Page 108 of Own the Eights Gets Married
“Psychic energy?” Jordan questioned.
She cupped Jordan’s cheek in her hand. “It’s a long story, but we pretty much owe Mr. and Mrs. Lieblingsschatz for the rest of our lives.”
Jordan held her gaze. “It looks like we’re the real deal, messy bun girl.”
“You’re going to bereally lateif we don’t get things moving,” the wedding frau said, then clapped her hands.
The curtains parted, and a team of people stood at the ready.
“These are the best of the best. We’ve got stylists, seamstresses, aestheticians, manicurists, and makeup artists,” Mrs. Lieblingsschatz supplied.
“It’s showtime,” Hans said with a glint in his eyes, coming to his feet.
The wedding frau gestured for them to follow her into the mobile salon, but Jordan shook his head.
“Hold on! Georgie never answered me,” he said, taking her hands into his.
She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“After the race—after I proposed, again. You never got to answer.”
She stared up at him. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“I want to hear you say it,” he replied, his gaze growing dark.
This man. This handsome, part-time asshat and full-time love of her life.
“Georgiana,” he chided, the four syllables sounding good enough to eat.
Her trifecta fanned themselves as she pressed up to her tiptoes.
“You know my answer. Yes! A thousand times, yes!” she whispered against his lips, again, stealing the line from Lizzy Bennet’s sister.
He dropped her hands and pulled her into his embrace. Their lips met, and all she wanted to do was melt into his touch.
“Let’s never go two weeks without kissing again,” she gasped as he threaded his hand into her hair.
“Let’s not go two hours,” he growled as their connection grew more heated by the second.
“Two minutes,” she countered, needing more of him, all of him until the “Here Comes the Bride” horn blasted through the RV’s cab.
They pulled apart and found everyone smiling, except the wedding frau, who had her hand poised on the computer screen.
“Do I have to press this again? We have a wedding to prepare for! After thousands of nuptials, I’ve never had a wedding delayed. Not once! And it’s not happening today!”
“I better let you go,” Jordan said, twisting a strand of her hair between his fingers.
“You probably should,” she answered.
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Promise me one thing.”
“Anything,” she answered.
He held her face in his hands, a sweet gesture he’d done more times than he could count. But the next time he did it, he’d be her husband.
He caressed her cheek with his thumb. “Don’t let them make your hair too perfect. You know how much I love a messy bun.”
