There Goes the Bride. Crystal Green
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She backed away—even if she could’ve used another breath of his spicy tobacco-laden scent—and adjusted her tiara.
With effort, she turned away, sighing, angling toward the partygoers, knowing she’d have to explain herself to everyone. “You’re all very kind, helping me like this.”
Behind her, Daisy felt Rick recede, probably melting into the shadows once again.
Aside from Rick, she didn’t really know these people. A couple of them had gone to the same high school, but she really hadn’t made many friends back then. She’d been working in pageants since the age of four and hadn’t concentrated on her studies as much as answers to “How would you bring about world peace?” and “If you had a million dollars, how would you spend it?”
But she did know two of these people: Rachel and Matthew Shane, Peter Tarkin’s horse-farm business partners. She’d met with them on occasion, when she was masquerading as the perfect hostess during Peter’s dinners.
She sent a tentative smile their way, and they responded in turn. Phew. At least these people weren’t angry about this wedding-day stunt she’d pulled.
She gathered her composure. “I guess I’m a runaway bride.”
Ashlyn Reno broke into an appreciative grin, while everyone else plopped into the nearest chair. She asked, “Wasn’t this supposed to be the wedding of the century?”
Daisy heard Rick’s chuckle, and she darted an irritated glance over her shoulder at him. He was giving her one of those appreciative high-school glances, and she couldn’t help the flutter of attraction that flew over her heart.
Ridiculous, she thought. The last time Rick Shane saw you, you were thirty pounds leaner. He can’t possibly think you’re anything but an overweight bride stuffed into a satin casing.
When she intensified her stare, he merely held up his hands, warding off her rancor.
She faced the others again. “I can’t marry him. I don’t know what else to say.”
Rick’s voice floated from the corner. “Maybe you could give us a reason?”
Everyone else’s faces reflected his curiosity. And why shouldn’t they?
She said, “I haven’t even told my own sister why I’m not marrying Peter.”
Meg Cassidy, the one who’d baked her wedding cake, took the children outside as the other women nodded in sympathy, encouraging Daisy to continue.
“Well, to make a long story short, my sister, Coral, gave up everything to keep us together as a family after my parents died. She was so young when she started raising me, and we struggled financially for a long time. I was a teenager when Peter befriended Coral. He loaned her a lot of money, especially when she got it into her head that I could be Miss America and we couldn’t find adequate sponsors. It was expensive, but Peter helped us out.”
Here, Daisy could feel her blush intensifying, her tears returning to well up in her throat, choking her. She couldn’t tell them about failing as a beauty queen.
Couldn’t tell them about gaining so much weight that she would’ve been a laughingstock if she’d set a foot onstage. She’d lost the pounds, but never regained the confidence. Then she’d put on more padding, then shed it. Up and down, a roller coaster of diets.
Rachel Shane stepped forward. “Tarkin can’t force you to marry him, Daisy. The man treats you like a trophy.”
Rachel’s blunt statement robbed Daisy of breath, of dignity, especially knowing that Rick had heard it. She didn’t want to look at him, to see the loser image in the reflection of his dark eyes.
Daisy rested her gaze on the tiled floor. “It’s complicated. I have a duty to my sister. She gave up a lot for me, and Peter wants a wife more than our money, I suppose.”
No, she knew it was true; she just didn’t want to admit too much in front of these strangers. Peter enjoyed the prestige of owning a former Miss Spencer County. He liked that she knew how to behave in front of guests, liked her ability to charm his company. She was a valuable business asset to an ambitious man. On more than one occasion, he’d referred to her as “a piece of art.” In spite of the imagery, she wasn’t sure if it was a compliment to be compared to a lifeless painting decorating his walls.
Rachel came behind the counter to place an arm around Daisy’s shoulders. She met her gaze. “I believe you. However, Tarkin’s not going to be happy about his intended wife leaving him at the altar.”
“He’s earned it with his infidelity.” She took a deep breath, then exhaled. “But I’m afraid of what he’ll do if we don’t get married.”
Rick’s boots thumped as he stepped forward. His low voice brushed down her back. “What do you mean by that?”
A lump formed in her throat. She couldn’t believe she’d been reduced to asking for help from people she barely knew. “He threatened me when I tried to call this whole thing off. Said I’d regret it if I did. And…” This was mortifying. “…I didn’t think it would ever come to this, but he tried to hurt me before the wedding.”
The moment slammed back to her. Peering in the church dressing room’s mirror. Crying. Tugging the tiara from her head in an explosive second of rebellion. Feeling Peter’s hand around her neck before she’d ruined her perfect hairdo.
Knowing that he’d been watching the entire time, lingering in the back of the room.
Daisy shivered, then stared at the floor again.
She peeked up when she heard the men rise to their feet. Sheriff Reno stepped forward. “He won’t touch you, Ms. Cox. Believe me.”
Daisy heard Rick take a step or two toward her as well.
The petite woman in the ripped sweatshirt—it might have been Rick’s sister—spoke up. “He can’t get away with this. Daisy, what can we do for you?”
Relief welled over her. Coral would never believe that Peter had threatened Daisy; her sister thought the man was close to a saint for saving them with the loan. And she truly believed that Peter loved Daisy, not her status.
“I haven’t actually planned this through,” she said.
What could she do? Going back to Coral right now was out of the question. Daisy had no other relatives to turn to; that’s the reason Coral had cared for her when their parents had died.
Wait. Maybe there was something she could do. A couple of years ago, when she’d visited St. Louis, a man named Harry Redd had offered her a high-class hostessing job at his prestigious corporate headquarters. She’d had bigger accomplishments in mind, maybe attending college to become more than a beauty queen, for instance. Her dreams had never materialized though, and she’d gained too much weight to even think of approaching Mr. Redd again. But if she could get in touch with him, promise to get in shape, secure a new life in a new city and send money to Coral to pay off Peter, Daisy might be able to live with herself.
She perked up. She could also contact a past-pageant friend who lived in the city, maybe even live with her until she could make her own way. Yes. This could certainly work.
“I want to go to St. Louis,” she said.
She heard Rick’s disbelieving chuckle. “St. Louis,” he said.
Rachel asked, “Why there?”
Before Daisy could answer, the sheriff’s wife popped out of her seat. “I have an idea!”
“Oh, no, Ashlyn,” said her husband.
But she wasn’t listening. “Rick’s our resident pilot. He can fly you there, and fast.”
Any optimism Daisy felt at this news was quickly squelched by the near growl from behind her.
“I don’t think so,” Rick said, causing Daisy to finally turn around to face him.