Page 32 of Own the Eights Gets Married
“Why not?” Georgie asked.
“They’re white gold, Miss Jensen, and Mr. Marks has a nickel allergy,” Hans replied.
Jordan met the man’s gaze. “You didn’t tell her?”
“Hans wasn’t with us for ring selection. It was only Miss Jensen and me,” the frau answered.
Georgie frowned. “I had no idea there was nickel in gold. And when did you find out you had a nickel allergy?”
“I’ve known about it since I was a kid. I hadn’t thought about in years. It’s not like I wear jewelry.”
Confusion and something akin to doubt flashed in her eyes.
First, it was their blood types, and now it was his allergy. These weren’t huge unknowns between them, but at this moment, with the look on Georgie’s face, he wanted to get the hell out of there.
Hans handed Georgie the titanium band. “Your fiancé isn’t allergic to this metal. It’s titanium.”
“It’s lovely. Is titanium common?” she asked.
“It’s a newer choice. But quite popular,” the frau answered.
Georgie slid the large titanium band on her ring finger then gasped. “What about my engagement ring? I haven’t seen it since this morning.”
More like since the wedding frau’s minion basically pickpocketed it off her finger.
“No need to worry. It’s right here,” Hans said, removing it from a velvet bag. “I’ll be the one resizing it.”
Hans handed her the antique engagement ring and slid it on with the titanium band.
“Old and new,” Hans said with a chuckle.
“I love it, Jordan. What do you think?” she asked.
He took her hand into his. Despite the rings being too big, he loved it, too.
It worked.
Georgie removed the rings and handed them to Hans.
“There we are,” the wedding frau said, flipping a page in her notebook. “And no need to worry. Your rings will be sized for you and ready by the time you return from bridal boot camp.”
“What are you talking about?” Georgie asked.
“Boot camp. It’s exactly what you need,” she answered.
At the sound of boot camp, he was ready to do a damn cartwheel. He may not know about rings or flowers or fondant, but as a CrossFit trainer, he knew boot camp. He loved it. And how different could a bridal boot camp be from one of his training sessions? They probably added a wedding spin to it. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. Finally, this was something he understood!
The wedding frau tore out a sheet of paper from her notebook and handed it to Georgie.
“That’s the address. My people will let them know you’re coming,” the frau instructed.
Georgie blinked with a puzzled expression. “When do we leave?”
What looked like one hell of a mischievous glint sparked in the wedding planner’s eyes.
“Tonight.”
