Small Town Pretender by Brighton Walsh
“You can’t avoid it forever, you know,” Asher said as they pulled up in front of the antique store in Parkersville, shooting Nat a sidelong glance.
She unbuckled her seat belt and turned to face him, tuning out June’s near constant rendition of the baby shark song—the same rendition she’d been singing the entire car ride. Nat was ready to cut off her ears.
“I assure you I can avoid anything for any length of time, but I’m not quite sure what it is exactly you’re referrin’ to now.”
He shut off the engine and rested his arm on the center console, leaning closer to her. The move made his scent wash over her, and she had to bite back the urge to inhale deeply. Used to be, she’d avoid doing that so as not to be accosted by his and Nash’s teenage-boy stink. Now, though, it had more to do with how she’d react to his most assuredly non-teenage-boy scent—the one that seemed to cling to her, even hours after she’d gotten out of the bed they shared. Platonically, of course.
“I mean Havenbrook,” he said. “You haven’t been out once. You’ve even skipped weekly lunch dates with your sisters, momma, and gran. Aren’t you gettin’ a little claustrophobic by now? Havenbrook’s small enough, but it’s not as small as Aubrey’s house.”
“I’ve been out plenty.”
“Your parents’ or any of your sisters’ houses don’t count.”
“I’m tellin’ them you said that,” she said, stepping out of the car before he could respond. She shut the door on his laughter, and her lips twitched at the sound, though she tamped down her reaction. Truthfully, she’d been tamping down a hell of a lot of her reactions lately when it came to Asher.
She opened up June’s door and helped the little girl get unbuckled from her car seat and climb down. “C’mon, Junie B. Uncle Asher’s got your brother.”
“How come you call me that?” June asked, her head tilted to the side.
“What? Junie B?”
“Yeah. Is it for Junebug, like Uncle Asher calls me?”
Nat ruffled June’s hair. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you? Pickin’ up that bug starts with B. But no. It was my favorite book series when I was little. Junie B. Jones. Have you heard of it?”
June’s eyes lit up as she stared at Nat. “Oh yeah! Momma got me one of those. Can we read it?”
Nat glanced over at Asher, whose face had gone tight with sadness, and she swallowed down her own. She had absolutely no experience with kids, which meant she had even less experience with kids dealing with grief. But even with her complete lack thereof, she knew enough that she was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
June had taken her parents’ deaths surprisingly well. Though Nat assumed that was because the little girl didn’t quite understand the permanence of it all. Owen most certainly didn’t. But every day at each mention of Aubrey or Nathan, Nat waited for it to finally sink in for June. Truthfully, she had no idea how they’d manage that when the time came.
Nat cleared her throat and nodded, squeezing June’s hand. “Sure, we can. We’ll start tonight. As long as you don’t plan on pukin’ up your entire weight in cupcakes again.”
June grinned widely and bounced at Nat’s side, tugging on her arm as she did so. “Can we get some? Can we?”
Asher, carrying a sleepy Owen, strolled up to the two of them, shaking his head as he reached for the door and held it open for them to walk in ahead. “Junebug, you’re the only human I know who gets sick off a food and still wants it.” He leaned forward as Nat passed, his breath a whisper against her ear. “And you’re in the doghouse for even mentionin’ them.”
She locked down her muscles in an effort to keep her shiver under wraps, because she didn’t do things like shivering, thanks to her best friend whispering some nonsense in her ear. In fact, it was rare she did shivers, even while she was naked and her bed partner for the evening was working diligently to elicit them. But she wasn’t going to think about things like that now. Not while they were pretending to be a happy—and in love—couple. Not while they were ring shopping for their upcoming wedding. And not while—
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 sell her if 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. They would be 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 just die when 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.
“An engagement ring,” Asher said, his eyes still locked on Nat’s. “We’re gettin’ married.”
And for no good goddamn reason, her stomach flipped.
“Oh my! How wonderful!” 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, Nat reached for his hand and interlaced their fingers, giving it a gentle squeeze. Just to let him know she 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.” Nat reached for June on the little girl’s next trip around them and pulled her to a stop at her side.
“No? You have something specific in mind?”
“Not really. Just figure I’ll know it when I see it.” Nat squatted to be eye level with June. “Wanna help me look for a ring in all the pretty jewelry?”
“Can I get something too?” June asked, her eyes bright with excitement.
Nat smiled at her before glancing up toward Asher. To June, she said, “You’ll have to sweet-talk your uncle, but it’s probably not out of the realm of possibility.”
Asher just rolled his eyes and tugged on her hand still encased in his, yanking her upright. “Let’s see if Nat can find something first.”
“We get a lot of costume jewelry in here.” Claudette stepped behind the jewelry counter, keys jangling as she unlocked the case. “I don’t much guess you’d be interested in those. Oh! We did have…” She scanned the case, gasping when her eyes landed on something. “Ah, yes, here it is. Just came in last week from an estate.”
She pulled the ring from the velvet encasement and held it toward Nat. It wasn’t a typical engagement ring—no diamonds to be found anywhere. It was simple but not dainty. Stylish but not flashy.
“I believe it’s an aquamarine,” Claudette said.
Nat’s birthstone. The emerald cut pale-blue stone sat atop a silver band with filigree swirls framing the center piece and trailing down each side. She hadn’t thought much about what it’d feel like to find the perfect ring. Hadn’t thought about it at all, ever, actually. She didn’t know her breath would catch or that goose bumps would erupt over her skin. She didn’t know she’d have this bone-deep certainty that it was the one, yet she couldn’t deny all those things were true.
Before she could open her mouth to respond, to ask to try it on or to see what Asher thought, to check the price and make sure it wasn’t outrageous, Asher cleared his throat. She peeled her eyes away from the ring and to him, their eyes connecting immediately.
Without breaking her gaze, he said, “We’ll take it.”