Page 22 of Own the Eights Gets Married
Jordan
Jordan froze and looked around the lobby for that lady with the contract they’d just signed.
He needed to tear that fucker up right now.
Maybe he’d gotten it wrong.
“I don’t think I heard you correctly, Frau Lieblingsschatz. Did you say Georgie and I can’t sleep together until after we’re married?” he asked gently.
The woman narrowed her gaze. “It’s only a couple of weeks, Mr. Marks. Are you unable to abstain for even a short period of time?”
“No, we could do it, but…” he began.
“You are a fitness trainer, yes?” the wedding frau asked, cutting him off as she opened her leather-bound notebook.
“I am.”
“Do you believe people need to have strong bodies and strong minds?” she continued.
“I do.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And what about hard work? Are you afraid of it?”
Dammit! This wedding woman had ninja skills when it came to marrying mind control.
“Jordan and I are up for any task. It’s just that abstaining from sex seems a little strange in this modern day and age,” Georgie offered with her plastered-on beauty queen grin.
This was not good. She only switched into full pageant mode these days when she got a whiff of Aqua Net hairspray, usually off some old lady who meandered into her bookshop.
“Modern day and age,” the frau said under her breath with a coy smirk. She closed the notebook. “After you met, how long was it before you had your first kiss?”
“Well,” Georgie began, sharing a nervous look with him. “We met in the park, and then an hour or so later, we learned we would have to work together in the Battle of the Blogs competition.”
The wedding frau clucked her tongue. “That isn’t an answer to my question. How long, in days or months, was it before you kissed?”
“Um…two?” Georgie supplied.
Cornelia Lieblingsschatz frowned. “Days?”
Georgie cringed but miraculously was able to hold the pageant expression. “Hours.”
“You two became a couple two hours after meeting?” the frau asked, scribbling in her notebook.
Anyone else would have cracked under the questioning eye of this fearsome frau, but not his Georgie.
“No, I still pretty much hated his guts at that point,” she answered as if she were addressing a line of judges.
“But you kissed him?” the woman pressed, smirk in place.
“Yes.”
“Hmm,” the wedding frau hummed. “Let’s move on.”
He shared a relieved look with his fiancée as his hammering pulse slowed.
Yes, they’d had a unique start to their relationship. They were the eight and the ten who, together, became more than just a number. It was all over the internet.
He wrapped his arm around Georgie, ready to take on the world. “Go ahead, Frau Lieblingsschatz.”
