Page 11 of Recklessly Yours

He returned the expression, then turned back to Savannah. “Picking up a carryout order.”

“Let me go see if it’s ready.” She disappeared into the kitchen.

“Can I talk to you?” He rested his forearms on the bar and angled in close enough that I could smell the mint on his breath.

Things had been quiet since I’d run into him at the coffee shop a couple of days ago. Thankfully, I’d received no more flowers or texts. Even so, maybe he’d found information about the number. I’d assumed no news was good news. Now, though, he was here, so maybe that wasn’t the case.

Apprehension settled in my stomach like a lead weight. “Um, sure.”

“Is this the guy who’s been sending you flowers?” Michael called from the other end of the bar. He and his friends had been at it again. They were clearly taking theit’s five o’clock somewherephrase too literally.

“Oh.” I shook my head. “No.”

“Flowers?” Dylan asked.

“Yeah—”

“Here you go,” Savannah said as she appeared at my side. “One to-go order for the sexy detective.”

Sometimes I thought my sister’s life goal was to see how many people she could make feel uncomfortable. But I couldn’t hide my smirk when he pretty much ignored her, keeping his gaze fixed on me as he took the bag she held out.

“Let’s talk outside.” The intense stare he was giving me told me not to argue.

And I wouldn’t. I didn’t need Savannah—any of my siblings—or The Dock’s customers up in my business, so I nodded and followed him out the door.

Once the front door shut behind us, he turned to me. “Someone sent flowers to you?” His tone was sharp, his expression rigid.

“Yeah…” I crossed my arms in front of my chest.

Why did he seem so angry? I suddenly felt like a child getting ready to be scolded.

DYLAN

Jesus.I needed to chill. Instead, I was being unreasonably angry, and all because Hattie had received flowers. Women got flowers all the time. Hattie was allowed to get flowers. She wasn’t mine. I had no right to be annoyed.

So why didn’t it sit right with me?

“What about the phone?” Her arms were still crossed, her posture still defensive. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“Yes.” Right. I came to talk to her about the phone, not to snap at her because some guy was sending her flowers. So what if she was dating someone? Good for her. I tried to relax my shoulders at that simple idea, but my body was strung tight. I needed to ignore her dating life and deal with the phone. “Definitely a burner. Bought at a gas station down the road and paid for with cash.”

She shifted from one foot to the other, grimacing. “Maybe I should be worried about the flowers, then…”

Gut clenching, I searched her face, hoping to understand the meaning behind those words. “What do you mean?”

What did receiving flowers from a man she was dating have to do with the burner phone?

“I mean I wasn’t even sure they were for me,” she added with a shrug.

Arms crossed, I narrowed my eyes, waiting for her to explain. How did a person get flowers and not know whether they were for them? That seemed like nonsense.

She sighed and flung her arms out to the sides. “The card wasn’t even signed. Or addressed to me.”

My stomach twisted painfully at that admission. The flowers were from an anonymous source?Way to bury the lede, Hattie. It was amazing how that admission could make me both relax and stress. It didn’t matter whether she wasn’t dating anyone. I couldn’t date her either way. So I needed to worry about the creep that was obviously stalking her.

“And no one texted me to ask about flowers they’d sent.”

My eyes felt like they were bugging out of my head. “Yeah, stalkers don’t typically check in with their victims.”

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