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When we’re both ready to go, we meet in the living room. Heading out the front door, I say, “Let me check the mail really quick.”

“It’s still early. Do you think the carrier has been by yet?”

“Probably not, but I’m expecting a check.”

“Who’s it from?”

“Tea Rose Floral. A customer requested locally grown flowers for an event order, so they contacted me. The owner said she’d send the check weeks ago, but it still hasn’t arrived.”

Alas, the mailbox is empty.

“Are you worried she didn’t send it?” Noah asks.

“No,” I say. “My neighbor said she saw someone snooping around the mailbox. It made me nervous.”

“I’ll add a security camera to the system,” he promises. “If they come back, we’ll get an alert.”

My cell phone rings as we’re walking back to Noah’s SUV, and I don’t recognize the number. It might be a spam call, but it could be a customer.

“Hello?” I answer, deciding to risk it.

“Is this Piper?” a woman asks. “My name is Kayla. I got your number from my brother, Sam. He said he spoke to you this morning?”

“Hi, Kayla,” I say, relaxing. “Sam said you want flowers for a birthday party?”

Noah opens the passenger side door for me, ever the gentleman, and I slide into the seat.

“That’s right,” Kayla says. “The party is next weekend, and I want a few cheerful arrangements for the gift and cake table.”

“If you’d like, we can set up a meeting. I’ll take pictures of my current stock so you can review your options. Do you live in the Glenwood Springs area?”

“I do.” We plan to meet at a local coffee shop after she gets off work tomorrow.

Noah looks concerned when I end the call, keeping his eyes on the road as he pulls onto the I-70 eastbound ramp. “Do you normally meet with clients in the evening?”

“For special event orders, sometimes. I like to let them pick the flowers, and I show them my portfolio to help them with ideas. Besides, meeting at a public place is safer than inviting them to my house or going over to their house.”

“Do you care if I go with you?”

“You can if you want, though I’m not too worried about it.”

Maybe it would bother some women that he’s being protective, but those women probably never had a vampire stalker. I get why Noah is nervous, and I like having someone watching out for me.

“I’ll carry your portfolio,” he jokes. “If I remember correctly, that was part of my tenant agreement.”

“Oh, that’s right—you’re supposed to pull my wagon and sit next to me at markets. Well then, consider yourself my honorary employee.”

With that decided, we focus on our mini road trip.

But on the way to Denver, Noah takes three separate work calls. They’re routed through the hands-free speaker in the vehicle. I stay quiet, not sure I should be listening, but unable to help it.

There’s a suspected vampire gone rogue in Denver, preying on homeless people. Another hunter needs help filling out a form H702, whatever that is. The last call is from a hunter informing Noah he tracked down a vampire with out-of-date contact information, and the file is now current.

When Noah hangs up, I say, “You went from babysitting pre-vamps, to a hunter, to babysitting hunters.”

He laughs, but he sounds tired. “That’s accurate.”

“Do you hate it?”