Page 114 of Own the Eights Gets Married
Brice shifted the vehicle into park and glanced over at them nervously. “I got you here in one piece, and your dress looks okay to me. Do you think that German grandma ninja lady is going to come after me?”
She couldn’t hold back a chuckle this time. “No, I think it’s safe to say you saved the day, Brice Casey.”
“You sure did. Thank you,” Jordan added as the passenger door flew open.
“Pumpkin! What are you doing in a pest control van?”
Georgie scanned the sidewalk in front of the gardens’ main entrance to find her mother, looking sorceress elegant in a flowing rose-colored gown. Howard stood beside her with Mr. Gilbert and Jordan’s dad close by. Maureen and the twins waved to her as the girls spun in circles in their matching flower girl dresses, while Irene, her husband, Becca, and Mr. Tuesday, adorned with a smart doggy bowtie, brought up the rear of the entourage with Barry, phone in hand, filming their unorthodox arrival.
“Is the whole crew here?” Jordan asked.
Georgie gazed at the group. “Yep, and Barry’s here livestreaming, and FYI on the dresses—my mother and bridesmaids are all in—”
“Rose-colored gowns,” Jordan replied. “Hans dropped that important piece of information while you were having your hair done, so I wouldn’t make the mistake of calling them pink.”
She smiled, taking it all in.
“Hans and Cornelia don’t miss much, do they?”
“They sure don’t,” he answered.
“Well, come on, pumpkin! I still need to check the harpist’s psychic energy before she begins to play,” her mother exclaimed.
Georgie caught Howard’s eye, and her stepfather tossed her a wink.
Jordan’s father offered her his hand and helped her from the van.
“You look beautiful, Georgie,” the man offered with tears in his eyes.
“You sure do,” Mr. Gilbert added, pressing a kiss to her cheek as theding-dingof a bike bell rang out.
“Georgiana Jensen?” called the young man, pedaling the Schwinn.
“That’s me!” she said, glancing around, but everyone looked as confused as she was—except Jordan, who sported a cocky grin.
“Delivery, here you go,” the kid replied, passing her a small box.
“Who would send me something?” she asked.
“It’s your bride’s gift. Open it,” Jordan answered, still wearing her garter over his eyes.
She lifted the lid and found a rose gold charm bracelet.
“What is it?” Becca asked.
Georgie lovingly touched the charms. “It’s us.”
One by one, Georgie ran her fingertips over the number eight, the number ten, a sweet little computer mouse, a tiny book, a miniature cookie, an adorable barbell, a Birkenstock sandal, and a dainty trowel.
Her heart felt as if it were close to bursting.
“When did you do this?”
“Hans helped me design it while you were still getting ready, and then he had a jeweler put it together. The reach of the Denver Wedding Frau has no limits,” he added.
“I love it, Jordan,” she said, then gasped. “But I didn’t get a gift for you.”
He gathered her into his arms. “Georgiana Jensen, in a matter of minutes, I’m going to take this damn garter off, and you’re going to give me the best gift I could ever receive.”
