Page 59 of Iron Unicorn

“Guilty as charged,” Olivia announced, grinning at me from her spot on the other armchair. “That was a good one. What are you going to do if you’re officiated as a royal talent?”

“Not take over any kingdom, that much I can assure you. I’d also not change my job. I happen to like it.” I regarded my pajamas with a resigned sigh. “I think I’ll buy a new suit, a nice one for special occasions.”

I’d also propose to a princess if she didn’t beat me to the chase, and I’d create her ring from the iron she loved, although I’d offer to take her to the store for something in gold with gemstones if she wanted.

“How about some jeans,” Olivia suggested. “You do jeans justice.”

After the talk with Carl, I read between the lines: she liked me in jeans. With that understanding, I could see dealing with casual clothes.

Sabina had never asked such things of me.

I played her game, faking a sigh. “I suppose I could be talked into buying some of these casual clothes people insist I should own.”

“Jeans,” Olivia insisted.

“There would, much to my horror and dismay, be jeans involved with such a purchase. I’d even be forced to buy several pairs.”

The woman rubbed her hands together. “Now you’re talking business. What kind of shirts are you going to get?”

If shopping for me, I would have gone with a dress shirt. However, if shopping strictly for Olivia’s enjoyment, I could make a few guesses on what she’d enjoy me wearing. “I could be talked into a polo shirt, but only if I’m also trying a game of polo.”

Olivia bounced to her feet, excused herself, and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. A moment later, she shrieked.

Women. I would never understand them, but I could only assume I’d correctly guessed what the princess wanted in her life. “I’m just going to apologize for her. Daphne, do you want to organize a friendly polo game? If I’m going to wear one of those damned shirts, at least I’ll see what the fuss is about.”

“I’m game. Will?”

“Sure.”

Olivia squealed again, and a few moments later, I heard the thump of the bathroom door closing. “I can’t tell if I should be pleased with myself for my correct guess or concerned I may have broken something in her brain. Your thoughts, Edward?”

Daphne’s fiancé sat on the sofa. “Is your empathy really that broken?”

“Probably,” I admitted. “It’s much easier to pick up things from you folks than it is for me to pick up things from her.”

His Royal Majesty of Montana snickered. “It simplifies things for him, Edward. We should be grateful he’s having no problems processing what’s going on. But the why of it is simple. In his position, if he was aware of her feelings, he would have had to address them. By being dense, he could have his close relationship with a Montana princess without anyone thinking anything of it. It was the best choice his empathy could make. Wearing blinders means he doesn’t have to do anything beyond be himself. Sorry, Terry. It’s the truth.”

I nodded. “Carl informed me, and I do believe him.” Olivia’s next squeal did a good job of making me laugh. “Through two doors? Seriously? It’s a polo shirt. I could understand that reaction if I offered to put on swim shorts. Icansurf, but I don’t wear a speedo when I do it. I usually go for a wetsuit. I dislike hypothermia.”

“My sister will lose her mind if she gets the thought into her head of you surfing.”

Snickering a storm, I went to the bedroom, cracked open the door, and snagged my cell phone off the nightstand before retreating back to my armchair. I sent Olivia’s brother a collection of photos of me surfing in California. “I want to teach my queen how to surf as she expressed interest in it. That’s usually where I’m going if I get more than a few days off duty.”

“I’ll pay you off with a whole new kit of surf gear if you think of me as Will when you’re off duty.”

As I needed a new surfboard due to an accident involving a rock, I decided my professionalism could die a terrible death when off duty. “You’re on, Will.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why did you not even hesitate?”

As I never surfed alone and had a collection of RPS surfer friends in California, who took pictures often because one happened to be a photographer, I sent him pictures of my close encounter with a rock. Fortunately, I’d escaped without serious injury, but my board had gone out in a glorious display of splinters.

“Okay, judging from your status as lively, that did not actually kill you, but that looks horrible.”

Will’s phone made the rounds, evoking whistles from everyone.

“The board took the hit. I used my talent to sever my tether and dived for sandier waters. I got a few bruises, but that was it. I scared the liver out of those with me. I do not surf alone. That picture is why.”

“Smart man. I won’t show that one to my sister. Got any shots of you conquering a big wave?”

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