Page 30 of Own the Eights Gets Married
He’d wear this ring for the rest of his life.
“I think this is it,” he said, unable to look away.
“Very good! May I have the ring back, or would you like to test drive it a bit longer,” Hans asked.
“Here you go,” he said, sliding the titanium off his finger.
He glanced around. Thanks to choosing the first two rings he’d laid his eyes on, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He slid his hands into his pockets. “Should I wait here for Georgie?”
“No, no,” Hans answered, returning the tray into the case. “Frau Lieblingsschatz likes to have the couples go through this process individually. You can wait in the room right through that door,” he finished, then gestured with his chin toward the far side of the room.
Right. The wedding frau’s ring test.
He thanked Hans for his help, then entered the waiting room, and took a seat on the couch. He ran his hands down the scruff of his jaw.
Jesus, what a day they’d had, and it was barely lunch!
His stomach grumbled—a reminder that, except for a few bites of cake during the tasting, they hadn’t had one thing to eat at their fancy champagne engagement breakfast. He thought of the carved meat station, and his stomach responded with an all-out rumble.
What he wouldn’t give to have a tube of vegan cookie dough right about now! Despite teasing Georgie about her favorite treat, he couldn’t deny the stuff was delicious. He was about to resign himself to flipping through a basket of magazines to kill some time when he caught a glimpse of a box of Twinkies on a bookshelf.
Not something he’d recommend in his More Than Just a Number fitness and nutrition blog posts, but desperate times called for desperate measures—and being trapped at a top-secret wedding warehouse surely fit the bill. He reached for the box and found three left.
“Hey!” someone called.
Jordan looked up to see the dildo delivery guy.
“Where’d you come from?” he asked.
“Back door,” the man answered, glancing over his shoulder.
“Oh,” Jordan replied. What the hell was he supposed to say?
The men stared at each other as if they were auditioning for a Wild West gunslinger role.
“Did you get those Twinkies off the shelf?” the dildo guy asked.
Jordan glanced at the box. “Yeah.”
“Dude, those are my Twinkies.”
“Can I have one?” he asked as his stomach doubled the plea by emitting a crazy growl.
The man’s expression grew pinched. “I was going to eat them for lunch.”
Jordan held up the box. “You were going to have three Twinkies for lunch?”
The guy shrugged.
Jordan squared his jaw and went into trainer mode. “I can’t let you do that, man. With all that sugar, you’ll be hungry in an hour. You need to be smart with what you eat.”
“Dude, I’m trying,” the man said, then stilled and gave him the once-over. “Wait, you’re that guy. The CityBeat CrossFit guy!”
“That’s right! My fiancée and I run the More Than Just a Number blog now.”
“I know it,” the dildo dude replied.
Jordan clucked his tongue. “Then, you should know you should not be eating Twinkies for lunch.”
