Page 7 of Royal Rising

I lean the dirty dishes bin against the bar and give her a good look up and down—and then wish I hadn’t because, damn, she looks good, and I don’t need to be thinking that about my best friend. “Never seen you wear one,” I grumble.

“A dress? Did you miss the fact I wore a turquoise bridesmaid’s dress less than a week ago?” she asks, dark eyes narrowed like I’m an obnoxious patron after a few too many pints. “I was right beside you when we walked out of the church.”

I don’t want to think about Edie inthisdress when my head is still cluttered from images of her inthatdress. The dress shows off her little waist and the curve of her hips, creamy shoulders and a hint of cleavage—

She’s got it going on in this dress too.

There’s no way I can call what’s going on in the front of Ediecleavage.

Intermammary cleft. That’s better. Nothing sexy aboutthat.

“Udoesn’t help,” Dillon complains, studying his phone. “I have no idea what this word is and I’ve one guess left.”

Dillon, the head of my four-man security detail, parks his butt at the bar when he’s on duty, solving every puzzle he can get his hands on. A former Marine, pushing sixty with a bald head, grizzled beard, and shoulders that take up two spots at the bar, Dillon has a daily competition with Edie to see who can get the Wordle word of the day.

Edie usually wins. She’s smart. Smarter than anyone gives her credit for.

Now she leans over Dillon’s shoulder. “You smell good,” he says with the appreciation of a man who hasn’t gone on a date in however long he’s been working for the castle. Or at least a date I know about. Chase, the second member of my team and currently washing dishes in the kitchen—his choice—is fairly vocal about his dating prowess but Dillon has never chimed in.

“What’s your favourite bra size?” Edie asks him.

Dillon gives her a quizzical look before turning back to his phone. “Double D,” he cries. “Udder.”

Edie pats him on the shoulder. “Good boy.”

I drift closer, not needing to get a sniff of her good scent, but… just because. “Where you off to?” I ask, trying to sound casual like Edie looked like this on a regular basis.

She rarely takes a night off unless I force her, so no, she doesn’t look like this on a regular basis.

That I know of, I guess.

Usually, it’s jeans and a T-shirt, with running shoes because she’s always on her feet. Not those strappy things with the sky-high heels that make her legs lookso—

Nope. Not looking at her legs.

“The woman has the evening off, so as far as I’m concerned, she doesn’t have to answer to the likes of you, Maj.” If Dillon used that tone on anyone else, they’d be backing down quicker than he can jump off that stool, which is pretty fast. And technically, he shouldn’t call me Maj, because I’m not about to be king anytime soon.

“Last time I looked, I sign your paycheck,” I remind him.

“Aye, but I like her better’n you.” He winks at Edie, who smiles widely, dimples marring her cheeks like the indent of lips on a good head of stout.

I raise my eyes skyward. “There’s no respect,” I mutter.

Being the next in line to the throne of Laandia means I’ve had to put up with a security detail since I moved out of the castle. Dillon and Chase have been with me for about six years since I bought The King’s Hat. They’re the best of the bunch.

“All sorts of respect,Your Highness,but we still like Edie more than you. But still—m’lady—” Dillon drawls, bowing his head and using his nickname for Edie rather than his usual “woman.” “Where you off to looking like a million bucks?”

“I have a date.” Is it me or does Edie sound proud of the fact? “Dinner at Nonna’s.”

Nonna’s Ristorante is one of two decent restaurants in town, the other being Daily Catch, the best seafood place in all of Laandia.

I say that because I became the owner last year.

There are other places to eat in Battle Harbour, but when I say decent, I mean a place to take a girl out for a good meal.

I really don’t care where Edie is going—it’s who she’s going with that has my insides tangled into a knot no sailor is going to be able to undo. Because if this is a date, unless she met someone on her way back from getting coffee this morning, Edie’s date is with Mathias Erickson.

I don’t bother trying to hide my grimace. “With my cousin.”

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