Page 9 of Soaring and Saucy

“I would be interested.”

“Then let’s grab at the first real companionship I’ve felt in a long while and go to your hotel room.”

“Let’s get married,” she countered almost in a dare, her voice tinged with sadness because she knew there was no way someone like him would ever do it.

This man wasn’t the marrying type, and she knew it now. He might have said all the things she needed to hear, but she was also deeply pragmatic despite the dreamer within her heart and soul. No, he would always be sleeping around, finding a woman in every port, or…

“Fine,” he replied huskily, leaning closer to her as his breath mingled with hers. She could smell the coffee and alcohol on him, combined with a faint aroma of something else that made her want to curl her fingers into his shoulders, holding on tightly. “I can deal with you bringing me up to your level and straight out of the sewers. Let’s get married.”

Huh?

“Wait… what?” she exclaimed. Maybe she misunderstood him – or he misunderstood her?

Instead of commenting or speaking over him, she got very quiet. Almost like she was hiding from one of the dinosaurs from the movie Jurassic Park. Her breathing was labored; she held herself tightly, her face and neck froze in position, almost waiting for the predator to sniff her out and take a bite.

“Are you serious? Is this a joke?”

“I’ll marry you, and then we’re leaving here – together. Got it?”

The dinosaur was rounding the corner and sniffing the air, and she was mentally flailing like a muppet.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” he said huskily. “Trust me, my innocent little librarian – it’s going to be very obvious to anyone with eyes when I stand up to walk out of here what I intend to do behind closed doors with my new bride. Are you sure you want to marry me? I’m kind of a jerk and a real loser, but I promise that I’m a heckuva lover. I just don’t want you to think that I didn’t warn you.”

Stephanie looked at him, searching his eyes, and realized he wasn’t kidding. He would really marry her in order to get to sleep with her – and she was really tempted to do that very thing either way.

“Where are we going to find someone to marry us at this hour?” she asked hoarsely and saw his knowing smile as he looked over his shoulder.

“Hey, Pasteur!” Lance hollered bluntly, and a sailor who was holding two glass beer steins, one in each hand, looked over to them in surprise. The man blinked several times – and then waved a stein, wobbling slightly, before taking a big sip to keep it from sloshing. “Hey – are you still licensed, and it’s current?”

“As a pastor? Yeah. Why?”

“I’m getting married – right now.”

And you could have heard a pin drop in the bar. Every head swiveled to the two of them in shock, and Stephanie almost wished she could crawl under the table at their confused, surprised, and stunned faces – only to hear all the sailors explode in excitement as a rousing cheer went up.

“Heck yeah!”

“That’s my boy!”

“Trophy is getting hitched?!”

“Drink up, boy-o! We’re celebrating!”

“Wait,” Stephanie blurted out in confusion. “He’s a pastor? He’s completely trashed and drunker than a skunk. Is this even legal?”

“Pasteur, are you drunk?”

“I’m drinking – yes. Are you asking if I am inebriated?”

“Yeah, I am,” Lance replied, chuckling as he winked at Stephanie. “The man is a stickler for details. So, Pasteur, we need to know if you are inebriated?”

“Not in the slightest. I’m of French-Canadian descent. We do nothing but drink and smoke in the wintertime because there’s nothing else to do during the heavy snows.”

“How’s he Canadian and a U.S. sailor?”

“I asked the same thing a few years ago. The dude holds dual citizenship. His parents have green cards and live in Louisiana not too far from where I grew up. They relocated when he was fifteen or sixteen, I think. The man abhors snow with a passion.”

“Let me get this straight,” she whispered, her mind spinning. “Your friend is conveniently a sailor, who is French, who is named Pasteur… but is a pastor?”

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