Page 10 of Soaring and Saucy

“Yes,” he chuckled, grinning. “The man is a rock – and a twerp.”

“I can’t believe this.”

“Believe it,” Lance smiled, winking at her from nearby. “You threw down the gauntlet, and I’ve scooped it up.”

He finished speaking just as the bartender set down two more drinks before them. She didn’t know what they were this time – and didn’t care. This dreamy, gorgeous guy wanted her and was willing to do things on her terms?

Stephanie picked up the glass and looked at Lance, who did the same.

“To marriage?”

“To marriage.”

Both downed their glass a moment later.

Lance stood up, wobbling slightly, and held out his hand to her. She took it, completely unsure that her knees would hold her, and the room was spinning. Maybe she shouldn’t have drunk that last whatever-it-was or any of the espresso martinis; but as she looked up at Lance, he was there, holding her gaze, pulling her forward out of the corner, and she felt safe in his eyes.

She felt hands patting her on the back, heard all the congratulations surrounding them, and heard Pasteur’s words as he spoke, binding them.

“Do you, Trophy, take the new Mrs. Trophy for your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, for richer and poorer, in sickness and in health, for so long as you both shall live?” Pasteur was saying and nodded at her. “What’s your name and address, dumplin’?”

“Stephanie Michelle Wood,” she whispered. “What’s that for?”

“I take my blessings seriously – and being able to unite two people is a big deal to me. When I get back to my bunk, I’ll fill out the license and mail it to you.”

“Oh.”

“Yup. I don’t fool around,” he beamed. “I think the Lord would be really upset if I didn’t take this seriously.”

“I imagine,” she whispered numbly, looking at the blur of people surrounding her and worrying if this was what destiny or fate looked like. Just a weird pairing of two people who were promising to be faithful to each other.

“Trophy, you got anything you want to say in your vows?” Pasteur asked bluntly, drawing her out of her reverie.

“Nope. I do this freely, without hesitation, and I’m gonna make sure my wife enjoys this and doesn’t regret it in the morning.” A roar of laughter and ribald comments went up around them, making Stephanie a little nervous. Why was she moving forward with this?

“Do you, Stephanie Michelle Wood, A.K.A Mrs. Trophy, do you take ma’ boy to be your husband? He’s a great guy that can run his mouth with the best of them, but deep down, he’s a winner – even if he’s a loser on the outside.”

“Thanks, Pasteur,” Lance grimaced. “’Preciate the vote of confidence.”

“Hey, I think you should do this. This leaves all the ladies for the rest of us single guys,” the aviator joked openly, and she saw Lance hesitate right before he nodded, looking at her.

“Changing your mind, my little Librarian?” Lance said gently, holding her hands in his. “If you are going to back out, now is the time to do it.”

“I’m not – I mean, I do.”

“You sure?”

“I am, I do,” she stressed, embarrassed that he might have misunderstood her or ruined things. “I really do do and want to do…” and felt her face heat up as several around them laughed at her words – except Lance. His eyes were warm and tender, his gaze steady, as he smiled softly at her.

“I want to do, too,” he whispered and she felt tears sting her eyes, unable to look away.

“I want to do, too.”

“We are – and we’ll do.”

“Are you sure?”

“Are you?”

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