Page 26 of Betsy
Blood rushed through my limbs, leaving me tingly and off-center. “I…”
I didn’t know what to say.
Where was a snarky quip when I needed one most?
10
Asher
Iwasn’t sure what had possessed me to walk into that bridal boutique. I’d seen Betsy through the glass window as I was walking down the sidewalk, and next thing I knew, the little bell above the door rang a greeting as the scent of some sort of fragrant flower wafted over me.
I couldn’t explain it. I wasn’t the kind of person who ducked his head when they saw someone they knew in public, pretending to have not noticed them to avoid small talk, but I also didn’t go out of my way to intercept the person either. Especially not by walking into a store catering exclusively to the opposite gender. I was about as out of place among all the white fluffy material and bridal mannequins as a tuba in a string quartet.
But I hadn’t been able to help myself. I’d seen her, laughing with some other women, the serious expression usually forced into place on her face erased. I’d wondered what Betsy would look like if she lost some of her rigidity and smiled. Not her cynical curve of the lips. Not even that satisfied professional smile that had taken me off guard during our first rehearsal with her, but a real, honest-to-goodness, Betsy-with-her-guard-down smile.
I hadn’t been prepared for its force. Seeing Betsy smile had the same effect as a meteor crashing into me, knocking me off course, sucking me into her gravitational pull, and locking me into her orbit. My feet had grown a will of their own and propelled me toward the wedding dress shop door.
“Can I help you with something, sir?” A young woman in a pantsuit approached, a polite expression on her face.
“No, thank you. I just—” Just what? Suddenly became a stalker in the last fifteen seconds? Had an aneurysm that cut off communication between my brain and lower limbs? Lost my grip on all common sense?
I had no way to explain my presence in this shop. Not to this employee and certainly not to Betsy if she turned around for whatever reason and spotted me here. The best plan would be to hightail it out of there before Betsy was any the wiser. I could pretend the whole thing never happened. I’d deal with whatever revelation I seemed to have had on the sidewalk later, in private. Although, I wasn’t sure what I could do about that either.
“You have such a gorgeous voice,” one of the women with Betsy was saying. She leaned forward in a dress of classic simplicity and elegance, her eyes searching while her tone pleaded. “I don’t know why you don’t let other people hear you sing. Is it stage fright?”
Stage fright. Why hadn’t I thought of that? If a fear of singing for an audience held Betsy back, maybe I could help her overcome her anxiety.
“I don’t want to make you do something if you really don’t want to, but it would mean so, so much to me if you could sing ‘Bless the Broken Road’ when Peter and I have our first dance as husband and wife. Please?”
I held my breath. I should go. So I wouldn’t be spotted, yes, but also because now I’d stepped my oversized feet across the line into eavesdropping territory. But my brain-limb connection hadn’t been repaired, and my feet refused to obey what common sense I had left. If anything, I strained forward, trying to hear Betsy’s response with about as much anticipation as a rockhead at his first Rolling Stones concert.
“I…” Betsy started and then stopped.
You what?!I wanted to scream. I took a step forward. My shoulder bumped something hard. Out of the corner of my eye, I registered a mannequin in a ball gown teetering and shot my hand out to steady her. She landed in my arms like a swooning miss out of an Austen novel.
Of course, all the racket may as well have been a spotlight directed straight at me.
“Asher?” Betsy said my name with incredulity.
I brought the plastic woman in my arms out of a dip fit for a ballroom and set her on her feet, awkwardly patting her shoulder. Why? Couldn’t say. Apparently today was filled with things that I did without any rhyme or reason.
“What are you doing here?” Incredulity gave way to suspicion.
Still hadn’t come up with a good answer for that question.
“Do you know him?” The same bride who’d asked Betsy to sing at her wedding posed this question as well.
“He’s the lead singer of the band I’m working with.”
I stepped forward confidently, not at all like I’d just been caught essentially spying on an employee. “Asher North. Nice to meet you all.” I held the gaze of each of Betsy’s friends. They responded with varying degrees of interest and caution.
Betsy cocked a hip. “In the market for a wedding dress? Or always a bridesmaid and never a bride, Asher? Hmm?” She quirked a saucy brow.
I grinned sheepishly and ran a hand along the back of my neck. “I, uh, saw you through the window and thought I’d say hi.”
She absorbed that but didn’t appear pleased. “Why?”
Another fantastic question. “Because that’s what friendly people do when they see someone they know.”
