Suffocation crept up my throat, but I tamped it down, beating it back into submission with the mantra I kept telling myself over and over again. This wasn’t real. Asher wasn’t going to be my actual husband. Our marriage was only a sham. We were just playing house.
Almost as if he could read my mind, could see the freak-out happening beneath my surface, he squeezed my hip twice and then spoke for us. “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.”
I nearly rolled my eyes. I’d been out with him enough that I 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 Wade Grant 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 me tucked into his side as Owen slept, his head resting on Asher’s shoulder, all while June ran tight circles around our legs. It certainly was a far cry from late-night gigs and playing huge stadiums.
As I stared over at him, with his nephew safe and secure in his arms—not to mention me safe and secure nestled into his side—it felt like someone had popped a bottle of champagne in my stomach, my insides all bubbly and warm.
And I had no idea what to do with that feeling…especially in regard to my best friend.
Thankfully, I was a master avoider and could find any avoidance tactic within a five-mile radius. And right now, that meant throwing him under the bus just to give my mind something else to focus on.
“That’s Asher McCoy,” I said, tipping my head toward him. “Maybe you’ve heard of him—he’s kind of a big deal.”
“Nat,” he hissed under his breath.
I ignored him. “He toured with Wade Grant 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 I bit back a smile—one that only grew when he pinched my 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.” I gestured to the case we’d been heading for.
“Of course.” She nodded and stepped around the counter, grabbing a set of keys as she went. “Anything in particulary’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.”
I glanced over at Asher, and our gazes locked, an unspoken acknowledgment transferring between us—this was the first time we’d be saying these words aloud to a stranger.
“An engagement ring,” he said, his eyes still locked on mine. “We’re gettin’ married.”
And for no good goddamn reason, my stomach flipped.
“Oh my! Howwonderful!” Claudette beamed and bent down to June. “Are you gonna be the flower girl at your momma and daddy’s wedding?”
June shook her head, barely sparing the woman a glance. “They’re not my momma and daddy.”
Claudette glanced up, her brows pinched. “They’re?—”
“I’m her uncle,” Asher corrected with a tight smile.
Without thinking, I reached for his hand and interlaced our fingers, giving it a gentle squeeze. Just to let him know I was here. That he wasn’t going through this alone.
“Of course,” Claudette said, her smile back in full force. “Well, I’m not sure if we’d have anything flashy enough for what y’all’re probably lookin’ for?—”
“Oh, we’re not lookin’ for anything like that.” I reached for June on her next trip around us and pulled her to a stop at my side.
“No? You have something specific in mind?”
“Not really. Just figure I’ll know it when I see it.” I squatted to be eye level with June. “Wanna help me look for a ring in all the pretty jewelry?”
