He was seated beside Daisy who looked as fresh as her name implied: a glorious, long dress, matching heels and her hair swept into a sophisticated updo. She looked so lovely to Asher it made his teeth ache. How appropriate she seemed there. Of course, she did.
Asher did not fit in like Daisy. She’d dressed him, so at least, he looked the part. She’d gazed at him with clearly approving eyes, and her skin was glowing with obvious attraction. She’d offered her hand to him when he’d emerged from the bedroom. “Wow. Be still, my beating heart, and take me to bed immediately.”
He’d laughed and started to kiss her, being extra careful not to disturb her hair and makeup. Of course, he’d smeared her lipstick. He’d licked her lips and sucked most of it off. She’d giggled happily.
The appearance of Hunter’s bride, a stunning, six-foot beauty and former magazine model nearly made Asher roll his eyes. She looked like a Barbie doll. The dress was so ridiculous, it reminded him of a royal wedding. The train on the veil extended a good ten feet behind her. She certainly dressed like the princess Hunter called her. She was exactly what Hunter wanted. The man was smitten, sure, but in Asher’s mind, Hunter still didn’t know her well enough.
They met last winter when Hunter came home to visit. He’d announced it when he went out to check on Asher and the ranch.
“Hey, Farmboy! Where you at?” That was Hunter’s favorite nickname for him. Asher had appeared and shoved Hunter’s shoulder before spitting and just missing his fancy shoes.
“Wall Street asshole! How many old ladies did you swindle today?” Asher responded good-naturedly.
Always friends and polar opposites, they were more contrary than Asher and Daisy even. Although Daisy had no intention of living there on his ranch, she didn’t scorn his desire to do so. She was supportive, concerned, and often encouraged him. Hunter, on the other hand, was always disparaging and had wrinkled his nose as he took in Asher’s outfit. Crusty jeans, ripped and work-worn with… yeah, the strong odor of cattle. Asher’s shirt matched his jeans in wear and tear and his boots literally had shit on them.
“How do you think I got my new swag here?” Hunter replied with a grin as he waved to the fancy vehicle behind him.
“I can’t believe you drove that up here.”
Hunter flinched. “Neither can I. That road is abysmal. I’ll be washing the mud out of my butt crack for a week before getting my new baby professionally detailed.” Hunter’s baby was a foreign, low-riding, convertible sportscar that looked incongruously stupid being parked in front of the old ranch.
“But you came anyway?”
“Hell, I had to see what the valley’s most reclusive rancher is up to.”
Asher swept his hand and said, “It’s damn close to liveable now.”
Hunter sighed. “Fine. Show me around.”
Asher replied, “If you were coming here to see me, why didn’t you just wear jeans and a casual jacket with a decent pair of boots, you pretentious prick?” He’d grinned at Hunter.
Hunter answered with a wave of his hand to indicate Asher’s apparel, “I’d rather ruin my best suit than be seen like that.”
And that was the truth of it. Hunter was all city and glam; and he intended to be wealthy too. It was a mystery that they didn’t despise each other. But their strong childhood bond held tightly still. As they’d toured Asher’s house, they mocked each other constantly in good fun.
Eventually, Hunter got serious, and his tone sounded more genuine when he’d asked, “How are you and Daisy?”
“Great.”
“Still? Despite the distance?”
Asher leaned on a fence post. “Still and always. It’s been like that for us. We get along really well, and we trust each other. I expect when we live in the same area again, the trust we built from the beginning will be as solid as concrete. Unshakeable.”
Hunter shuddered. “I doubt I could have stood that for so long. Definitely not. You’re here and she’s in the city. How can you trust—”
“I trust her one hundred percent because she’s Daisy,” Asher simply replied.
Hunter nodded, slightly chagrinned at Asher’s sharp tone. “You’re right. I guess I’m just not as secure as you are.” He sucked in a breath. “Now that I’ve fallen in love, I get it. So, I can only wonder how you manage to live so far apart when you both feel like I do. I can’t get enough of her. I can’t wait to see her. I just—”
Asher slapped his shoulder. “Listen to you. Finally. In love, huh? Tell me, who is it? How did you meet?”
And that’s when Asher learned all about Francine Charlize Stanton. They’d met through her stepfather.
Hunter returned to Seattle and all of the subsequent texts to Asher were always about Francine. Hunter’s life and attention revolved around her entirely. When he asked her to marry him in April, Asher nearly drove out there to kick the idiot’s bare ass. Instead, he bit his tongue and told Daisy, “That lovesick fool has no idea who she even is.”
“No. It’s a rush-job, I agree. But maybe it will work out.”
“Too fast. Too fake. No way to know each other in so short a time.”
“Don’t ruin your friendship over her. Just tell him congrats.” Daisy rightly warned him. So, Asher simply congratulated Hunter on his wedding plans. However, he never stopped thinking the urban prick was naive, stupid and careless.
Today was the big event. Asher detested the foyer of the ridiculous hotel where he was watching Hunter throw his life away on a diva that he didn’t know. Her flashy looks were all Hunter saw and he was clearly infatuated with her, not in love. How could he love her when he didn’t even know whom he was marrying? Maybe she would learn to love him. Asher’s point was they did not know any tough times yet. Not at all. They only saw the bright, shiny, pretty versions of each other. Asher squirmed with discomfort as he listened to their bogus, insipid vows without any history or depth behind them. Squeezing Daisy’s hand, he leaned over and kissed the top of her head. She glanced up with a smile on her face and squeezed his hand back. She knew exactly why he did that, and what he was thinking. That was because of their shared history and strong bond, based on real feelings and emotions.
Suffering through the overdone, way-too-elaborate dinner, dessert, and all the other nuptial traditions, Asher ground his teeth and tried to be social. He did his best to play along with this ridiculous union. All it could be was a spectacle. A fancy, phony display and poor, smitten Hunter failed to realize that. He was playing the role of the hero, like Prince Charming, or the lead in a Hallmark Channel movie.
Something about Francine bothered Asher, so much he had to restrain a sneer. He leaned over during dinner and whispered to Daisy, “His bride’s a piece of shit.”
Startled, Daisy had a shocked look. “What makes you say that? You’re never judgmental or so mean.”
He shrugged as his gaze landed on Francine. “I don’t know. I just sense that she isn’t a good person. She’s a grifter and she’s using Hunter. Why? No idea why. Just can’t shake this feeling.”
She kissed his lips quickly. “Well, you’re not usually wrong so I believe you.”