Page 101 of Mine To Hunt

I explain further, "I think someone is leaving these flowers deliberately..." but leave out the part where he places these for me.

Hazel nods slowly. “This is bigger than we thought, Iris. We should probably include it in the article. Maybe it’ll help the police connect the cases.”

I come back to my desk and start writing the article right away. I keep thinking about what he might have done to Justin just because he touched me. He cut off his hand. The same hand that grabbed my ass.

The thought should scare me, but instead it sends a strange thrill through me. I feel protected in a way I have never felt before.

My reasoning has changed because of that night in the bathroom. I should stay strategic and logical. I cannot let emotions cloud my judgment. He is still dangerous. He is still the man who stalks me. I cannot start seeing him as my protector.

My shift ends that day, and as I am just about to shut down my computer, a small shadow falls across my desk. I look up, expecting Hazel or one of the colleague, but instead I see a familiar hand holding a small bakery box tied with a thin string.

"Surprise."

I blink, then look up properly. Al is standing there, smiling like he has been waiting to see my reaction.

"For you." He says, holding the box out. "Open it."

I take it from him and untie the string slowly. The moment I lift the lid, the smell hits me. Warm, buttery, sweet. My face softens before I can stop it.

"Scones." I say, looking up at him. "My favorite."

"I know." He says casually, like it is nothing. "Thought you might need a pick-me-up after a long day."

A small, genuine smile spreads across my lips. It feels nice. "Al, you didn’t have to. These look amazing."

He shrugs lightly. "I was nearby anyway. Figured I’d check if you were still here." He nods toward the door. "Come on. I’ll drop you home."

"You don’t have to…"

"I know." He interrupts gently. "I want to."

I study his face for a second. He looks relaxed, easy, like he always does. No pressure. No expectation. Just Al being Al.

"…Okay." I say softly.

A few minutes later we’re sitting in his car. The door closes with a soft thud, shutting out the outside noise. The quiet inside feels comforting after a full day of voices and typing and ringing phones.

I pull one of the scones out of the box and take a bite.

I pause, surprised. “Okay… I wasn’t expecting these to be this good.”

"Told you." He says, starting the engine. "Bakery near my studio. Dangerous place. I go in for one thing and come out with ten."

I take another bite, smiling faintly. "Thank you."

"No problem." He glances at me as he pulls onto the road. "So. How was your day?"

"It was…" I pause, searching for the right word. "Busy."

"Busy good or busy bad?"

"Busy thinking." I say quietly.

He nods like he understands that answer. "You look tired."

"I didn’t sleep well."

"Nightmares?" He asks gently.