Crown Jewels (Off-Limits Romance #1)(26)

“Sure is.”

My bestie is obsessed with Native American culture. I’m pretty sure it has something to do with her love of Western-themed romance novels. She claims her great-grandmother was a Creek Indian, but that’s what everybody in Georgia says. It’s basically some kind of collectively perpetuated urban legend.

I watch Am ooh and aah over jewelry for almost an hour before she stacks the counter with four necklaces, two pairs of earrings, one bracelet, and a necklace I find when we walk outside is meant for me.

“Look,” she says, pointing to the tiny turtle hanging from the chain. “The turtle is meant to keep you calm and grounded. And this stone on his back—” it’s emerald-ish green— “is malachite. Ancient peoples wore it as a good luck charm to ward off illness and keep the mind stable.”

My jaw drops open, even as I snatch the little turtle from her. “You think I’m not stable?”

She shrugs. “You are preggo now. That’s the illness part. This turtle will help keep you and Little Biscuit healthy.”

I slide the necklace over my head. “Are you seriously calling my royal spawn Little Biscuit?”

“Aww, of course I am! C’mon Lucy, it’s adorable!” Am is beaming as we start off down the sidewalk. “I’m going to be an aunt.”

I nudge her in the ribs. “Shh! Someone might hear.”

“Oops, you’re so right. Sorry.” She leans over to whisper, “You should probably avoid the term royal spawn.”

I’m laughing when we pass an art boutique and my thoughts turn to Dash—as I remember him. I try to add sexy stubble and hipster glasses, but I just can’t picture him grown up. My eyes rise to Amelia’s. “Is your boss missing you?”

She puffs her breath out, wearing the kind of miserable face I know she intends to be a neutral face. Amelia is terrible at hiding her feelings. “No idea.” She rolls her eyes—at herself, I think.

“Well, has he texted?”

She gives me a funny look: slightly widened eyes and a pinched mouth. “Why would he?”

I just about buy it—until I see her nostrils flare.

“Am! He is texting!”

She grins, shaking her head; the smile dims quickly, her expression falling solemn. “I’m a fool.” She sighs.

“I think I need to see a picture of this new Dash. You said something about hipster glasses back in Southampton, yeah?”

She stops mid-sidewalk, scrolling through her phone. Her blue eyes flicker up at mine. Then, with her lips twisted—half smirk, half frown—she hands the phone to me.

“Oh wow. That’s like…really wow.” I bite my lower lip as I look at grown-up Dash doing the same. He’s bending over a big, slanted desk, a pencil in his hand, charcoal lines rising up on his white paper. He’s got black hipster glasses, longish, wavy, honey-brown hair, and an absolutely fucking gorgeous face adorned with stubble. “Lordy. You’ve got my blood pumping.”

She nods. “He’s good with his hands.” Her brow quirks as I hand her phone back.

“Well, I understand your venture into Idiotville a little more.”

Amelia actually looks ashamed of herself, which makes me want to ask more questions. I don’t get a chance before she hits me with one. “What does Liam do? He doesn’t have a job exactly, does he?”

I shake my head. “Well, sort of. I did a little reading online last night and read that when he turns a certain age, he’ll start having to participate in Gael’s government. There’s a position waiting with his name on it, but until he’s old enough to fill the role, other people kind of do it. Plus, his dad. When Liam is forty, no matter how old his dad is or what’s going on with him—even if he’s the best king ever—Liam will become king.”

I hear Amelia’s phone ring in her purse and make a grab for it. “Is that Dash?”

She snatches it back, blushing as she turns partway away from me, so she can examine her screen in privacy.

I hear another ding and frown. Or maybe that’s my phone. It dings again, and I’m sure it’s my phone. I pull it out. A group text from Mags. ‘What are you guys up to?’

Amelia’s phone dings again, too. I glance at her to find her frowning, with a crease between her brows. I watch her lips purse.

“What?” I ask.

Her wide eyes lift to mine, then dart back to her phone’s screen.

My phone dings again.

‘What up?’ It’s Charley this time.

That’s a little weird.

I text her back, ‘Walking around downtown with Am. What’s up with you?’

I copy the text and paste it as a reply to Mags as well. And find Amelia still glued to her phone.

“Everything okay?”

She nods, but she looks troubled.

“Birth control alarm,” she mumbles.

“That’s what kept going off?”

She drops her phone into her purse and nods. “So…candy store?”

I stride ahead. “I need some taffy. And vanilla cream soda.” I sigh, smiling.

“And after that, your place?” she asks. “I forgot my pill.”

“Uh-oh. Yeah. We can go now if you want to.”

“Nah.” She smiles, but she looks weird. Distracted.