2. 2

2

Kalle

C ollecting dirty dishes is up top of the list of things I never expected to do with my life.

But I'm not the type of business owner who never pitches in: I show up at The King's Hat when it opens and I'm usually here when it closes. If I'm not, Edie is. I pay her well to put in the hours and take on the responsibility, but there's the little voice inside me that makes sure I'm seen helping out when things need getting done, like clearing the pint glasses from the tables when my servers are getting slammed.

"Have you done Wordle today?"

I've never once tried Wordle, so I know Dillon, slumped on his stool at his usual spot at the end of the bar, isn't talking to me. I don't bother looking up from filling my bin with empty dessert plates, sticky with caramel sauce, from the table of the group who just left.

But my head jerks up when I hear the unmistakable click of high heels, plus a low wolf whistle from Dillon. "Jeez, woman, you look good. "

I glance up to see Edie. Only it's not Edie. I look again.

It's Edie, but it's not my Edie. This Edie is …

"Thanks, man , but I'm still not telling you what it is," Edie says to Dillon, fiddling with her ear. She's dressed in black, some shiny fabric that hugs her ass and… other areas, and leaves her arms bare. "I got it in four."

The bar area is quiet but the tables in the rest of the place are filled with the dinner crowd, with waitresses Leah and Bethie winding their way through with trays of plates and foaming pints. The special tonight is shepherd's pie and the scent curls in from the kitchen door and reminds me I haven't eaten yet. It's busy but not as chaotic as it will be later. Wednesday night is darts night, which means a good crowd.

But it's the dark clouds rolling in from the Atlantic, warning all of the storm blowing in, and it's going to fill up the place. A storm like that will keep in the boats in the harbour tomorrow, which means the fishermen will be looking for something to do tonight.

There are five drinking establishments in Battle Harbour, but mine always fills up first.

I make a mental note to check the kegs. Make sure Bethie gets her break after the supper rush is over. Give Tyler free rein on the bar.

It still doesn't distract me from Edie standing before me like she's waiting for my approval.

"Did you buy a dress?" I demand rudely because I can't find any other words. The words I should pull forth are incredible and stunning and sexy as hell but no go. Edie is good-looking on a regular day, long dark hair pulled back from her heart-shaped face and the constant quirk of a smile, but when she makes an effort like tonight, she's something else .

Edie's mouth twists into a frown and she's wearing lipstick. Who is this person?

Woman. This is a woman. Who is this woman ?

"I borrowed this from my sister, but yes, I own a dress," Edie says in a calm voice. It takes a lot to get a rise out of her, even with me being rude. It's unbelievable how steady she is, regardless of what she's facing down, including bad-tempered me.

I don't mean to be rude but people are just so annoying. Not Edie. She never annoys me, but she's around so much that she gets rude Kalle more than anyone else.

" U is the first letter," Edie tells Dillon, twisting her hair so it hangs over her shoulder. Her eyes are big and brown, looking more like chocolate buttons than ever.

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 in this dress when my head is still cluttered from images of her in that dress. 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 Edie cleavage.

Intermammary cleft. That's better. Nothing sexy about that .

" U doesn'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 look so—

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."

"Prince Mathias asked me to dinner, yes," she confirms, and I wish with all my being that she'd bumped into anyone —even her uber crush, Ryan Gosling—crossing the town square this morning.

"Prince Mathias, huh?" Dillon asks, glancing at me and back to Edie.

"Yes." She lifts her chin proudly. Edie is proud to be going out with Mathias Erickson, sixth in line to the throne of Laandia, and it's not because he's a prince.

She likes him.

The knot in my belly tightens even more.

"I always thought you and Maj…" Dillon begins.

Edie stops him with a hand. "Don't start."

Everyone says it and even more think it. The why aren't Kalle and Edie together has been a constant question since we started hanging out as friends, back when we were sixteen.

And it's one that is becoming more and more difficult to answer.

Edie gives the official response. "We're friends."

"Yeah, but friends… you know," Dillon points out.

"We don't," I growl. Even if we did, it'd be nobody's business but ours. But we haven't. Never. Ever. In the sixteen years of friendship, I haven't made a move on Edie. Not even when I found her crying after being dumped by Greg Kaan a week before the prom. Or that night when she studied for her mixology exam by lining up the cocktails on the bar for us to taste test.

And I was tempted that night. I'm not sure what exactly stopped me, only I did stop before I found out if Edie's lips were as soft as they looked.

She's got lipstick on tonight, a soft pink colour that shines in the bar lights. I can't look at it or I'm going to start thinking—

"You can't walk over to Nonna's looking like…" Gorgeous. The word pops into my mind, fully formed with a dozen descriptives following. Like breath-taking.

Beautiful.

"What's wrong with the way I look?" Crap . Now I've made her mad, difficult to do with Edie, even for me.

"Nothing," I growl. "Just—Mathias will expect you to be driven."

She frowns. "I told him I'd walk. How would you know what he expects? You said you don't even know him."

I turn away so she can't see my expression, which probably mirrors my face when I tried Chef's cabbage and sausage pie the other day. "I know enough," I tell her, not doing anything about the mulish tone in my voice.

"It might be nice to share some of that enough ."

I don't bother to answer because there's no point in telling Edie what I know about Mathias. I can only hope she'll figure it out for herself. "You'll turn an ankle on the cobblestones with those heels," I point out, taking another quick peek at Edie's bare legs in the process .

Other than the wedding, I think I've seen her in a dress maybe one other time; twice if you count my mother's funeral, but I wouldn't have noticed if half the town had come buck naked that day.

Edie has amazing legs; slim but strong with surprisingly delicate-looking ankles that would snap like a twig if she tripped wearing those shoes. The cobblestones through the square are a bit uneven, never fixed after the winter thaw and— "Dillon?"

"I'd be happy to escort you," Dillon supplies, sliding off his stool. "Since you helped me out with Wordle."

"I don't need…" But she stops herself with a shake of her head. She's worked at The King's Hat since we opened and she knows enough not to argue with me when I've got my mind set.

Only I'm a little confused as to why it's so set on Edie tonight.