Nat screeched to a halt, Asher plowing into her back and setting a hand on her hip to steady himself.
“Whoa, sorry,” he murmured, then glanced down at her, one eyebrow raised. “What was that all about?”
“I don’t think we thought this through.” Nat gestured to the incredibly crowded and most definitely not childproof store.
The space was small and cramped, every square inch covered with…stuff,save for a tiny walkway. And even then, objects sometimes spilled over into it. As far as Nat could tell, there wasn’t a rhyme or reason as to how it was set up. It wasn’t separated by item or even era, just a haphazard sprawl that would, no doubt, be a chaotic four-year-old’s dream.
“Shit,” Asher said under his breath, clearly coming to the same conclusion she had. Namely, there was a whole lot of stuff to break in here. “I don’t know why you wanted to come here for a ring anyway. There’s an actual jewelry store right down the street. You wanna go there instead?”
No, Nat absolutely did not want to go to a traditional jewelry store. She had no plans to be a traditional bride. Even if this wedding were real, she still wouldn’t be one. So, she tightened her resolve, along with her hold on June’s hand, and marched them toward the jewelry case in the center of the crowded space.
“No touchin’, Junie B,” Nat said, glancing down at the little girl. “I’m serious. If you break something, I’ll probably have to sell your uncle Asher to pay for it.”
June’s eyes went wide, and Asher laughed, reaching out a hand and palming his niece’s head. “She’s just jokin’, Junebug. We’d sellherif anything like that happened.”
Without looking, Nat reached behind herself and swatted him, her hand connecting with the warm solidness of his stomach.
He grunted in surprise, then stepped up next to her, slid the arm that wasn’t holding Owen around her waist, and lowered his lips to her ear. “I don’t know why you’re hittin’ me when you’re the one who started it,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice.
“Well, aren’t y’all just the most adorable family I’ve ever seen!” A woman in her late fifties with clumps of eyelashes as fake as her nails—which looked like they could kill a man—stood behind a cashier counter adjacent to the jewelry case. She beamed an overly white smile at them, her bottle-blond hair curled in perfect waves.
“Oh, we’re not—” Nat’s words got stuck in her throat as Asher squeezed her hip, and she clamped her mouth shut, because…yeah. They were supposed to be this family. Theywouldbe this family, even if just for a little while until everything got sorted. It had been easy when they’d been locked in the four walls at home, but now that they were out in the world, she’d nearly forgotten she had to pretend to be a happily shackled woman.
Suffocation crept up her throat, but she tamped it down, beating it back into submission with the mantra she kept telling herself over and over again. This wasn’t real. Asher wasn’t going to be her actual husband. Their marriage was only a sham. They were just playing house.
Almost as if he could read her mind, could see the freak-out happening beneath her surface, he squeezed her hip twice and then spoke for them. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Hmm… You look so familiar,” she said, narrowing her eyes and tapping a finger against her chin as if that would help shake some recognition loose in her brain. “I’m Claudette Aikens. Have we met before?”
Asher shook his head. “’Fraid not.”
Nat nearly rolled her eyes. She’d been out with him enough that she was used to this—in the southeast portion of the US, anyway. And especially this close to Havenbrook—everyone within a hundred-mile radius felt like they had a claim to Asher…like being from the same area as him somehow made fame rub off on them. He may not have hit it big yet, but he was a well-known name in this corner of the country, having been on tour as the guitar player for Luke Bryan and then his viral video from The Bluebird.
Now, though, he didn’t look like mysterious Asher McCoy, country music’s newest rebel, dead set on breaking all the rules and having fun while he was at it. Instead, he stood with her tucked into his side as Owen slept, his head resting on Asher’s shoulder, all while June ran tight circles around their legs. It certainly was a far cry from late-night gigs and playing huge stadiums.
As she stared over at Asher, with his nephew safe and secure in his arms—not to mention her safe and secure nestled into his side—it felt like someone had popped a bottle of champagne in her stomach, her insides all bubbly and warm.
And she had no idea what to do with that feeling…especially in regard to her best friend.
Thankfully, Nat was a master avoider and could find any avoidance tactic within a five-mile radius. And right now, that meant throwing Asher under the bus just to give her mind something else to focus on.
“That’s Asher McCoy,” Nat said, tipping her head toward him. “Maybe you’ve heard of him—he’s kind of a big deal.”
“Nat,” he hissed under his breath.
She ignored him. “He toured with Luke Bryan last summer, and then his video of ‘Take Me Home’ kind of blew up.”
The older woman clapped her hands. “Yes, that’s it! My goodness, how excitin’ to have you here! My, my, I need—” She fluttered her hands in front of her as she glanced around before plucking a flower-topped pen from the pot filled with rocks, then pressed a button on the cash register so it spat out receipt paper. “Would you mind signin’ this for me? My daughter’ll justdiewhen she hears I met you.”
Asher’s cheeks pinked, and Nat bit back a smile—one that only grew when he pinched her side in retaliation. “Sure, of course.” He shifted Owen’s sleeping form to his other arm and grabbed the pen, scribbling his autograph on the paper.
“Thank you so much. What a treat!” Claudette held the signed paper out in front of her as if it were a buried treasure. “Well, now. What can I help y’all with?”
“We just wanna take a peek at your jewelry.” Nat gestured to the case they’d been heading for.
“Of course.” Claudette nodded and stepped around the counter, grabbing a set of keys as she went. “Anything in particular y’all’re lookin’ for? I might be able to point you in the right direction. I’m here most days, so I know the inventory.”
Nat glanced over at Asher, and their gazes locked, an unspoken acknowledgment transferring between them—this was the first time they’d be saying these words aloud to a stranger.
