He could be broke and you still wouldn’t care, a niggling voice whispered in her ear. You’re just as lovesick over him as you were before.
She wasn’t, was she? But when he reached for her hand and smiled at her as he led her through to the next area, she suspected that she was only kidding herself.
And heck, if she was kidding herself about that, why not go the full-court press? She stifled a yawn behind her hand.
“Tired?” Asher noticed it instantly.
She nodded. “Thinking maybe I should stay overnight again, if you don’t mind. I can fly back tomorrow with you.”
The pleased look on his face made her tingle with happiness.
This was how things should have been before. Of course, there was no reason why she couldn’t enjoy things as they were now.
Did it mean she had to stick her head in the sand a little and ignore any misgivings? Maybe. Did she care?
At the moment? No.
***
One Week Later
Asher: You ready for some practice tonight?
Greer: Are we still pretending it’s practice?
Asher: I’m pretty sure I could “bone” up on my skills.
Greer: Stop, seriously.
Asher: Should I send you a picture to convince you of my all-consuming lust, sweetheart?
Greer hid her phone as Kiki entered the dining room, just in case Asher was going to carry through with his threat and send her naughty photos. “Morning, Kiki.”
Instead of her normally bright and effusive greeting, Kiki just smiled and sat down across from Greer in her regular seat. She was dressed in a plain gray T-shirt and jeans today. No bikini, and no sight of her trademark blue anywhere. Strange.
“You’re not sick, are you?” Greer asked. They didn’t have time for anyone to be sick. The wedding was in a week and each day grew busier than the last.
Kiki shook her head and pursed her lips, then peered at the door to make sure no one else was coming in. When she was satisfied, she looked over at Greer. “I just . . .” She bit her lip and leaned in. “I’m having some misgivings,” she whispered.
Uh-oh. Greer’s heart sank. Kiki was the most sensible and easygoing of the triplets. If she had cold feet, who knew what the other two were thinking? Lots of brides tended to panic before the wedding, so that wasn’t so unusual. Greer handled that all the time.
But this was a different kind of wedding, and Kiki only had a one-in-three chance of actually becoming the bride. She was right to have misgivings, because one girl would end up married to Greer’s father, and the other two would just be dragged through the mud. Knowing Stijn as she did, she doubted he’d give up his other two girlfriends just because one was now a wife. It wasn’t an ideal situation for any of the girls but she’d assumed that they’d thought things through.
Guess not. “What do you mean, misgivings?”
Kiki’s expression was troubled. She picked up a pen and a pad of paper and began to doodle on it slowly. “Um.” Doodle doodle. “It’s not that there’s a problem, really. The dresses are nice. I’m really happy with how things are turning out. It’s classy, just like you said it would be.” Her smile was polite. “I just . . . I’m worried.”
“Do you not want to marry Stijn?”
She thought for a moment and then shrugged. “It’s not that he’s a bad guy. I really like Stijn. And I like living here.” She gestured at the room, indicating the Dutchman castle. “It’s just that . . . I never really imagined it to be permanent, if that makes sense. And now there’s a chance for it to be permanent and, well.” Her lower lip trembled. “If I win, that means my sisters lose.”
Greer nodded sympathetically. “It’s hard, I know. The entire situation is . . . unique.”
“It’s awful,” Kiki said bluntly. “He’s pitting me and Bunni and Tiffi against each other and not telling us which one he’s going to marry. We’ve been tiptoeing on eggshells for the last month, worried about saying the wrong thing and killing our chances at the altar. It’s hell. Poor Bunni’s so stressed out she’s been doing yoga three times a day. And Tiffi keeps buying stuff to distract herself. She’s turning into a hoarder.”
“And you?” Greer asked, curious.
Kiki licked her lips and looked away. “I just . . . Tell me. Are you sleeping with Asher?”
The conversation change was startling. Greer blinked and then adjusted her glasses. “Of course not,” she lied. “We’re just working together on the wedding.”
“I won’t say anything,” Kiki said. “I just . . . I know something’s up. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I guess that’s one reason I’m freaking out. I wish Stijn looked at me like that. Or one of my sisters like that. Then I’d feel better about the whole thing.”
“How . . . how does Asher look at me?”
Kiki’s expression grew wistful. “Like you’re the best thing in the world and he’d do anything to have you.”
Oh. Greer’s stomach fluttered, and she felt her nipples tighten imperceptibly at the thought of Asher’s possessive glances. Others had noticed? She wasn’t sure how she felt about that . . . but it wasn’t making her unhappy.
And what did that say about her? Flustered, Greer pulled out her seating chart and tipped it towards Kiki. “There’s nothing going on, I promise. And as for your feelings, lots of brides get nervous before their wedding. You have a more unconventional wedding, so your nerves are going to be a little stronger than most.”
“You think so?” Oh, poor Kiki. She sounded so sad. But what could Greer do? Tell her not to marry Stijn? Not only would she be working against her father—the father she’d always desperately wanted to impress—but she’d be torpedoing her own wedding that she’d spent so much time organizing. And brides did have cold feet, and often changed their minds a dozen times before still showing up at the altar, all smiles. Most of the time, the panic was for nothing.
Most of the time.
“I know so,” Greer assured Kiki. “It’s all going to be fine.”
***
Gretchen: So like, we’re besties, right?
Greer: Of course!
Gretchen: Can I be your date to your dad’s wedding?
Greer: You . . . want to go to my dad’s wedding?
Gretchen: Hell yeah!
Gretchen: It’s going to be a TRAIN WRECK.
Gretchen: I shouldn’t have said that.
Gretchen: I’m sure it’s going to be a very nice wedding! But dude. I want front row seats for the bridal roulette.
Gretchen: Greer? Hello?
Gretchen: Oh come on. You know I’m just teasing you. We’re still friends, right? Love you? Kisses? Can a girl help it if she wants tickets to the craziest wedding of the century?
Greer: I’m not getting you tickets. There’s no tickets. It’s a wedding!
Gretchen: Damn.
***
Chelsea: Hey, so this is weird, but Gretchen wanted me to ask you something about the wedding.
Greer: Not you, too??
Chelsea: Not me what?
Greer: Oh, you mean Gretchen’s wedding? Sorry. I’m getting my weddings mixed up. What’s up?
Chelsea: She wanted to know if she could get tickets? And if it would be tacky to place a bet on which bride because it’s in Vegas?
Greer: Tell her she is dead to me.
Chelsea: :)
Her friends were jerks. Funny, but still jerks.
Actually, okay, they weren’t jerks. It wasn’t their fault she was totally stressing and losing her mind over this wedding. Greer peeked out the window in her room and frowned at the line of cars parked outside the gates. Already the paparazzi were showing up, and the wedding still wasn’t for two days yet. All afternoon, a helicopter had been flying overhead, and every time she left, she was trailed by someone following her, despe
rate to get details of the wedding.
She’d known it’d be a media frenzy, but she’d had no idea it’d be this crazy.
Her father’s wedding seemed to have captured the attention of the celebrity-loving tabloids. There wasn’t a day that went by that some new magazine didn’t have a new, lurid tidbit about the wedding, or “bridal confessions” or anything else to catch the public’s eye. Two of the triplets were eating up the attention. Kiki just seemed more tense as time went on. Her father? Her father was extremely pleased. He didn’t give two shits about the wedding itself, but the attention it was getting? He loved it, because it was good for business. Already he was planning a honeymoon issue of Dutchman magazine and some video sales. Of what, she had no clue—nor did she want to know.
And Greer?
Well, other than being utterly stressed by the pending wedding?
She was happier than she’d ever been. Being with Asher was just as she’d dreamed it. No, better, because she’d never imagined she could be so happy. When they weren’t together, they were constantly texting or sending silly notes to each other. When she had free time (and sometimes when she didn’t), he’d swing by the castle and pick her up so she could enjoy a nice quiet dinner somewhere. Most of the time it was back at his hotel room.
And they “practiced.” A lot. God, did they ever practice. They’d practiced so much that Greer’s head felt as if it were in a permanent fog of bliss. The sex was incredible. Granted, her standards had been pretty low when she’d agreed to the deal they’d made, but the reality kind of blew her mind. He insisted on making her come more than once each time he had her in his bed, and one night, he’d held his promise about licking her pussy for hours.
Yeah . . . that had been a really good night.
It was more than just sex, too. It was the way he touched her and held her. It was the way he talked to her about his day and asked for her advice on his business—as if she knew anything about outsourcing! But she liked that he asked her anyway. It meant that he valued her opinion.
Asher had proven to be sensible when it came to the wedding, too. Whenever the triplets thought up something new they wanted, he sensibly talked them into a much easier alternative—or out of the idea altogether. He was at every wedding meeting she conducted, and even though Bunni had done her best to flirt with him the entire time, he only had eyes for Greer.
So yeah, getting knocked up by a drunken man at a party? It might have been the best thing that had ever happened to Greer. She touched her stomach as she considered that, reviewing the endlessly changing placard of seating arrangements. Tiffi had showed up this morning with a laundry list of people she wanted out of the wedding and new people she wanted in and expected Greer to make it happen. She was doing her best, but it meant rearranging a lot of the seating. She couldn’t have the mayor of Las Vegas sitting next to the head of a pornography video company . . . could she? Or did it depend on if they brought wives? Most of the etiquette books didn’t give examples for that sort of thing, alas.
The baby . . .
Okay, so the baby was awesome, but it was also a real kink in the situation with Asher. Sometimes when she was lying in bed with him, she wondered why he was suddenly so interested in her. She worried it might be the baby. But if that was the case, why had he signed his rights away? The paperwork was done and filed with her lawyer.
The paperwork bothered her, too. It didn’t seem right to force Asher to give up his child. If he wanted to be in the baby’s life, did she have a right to prevent it? Did she even want to? If her baby had a chance of a loving father, how could she possibly say no after her cold, mostly forgotten upbringing?
It worried her. She wanted the best for her baby, and what if the best was two parents?
I swear I’m trying to think of you and not what I want, she told it silently. Just because I was mad at Asher, you shouldn’t be forced to be fatherless.
She wasn’t even mad anymore. Did that evening in the gardens still hurt her? Of course. But he’d sure made it clear that her pleasure in bed was his priority. She was willing to forgive. And he’d been so attentive and loving over the last few weeks.
It was almost like they were a real couple. She just really wasn’t sure what they were. Friends with benefits . . . and a baby on the way? What happened after the wedding? What then? She was afraid to ask.
“Such a serious look on your face,” called a familiar voice from the doorway.
She looked up and smiled at Asher. “Just planning some wedding stuff,” she lied. Her brain should have been fully in wedding-mode but she couldn’t stop thinking about him and the baby and how their puzzle pieces fit together. “Did you finish your to-do list?”
“Mostly.”
“Er, mostly? The wedding is in two days, Ash. What have you forgotten? Your suit? Is your suit not ready? Because—”
“The suit’s fine,” he told her, striding into the room. No one else was around, and so instead of sitting down at the large castle table, he came to her side and leaned against it, his leg inches from her hand. “You look tired.”
“I’m not tired. It’s just busy right now. Actually, I’m probably going to be busy up until they leave for their honeymoon.” She’d booked four tickets, just in case her father wanted to bring the trio with him. “That means there’s probably not much time for . . .”
“Playtime?” he supplied. He reached out and tugged a lock of hair free from where she’d tucked it behind her ear. “Is this you letting me down gently, sweetheart?”
“No! Not at all. I just . . . I need to focus for the next few days. That means I can’t stay at your place tonight.” Mostly because she tended to let him distract her away from any work she should have been doing and when she spent the night, she tended to sleep late. Real late. “I’m sorry. We need to focus. Everything has to go off without a hitch or I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Of course,” he murmured, rubbing the lock of her hair between his fingers.
He certainly knew how to be distracting. “What did you say you haven’t finished on your list yet?”
I’m just struggling with the whole best-man speech part.”
“Because my father’s not given to sentiment?” She could understand that. Stijn was a hard man to like at times. Filling a speech with his greater qualities might not be the easiest of tasks.
“Something like that.”
“Just keep it brief and clever and I’m sure it’ll be fine.” She stacked her charts. “You can always practice it on me.”
He chuckled, and she realized what she’d said too late. “Why, Greer, are you telling me that I need to practice my oral skills?” He leaned in and tugged her hair free of the clip she wore. He’d gotten really good at releasing her hair, and every time he did, it led to sex.
Her entire body flushed with arousal at the thought.
God, what was it about being around this man that made her seem like she was a horny teenager ready to have sex at the slightest suggestion? And why did she love it so much? She bit her lip and peeked up at him. “Now that you mention it . . .” Her finger went to his slacks and she idly traced a fingertip along the front pleat. “You have needed a lot of practice lately.”
“Woman,” he growled low in his throat. “Where’s your room?”
“I’ll show you,” Greer breathed. She clutched the charts to her chest to hide her hard nipples and got to her feet. “Follow me.”
“I’m all yours.”
She took his hand and led him down one of the back halls of the castle, towards the staff quarters. Luckily, they didn’t run into anyone, or Greer would have been embarrassed at being caught in a “booty call.” She got to her room and opened the door, then shoved him inside. She followed him in a second later and locked the door.
His body was stiff, anger on his face. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“Hmm?” She glanced around. Bed made. Computer on desk. Clothes in suitcase still neatly stored on suitcase rack.
“This is your fucking room?” Asher turned and glared at her. “Your father lives in a damn castle with three blonde nitwits and he keeps you with the staff in this hole?” He gestured at the small bedroom. “You don’t even have a full-sized bed. I’ve seen car seats bigger than that bed.”
She wasn’t going to argue over this. Flustered, Greer ran her hands through her hair, smoothing it. “I’m only here temporarily, and my original room was on the second floor with the rest of the girlfriends, but people kept wandering in when I was trying to sleep. My father’s guests are often drunk and I didn’t feel safe. I like it here. It’s cozy and out of the way.”
Asher just shook his head. “He’s fucking ignoring you. I’m starting to hate the man.”
“Well, save that for after the wedding, perhaps? Or it might make your best man speech awkward.” She moved toward him and tugged him toward her bed. “There’s still plenty of room here to practice, if you ask me.”
“I just don’t get your father,” he growled, even as he allowed her to pull him down onto the mattress. “You’re the best thing he has in his life and he’s throwing away your relationship.”
“Ash, we’ve never really had a relationship. Vader doesn’t know how to care for people. I accepted it long ago.” Well, mostly. The child inside her still yearned for birthday to-dos and a father that remembered she existed.
“He’s your father. It should mean something to him, damn it.” He leaned in and kissed her fiercely. “You matter. I don’t care what he thinks. You matter.”
His passionate words made her heart thump wildly. Of course it mattered. Asher had grown up in foster care and in his own words, had ‘escaped as fast as he could’. To him, parents were important because he’d never truly felt as if he’d had any. She’d had two messes and grown up being all she needed for herself. Maybe that was why she’d insisted she could do this on her own. But now? It felt wrong.