Page 24 of Heavy Crown

“You went to university in England, right? What about scones? We could set up a proper cream tea.” She takes on a mock British accent that almost sounds South African.

“Your accent is ridiculous.”

“It was bad? It was supposed to be British.”

“Terrible. Unrecognizable.”

“Means I need more practice.” She stifles a laugh. “Watch out! I’ll be doing it every day now.”

“Lord help my ears.” My gaze runs over her delighted expression, and something stirs in my chest. I’ve never had conversations with anyone like I’m having with this woman.

I like it far too much.

I shouldn’t have gone into the grocery store, or I shouldn’t have allowed Rory to come in. But the combination of the two of us wandering the aisles with a cart and two burly guards is drawing a lot of attention.

“Everyone is videotaping us and taking pictures and pretending they’re not.” Rory speaks out of the side of her mouth while she drops things from the shelves of the baking aisle into the cart.

“I’m aware,” I mutter. “Is it possible to go a little faster?”

“Excuse me, Your Highness?” A guy in an apron is behind Kane, and he peeks out around the guard’s shoulders.

I nod to Kane, who turns to address the employee. “Is there something we can help you with?”

If he wants a selfie or to know whether he can share our appearance in his store on social media, it’s going to be a no, even if several other people seem to be doing it without my permission. Still, it’s interesting to be in a grocery store after so many years. Everything in neat, ordered rows. At least Rory seems to be thoroughly enjoying herself. Well, except for her penchant for checking the price and comparing it to other things on the shelf as though we’re pinching pennies. The instinct to be cheap is slowing us down.

“I’ll pay for everything. No need to price check. Put stuff in the cart.” I keep my voice low.

“I can’t let you pay,” she whispers back. “There’s nothing wrong with being thrifty.”

“Your Highness,” Kane says from behind me.

I rotate to face him. “That was the store manager. There’s quite a crowd gathering outside with some reporters arriving just now. Management has locked the doors so you can shop in peace.”

I suck in a deep breath. “Essentials only, Rory. Maybe next time you’ll listen to me when I say something like this is a bad idea.”

“Might not have been a terrible idea if you hadn’t come.” She purses her lips in annoyance. “You’re not exactly anonymous.”

“Neither are you,” I retort. “You just don’t realize it yet.” I turn to Torres. “Get bread—”

“I can make my own,” Rory says.

“Milk, eggs.” I motion to Rory to continue my list. “Now is your chance. We’re not staying much longer. What else?”

She rattles off items, and it’s longer than I expected, so I send Kane with Torres. Perhaps not the best plan to have both our guards go on a food-finding mission, but the store isn’t huge, and the front door is locked to new people.

“If the front door is locked…” Rory’s expression turns hopeful.

“If the front door is locked, the store is probably losing customers. Unless we’ll be doing enough shopping for several households, our presence here isn’t helping this store right now.”

She runs a hand through her hair and then sweeps it over her shoulder. “I didn’t think of that.”

The guards return with their arms full of food before we’re out of the baking aisle. I let out a long-suffering sigh, and Rory slides me an amused glance.

“Not used to waiting for people either? Not a skill you’ve needed to acquire?”

“I enjoy the skill I’ve acquired where people do as I say.”

“That’s not a skill.” Rory chuckles. “That’s a position.”