“I’m Dahlia.”
“Emery.” My attention returned to her jewelry.
She was very talented. I saw at least five pairs of earrings I wanted.
And I wanted all the rings.
“You like your silver, huh?”
Said silver bangles jangled on my wrist as I tucked my hair behind my ear.
My jewelry had been my only rebellion against my grandmother. She believed in pearls and diamond-stud earrings. Simple elegance.
I believed you could never wear too much jewelry. And when I turned eighteen, I embraced my own style.
Grandma used to curse the sound of my bangles jangling as I walked around the house, but secretly I think she appreciated my stubborn refusal to give up this stamp of identity. It was the one thing that was all mine.
I nodded.
“I thought we’d lose her to your jewelry as soon as she got here,” Iris joked at my side.
“It’s beautiful.” I glanced shyly up at the gorgeous brunette. “You’re very talented.”
Dahlia beamed. “Hey, thanks.”
“I’ll take those.” I pointed to a pair of long silver earrings sculpted like a teardrop with an amethyst stone clutched between silver prongs. And then the same design, but with jade. “Those too. And those. And … those. And all of these.” I gestured to a row of beautifully hammered bangles that would look great as a set.
“Are you serious?” Dahlia asked.
“Yes.”
“But … but that’s like a thousand bucks’ worth of stuff.”
“Dahlia, why are you trying to talk the girl out of buying your jewelry?” Iris te
ased.
“Fine, fine. Thank you.” Dahlia held out her hand to me again and I shook it, even though I was sure my skin was the color of a lobster.
“I had a feeling Emery would make a great customer.” Bailey leaned against the table at my side as Dahlia gift wrapped all my selections. “You have a wonderful sense of style.”
“Thanks,” I muttered. I wasn’t very adept at accepting compliments either.
Frustration bubbled inside me at my inability to converse like a normal person. At my inability to feel comfortable in social situations.
I wanted to leave.
I wanted to take my new jewelry and leave so badly, it was a physical pain.
“Hey, Coop!”
I flinched at Bailey’s loud yell and kept my eyes trained on Dahlia as she worked.
Cooper Lawson made me nervous. Not as much as Jack did, but Jack made me nervous in a different way. Bizarrely, I actually liked the way Jack made me feel.
Cooper just made me want to hide behind my bookshelves.
He grimaced every time I blushed, which just made me blush harder out of sheer self-directed frustration.