Page 9 of Own the Eights Gets Married
They were way past shitshow at this point. The proposal he’d pictured in his head had turned into one hell of a waffle-house sized cluster.
“Hold on, everyone! The CityBeat subscriber Passion for Ponies commented that Jordan and Georgie aren’t officially engaged yet.”
Hector cocked his head to the side and frowned. “Well, what are you waiting for, Jordan? Are you going to make Passion for Ponies wait for a second longer?”
What was he waiting for?
A moment of sanity with his girl?
A waffle-free zone to propose?
A little less pressure from pony enthusiasts?
He turned to Georgie, and all the craziness melted away when he looked into her eyes. She smiled down at him, and all thoughts of ponies or waffles or baby goats—that he no longer feared—vanished. He glanced at the ring. It was perfect. Delicate and beautiful while also strong and enduring, he’d known this was the ring for Georgie even before Hector and Bobby had uttered a word about the sparkling gem.
He traced his thumb down her ring finger. “Georgiana Jensen, messy bun girl and the woman who owns my heart, will you marry me?”
“Everyone! Stop the waffle talk! Jordan’s proposing!” Barry called, waving for the group to quiet down.
“If I say yes, will it make me the Empress of Asshattery?” Georgie asked with a sly twist to her lips.
He met her teasing grin with one of his own. “We’d probably need to consult the Belgian Waffle Princess on matters of royal protocol to be sure, but I’d say there’s an excellent chance of that happening. And by the way, you’ve said asshat or some form of it at least three times on morning TV.”
“That’sWake—” the host began, but Jordan held up his hand, silencing theWake-Up Denverplug.
“You’ve dropped it a few times yourself, mister,” his hopefully soon-to-be fiancée parried back.
He brushed his thumb across her knuckles. “What do you say, Georgiana? Will you be mine forever?”
“Bobby, look at them,” Hector clucked through a veil of tears.
Georgie’s gaze traveled around the set.
“Yes or no, Georgiana? Denver and the entire world are watching,” the male host coaxed in a made-for-TV purr. A sugary sound that made Jordan want to pick up the guy and toss him over the giantWake-Up Denverjumbotron screen. But before he had time to go full CrossFit cretin on the man, Georgie cupped his face in her hand.
She stroked his cheek—something she’d done every day—but today, on the day of his proposal, it brought tears to his eyes. He was over six feet of pure muscle, but with the brush of her thumb, this wisp of a woman could bring him to his knees.
Her gaze grew glassy. “Yes, a thousand times, yes.”
He chuckled, savoring the warmth of her touch. “You had to throw a little Jane Austen in there, didn’t you?”
“What did you expect? You did just propose to a bookshop owner.”
She gave him a sweet shrug as he tried to slide the ring onto her finger.
And it was too…
Hector gasped. “It’s too big! It doesn’t fit?”
Bobby scratched his head. “I would have sworn Georgie was a size six.”
“It’s fine, guys. We can get it resized. I’ll wear it on my middle finger until we can get that done,” Georgie answered, offering up the larger digit.
“What does it mean if the ring doesn’t fit?” Hector questioned in a low whisper.
Jordan tried to hold it together as a wave of frustration washed over him.
Christ! First, the proposal from hell and now, the damn ring didn’t fit.
