OTHER TITLES BY NATASHA ANDERS
The Unwanted Wife
A Husband’s Regret
His Unlikely Lover
A Ruthless Proposition
The Wingman
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright 2018 by Natasha Anders
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle
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Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781503901520
ISBN-10: 1503901521
Cover design by Eileen Carey
Dedicated to Nathan, who will never read this book because eww (his word, not mine). Sorry I threw soap in your eye, made you believe you were adopted, hit you when you were a kid, and beat you at every game ever invented. Thanks for always being ready to bird sit or dog sit at the drop of a hat and for always grudgingly doing all the handyman stuff in my house.
You’re the best brother ever!
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER ONE
“Thirty-two is not old,” Daffodil McGregor muttered under her breath while pasting a simpering smile on her face for the benefit of her elderly, “well-meaning” hag of an aunt. The one who had just told her that being cute and spunky lost its charm once you left your twenties behind. Horrible crone. If Daffodil were younger, she would slip some laxatives into the old girl’s tea and gleefully watch her desperately dodder her way to the toilet. Being a responsible adult could be so boring at times.
“Daff, I need your advice, please.” Her youngest sister, Daisy, wrapped an arm around her waist and turned her away from Aunt Ivy, who was still lecturing Daff about her waning charms. “Sorry, Auntie, I just need to borrow her for a few seconds.”
Daisy hurriedly dragged her away from Ivy, and Daff frowned at her shorter sister.
“What advice?”
“None.” Daisy grinned. “Auntie Ivy looked like she needed rescuing from the impending Daffsplosion.”
“She was pissing me off, harping on and on about how old I was getting. Why are they even here? Who invited them?”
“Daff, I can’t not have the aunties at my engagement party,” Daisy admonished, and Daff rolled her eyes.
“It’s just an engagement party, not a wedding or anything.” Daff scowled, and Daisy dimpled at her adorably.
“It’s still a big deal,” she said. Daff sighed and tucked one of Daisy’s errant curls behind her ear.
“I can’t believe my baby sister is getting married,” she said, and Daisy grinned.
“I know, right? And to such a stud.” Daff’s eyes drifted over to where Daisy’s frankly gorgeous fiancé, Mason, was earnestly conversing with his older brother, Spencer. She had to admit, Mason Carlisle did fantastic things for a three-piece suit. Her attention shifted to the man standing beside him. Spencer didn’t look as comfortable in a suit. In fact, he looked too big, too rough, and too damned barbaric to do the Alexander McQueen suit any justice. He kept tugging at the tie, which—added to his overly long hair and dark stubble—gave him a generally disheveled appearance.
Mason—always aware of where Daisy was in a room—glanced over and graced her with a very hot, very intimate smile. Daff rolled her eyes when her sister sighed and practically melted in pleasure. Seriously, these two were perpetually horny. It was downright embarrassing to be in their company at times.
Spencer also looked over, and his stormy dark-green eyes clashed with Daff’s for a second before she deliberately looked away. She couldn’t stand the man. She had once harbored a smidgen of affection for him, but that was before he hurt Daisy in a misguided attempt to get closer to Daff. She peered over at her flushed sister, who was still eye-fucking Mason, and sighed. Okay, so everything had worked out in the end and Daisy had forgiven and forgotten because the whole debacle had won her Mason. But Daff was made of sterner stuff and Spencer had pissed her off. She didn’t forgive as easily.
Still, Daff was the maid of honor and Spencer was the best man, so for the sake of harmony it was probably better to declare a truce. The last McGregor wedding hadn’t ended well—her middle sister, Lia, had thankfully called the whole thing off—so Daff wanted to be sure this one was without any drama. Establishing some kind of peace with Spencer would probably go a long way toward making things easier for Daisy.
Mason was coming over, looking like a lovestruck fool floating on a sea of pheromones. The guy was practically drooling, for God’s sake.
“Hey, angel. Miss me?” His voice was pitched low and clearly intended for the only person currently in his field of vision. Daff might as well not have existed.
“Always.” Daisy smiled. Jesus, they lived together, spent every spare moment in each other’s company, and had been dancing together less than five minutes ago. Daff couldn’t fathom this kind of yearning for anybody. Once, long ago when she had been little more than a naïve, foolish girl, it might have been something she aspired to. Now, hard-earned experience had taught her that those innocent dreams of romance and love were not for her, and she hoped never to actually feel anything remotely similar. How terrifying that would be. And yet . . . sometimes it physically hurt Daff to see them together. She was pleased for Daisy—her sister deserved all the happiness in the world and Mason made her ecstatic—but looking at them made Daff feel . . . lonely. The thought made her uncomfortable, and she just wanted to get away from them.
“Anyway, thanks for the rescue, Deedee,” she said. No response. “I’ll just be heading . . . over there somewhere.” No response. “To, you know, dance on the tables. Naked, probably. Haven’t decided yet.” No response. All righty, then.
She turned away, grabbing a glass of bubbly from one of the tables on the way. She looked around the crowded room. Her parents were hosting this party in their own home. It was early days yet, but Daisy had opted to do her entire wedding at home. The ceremony would be in the huge backyard, beneath the weeping willows out by the large duck pond. The farm was really an ideal setting for this wedding, and for veterinarian Daisy, who had always been happy to run around with the geese and ducks and cows, it was a perfect fit.
Daff circled the room restlessly, feeling out of sorts and a little bit moody, like a shark circling the shallows looking for a potential victim. She spotted her prey just a couple of meters away and made her way to his side. He was a big bastard, topping her five foot seven by at least seven inches. He was massively built with shoulders that could block out the sun; he was easily twice her size, but all muscle. She knew he kept fit, always out playing sports, swimming, cycling, and surfing. While Mason had a lean elegance to his gorgeous body, Spencer was all brute force.
“Stop fiddling with that tie,” she said when he tugged at the length of fabric again. “You’ve done enough damage.”
“What do you care?” he sneered, glaring at he
r from beneath that fall of black hair. He looked like a beast, hulking, menacing . . . His hair fell over his eyes, a wild, sleek mane. It was kind of thrilling how savage he seemed at times. Barely civilized. No wonder he always messed up flirting with her—he had all the finesse of a stampeding bull.
“Fine, if you want to continue looking like an absolute primitive, then by all means, fiddle away.” She continued to stand beside him, sipping her bubbly, while he wavered for a few seconds before his hand discreetly went up to touch the knot of his tie, obviously checking if it was as bad as she’d said. She glanced at the dance floor, where Daisy and Mason were now dancing together, still completely wrapped up in each other.
“So your brother finally popped the question,” she said.
“I think he started asking her about six months ago. She finally said yes,” Spencer corrected, and Daff grinned. The younger couple’s relationship had been anything but ordinary, so the news didn’t surprise her in the slightest.
“And you’re the best man?” She framed it as a question, despite already knowing the answer, and he nodded. “Well, since I’m the maid of honor, we’ll be partnered and expected to do stuff together. I just wanted to be sure you were okay with that.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“We haven’t really been on good terms.”
“I hadn’t noticed. You don’t exactly feature prominently in my life.” Ouch. That hurt.
“Right. Anyway. Bygones?”
“If you say so.” He shrugged, clearly not caring less. Feeling foolish, Daff walked away and wished she’d never approached him in the first place. She was annoyed with herself for allowing him to get the better of her. He wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. Years of repeatedly getting thumped on the head couldn’t be good for the brain, and Spencer typified the term dumb jock. She chose not to acknowledge the fact that he was a successful businessman with a highly lucrative sporting goods business. He had capitalized on the minor fame his short-lived rugby career had generated, and it had resulted in the right doors opening at the right time. He was still that big, sulky brute who had been two years ahead of her in high school. The bad boy with the seemingly delinquent tendencies. A causeless rebel who—she initially believed—had seen her as yet another trophy to be won.
She tossed back her drink and looked around for another tray of the stuff. Finding nothing close by, she put the glass on the closest surface and indulged in one—or several—of the delicious canapés instead.
“Why are you hiding back here?” her middle sister’s light voice asked from behind her, and Daff guiltily turned to face Lia—cheeks stuffed with tiny canapés.
“Hey.”
“Jeez, Daff, hungry?” Lia asked playfully, handing her a napkin. “You have cream cheese on your face.”
Daff took the napkin with a nod and swallowed down the delicious little treats before wiping her mouth. Lia’s finger indicated left, and Daff swiped the napkin across her cheek.
“Got it?” she asked and Lia nodded with a sweet smile. Her middle sister was always sweet and too damned nice for her own good. Just over a year ago, she’d nearly allowed herself to be railroaded into marriage with a guy who was entirely wrong for her, but she had thankfully come to her senses at the eleventh hour.
“So are you hiding?” Lia asked, and Daff shrugged.
“Auntie Ivy had a go at me. I’m old, blah blah blah. Better catch a man before the last of my looks fade, and so on and so forth.” Lia snorted and daintily picked out one of the canapés for herself.
“Aunt Mattie was helpfully informing me that I shouldn’t sulk over Clayton forever. Got to get myself back on the market ASAP. Before my ovaries wither and I die a bitter, childless old maid. Or something to that effect.” She smiled, inviting Daff to share the joke, but her eyes were shadowed as ghosts—barely dead and buried—surfaced to haunt her.
“They’re harmless, silly old ladies who are stuck in the dark ages. Independent women are foreign concepts to them.”
“And yet none of them ever married,” Lia said and glumly contemplated the canapé in her hand before taking a delicate nibble.
“Maybe they want to save us from the same terrible fate?” Daff suggested with a grin before sobering. “Don’t let them get to you, Lia.”
“Maybe it’s not entirely progressive of me,” Lia confessed, keeping her eyes glued to the canapé, “but I want a husband and a family. I want everything I thought I would get with Clayton.”
“Years of verbal put-downs, a man who flirted with—and possibly fucked—everything in a skirt, who made our baby sister feel both sexually harassed and physically lacking?” Daff asked skeptically, the latter referring to Daisy’s condemning revelations about Clayton on the eve of Lia and Clayton’s doomed wedding. “Because that’s all you would have gotten from that ass.”
“I know.” Lia’s voice was a mix of exasperation and pain. “I know that, okay. And I meant I wanted the fantasy of the perfect marriage, with the perfect children and the perfect life.”
“Sounds perfectly boring.” Daff shrugged.
“To you, maybe. But it sounds like bliss to me.” Daff made a noncommittal sound, not sure how to respond to that. While Lia’s dream life was not one that particularly appealed to her, Daff envied Lia her certainty. Her sister knew what she wanted, and Daff still had no clue.
She managed an exclusive clothing boutique in the center of their small tourist town. Business was sluggish in winter and crazy busy over summer. Pretty much like all the other businesses in town. It was dead boring at the moment, with a few loyal patrons who popped in more for a chat than anything else. Daff was the only employee during winter, and the sheer boredom nearly drove her insane. The owner had a few other boutiques set up around the country and rarely visited Riversend, content to let Daff run the place as she saw fit as long as they were turning a profit, no matter how small.
It was a dead-end job with very few prospects and not the least bit challenging, but it was all Daff was currently qualified to do. She had fallen into the management thing, getting the promotion simply because she’d worked there longer than any other employee. A high school temp job had turned into her only work experience, and she was too damned scared to try anything else. She’d started there when she was sixteen, and before she knew it another sixteen years had passed and here she was. Same job, same life, same mistakes over and over again. It was literally all she knew, and she was terrified that it was all she would ever know.
Spencer tugged at his tie again—he swore to God the thing was getting tighter with every passing second. He knew a frown was settling on his face and that his heavy, dark brows, overly long hair, and day-old stubble probably made him look terrifying, but he was well past caring. He hated events like these, but his brother was getting hitched and he was determined to be a good sport and do the whole big brother thing. He was the only family Mason had, and while he knew he wasn’t ideal, he would damned well do his brother proud, even if it killed him.
His eyes searched for the younger man; Mason was laughing—a deep belly laugh—and hauling Daisy into his arms for a kiss.
Little Daisy McGregor. She made Mason ridiculously happy. It was the damnedest thing; his brother was hot for the most overlooked, underappreciated woman in town. Not only hot for her but head over heels in love with her. And Spencer had to admit, since getting to know her, he could understand why Mason felt the way he did.
Daisy was a sweetheart. Funny, smart, and cuter than anybody had ever given her credit for. Just showed how superficial people could be. Nobody had ever considered her remotely pretty, with her weight issues, frizzy hair, and huge glasses, until Mason had come along. Now every eye was drawn to her. There was something about her, and Mason had seen it and snatched her up before anyone else could even appreciate it.
Spencer scanned the rest of the room, his eyes unconsciously seeking the one person who intrigued and frustrated him in equal measures. Daffodil McGregor was ch
atting with her other sister, Lia. The two women were strikingly similar, nearly equal in height, the same dark-brown hair, clear gray eyes—a trait that they shared with Daisy—and willowy bodies. But while Lia looked soft and delicate, Daff had a harder edge to her. A nervous energy that made her seem impatient and restless. It hadn’t been there when she was younger. She had been a carefree, independent, irreverent girl, and Spencer had been drawn to her like a moth to a flame. He always felt hopelessly out of her league, of course, but that hadn’t stopped him from not-so-secretly pining for her in high school.
A fledgling flirt, she had managed to keep him hopeful with the occasional smile, greeting, or slow, seductive sweep of those long, dark lashes of hers. And she had always given him just enough attention to make him think he had a chance. Which often resulted in him making a complete fool of himself.
What a pathetic, lovesick idiot he had been, sending her all those heartfelt notes and flowers and truly awful poems. He winced at the recollection now. She had had him wrapped around her pretty, spiteful little finger.
He had grown out of it, of course, or so he’d thought, until last year when—fresh out of a failed relationship—he had tried and been shot down again. Only this time both Mason and Daisy had been casualties of his stupidity. Luckily his mistake had eventually yielded positive results for the other couple, but Daff had irrationally accused him of hurting her sister, when—as far as Spencer was concerned—she had been just as much to blame for the entire debacle.
Spencer dragged his eyes away from her and surveyed the rest of the room. A shitload of beautiful people wearing beautiful clothes and dripping in expensive jewelry. Spencer didn’t belong here—he should be at home eating pizza, drinking beers, and watching TV. Mason fit into this world; he knew how to talk to these people, but Spencer felt completely exposed, like an impostor pretending to be more than he was. He didn’t know what to say or do. Literally the only person he felt comfortable with in this room was his brother, and Mason was wholly preoccupied with Daisy. Spencer tried not to feel a sting of betrayal and hurt by that. Mason was getting married; this was how it was going to be from now on, how it was supposed to be. But rationalizing didn’t make him feel any less excluded from his brother’s changing life. It was just that after Mason had returned home following twelve years abroad, Spencer had believed they’d have more time together. Instead, Mason had spent a year traveling around the country and had been back in Riversend for just a short while before meeting Daisy, falling in love, and setting up house with her.
The Best Man Page 1