Page 17 of Married in Misty Mountain

Hurley’s thick eyebrows draw together. “Yeah. It’s not like you have a lot of options.”

I scoff. “Gee, thanks.”

“That’s not what I meant. Oh wait, here.”

Hurley reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a small box. He opens it, and inside are two rings. “We can get them resized, but I figure it’s good enough for the ceremony.”

He’s being so thoughtful, and he looks and smells so good, so it breaks my heart that I’m going to say what I’m about to say.

“There’s something I need to tell you before we do this,” I say.

“Better hurry,” he replies, cutting his eyes toward the anxious clerk.

I take a deep breath. “Do you remember the nickname you gave me in school?”

I can feel the clerk’s eyes darting back and forth between me and Hurley.

“Uh, yeah. Do you really want to hash this out right now?”

“I want to hear you say it.”

He looks confused but also senses that he’s in trouble. “You mean the giraffe on roller skates?”

“Yes, that.”

He blinks at me. “You didn’t like that, did you.”

It’s never dawned on him before? “I hated it. Everyone called me that because of you. Even the teacher picked up on it, and it stuck, even after you left.”

I wait for Hurley to correct me again that he was removed and didn’t leave voluntarily.

He takes my hand in his. “Shenna, I’m really, really sorry for hurting your feelings with that stupid nickname. If I could go back in time and kick my fourteen-year-old ass, I would. And if I had a time machine, I’d also go back and kidnap you and take you with me. I hated leaving, but I hated leaving all my friends behind more. Especially the girls. I’ve always felt the most guilty about that, that I didn’t take anyone with me.”

“Um…” the clerk stammers. I can feel her impatience.

My heels come off the floor. I need to get closer, to really look into those eyes. “You really would have kidnapped me?”

“Yes. Yes, I would.”

I wait for the sarcastic comment, but it never comes. I believe what he’s saying is true.

“That means a lot to hear you say that.”

He exhales. “Are we good?”

“I’m sorry, we now have five minutes until…” the clerk begins but is interrupted when the office door behind him bursts open, and a large man in a black robe shouts bombastically. “Are we doing this wedding? Because my day has been overrun with idiots, and I need something nice to happen today!”

“Yes, your honor,” I say, then turn back to Hurley, who’s fighting back laughter. “We’re good.”

The ceremony is over quickly and without much pomp or circumstance. It’s not the most romantic of weddings.

Except for the moment I catch Hurley letting his guard down, just before the kiss. He looks like a groom who’s ready to nail me through the wall. My breath catches.

Before I can decide how I feel about those next-level bedroom eyes, Hurley delivers a very real kiss. Soft, slow, and surprisingly sensual, with the slightest brush of tongue. He really did that before the judge and God and everyone.

The kiss knocks the wind out of me.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that kiss had genuine feelings behind it.

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