, his expression softening slightly before he nodded in greeting.

"Morning," he replied, his voice a low rumble. "Sleep well?"

I moved to the coffee pot, pouring myself a cup before answering. "Better than I have in days, actually." I turned to face him, leaning against the counter. "No nightmares."

Something flickered across his face—satisfaction, perhaps—before he returned to his usual stoic expression. "Good."

I gestured toward the binder. "Working already?"

Dakota nodded, closing the folder and setting it aside. "Always something to review. We have to make sure we are covering every angle."

I took a sip of my coffee, letting the warmth spread through me. "Anything helpful?"

Dakota shrugged, his broad shoulders rising and falling in a controlled motion. "Maybe. Theo's cross-referencing some data now. Should have more information soon."

I nodded, understanding that he couldn't—or wouldn't—share more details until they had something concrete. I respected that, even if part of me was anxious to know more about who might be targeting me.

Dakota gave me a long look before he sighed, “Theo's running down some leads on businesses that use the industrial cleaner we found at your apartment. Probably from the one keeping tabs on you…”

I nodded, trying not to think too hard about what could have happened if I had been there alone. "That's... good, I guess."

"It's progress," Dakota corrected, his tone gentle despite his gruff exterior. He stood, moving to the refrigerator. "You should eat something."

"I can make my own breakfast," I protested, though there was no heat in my words.

Dakota raised an eyebrow, already pulling out eggs and vegetables. "Never said you couldn't."

I rolled my eyes but didn’t stop him. There was something oddly comforting about the way he moved around the kitchen—efficient, purposeful, like he’d done this a hundred times before. Maybe he had. Or maybe this was his way of showing he cared without saying the words. Alphas and their unspoken languages.

I perched on a stool at the island, sipping my coffee and watching him crack eggs into a bowl with practiced ease. “You know,” I said, tilting my head, “for someone who growls more than he talks, you’re surprisingly domestic.”

Dakota glanced at me over his shoulder. “Don’t let that get around. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

I snorted into my mug, a slow smile creeping onto my face. Was that a joke? From Dakota, of all people? I blinked at him in surprise, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward in what might have been the beginning of a smile.

"I'm sure no one would believe me anyway," I teased, watching as he expertly diced peppers and onions with quick, precise movements. "The big, bad Alpha making omelets at seven in the morning."

Dakota's mouth twitched in what might have been a suppressed smile, but he kept his attention on cutting vegetables. "Basic survival skills. Nothing special about it."

"If you say so," I murmured, taking another sip of coffee. Dakota worked in comfortable silence, the only sounds the sizzle of the pan and the soft scrape of the spatula. There was something hypnotic about watching him cook, his movements economical and precise, much like everything else he did.

"Where are the others?" I asked, realizing I hadn't heard any movement from upstairs.

"Gabriel had an early meeting with the chief," Dakota replied, sliding a perfect omelet onto a plate. "Theo's been in his office since 5 AM reviewing data. Lucas out doing some footwork for the case."

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