Own the Eights Gets Married - Krista Sandor Page 0,19

made a funny face when you saw it.”

“It’s like a whole different world,” he said as a guy swerved past them with a massive bin of rubber penises.

The frau waved off the dildo delivery dude. “Pay no attention. Those are very popular for bachelorette parties. Ours have super-charged batteries.”

“I bet they do,” Georgie answered wide-eyed.

The wedding frau pinned them with her gaze. “But that is not for you. You two are on the zero-fornication protocol.”

He watched as the bins of cocks disappeared. With this no sex rule, it was a damn shame he couldn’t detach his manhood and toss it into the bin to be locked away. After his dirty meditation in the limo, all he wanted to do was get Georgie naked.

The frau led them farther inside the cavernous space. “Today, we’ll pick colors, flowers, the design for the dress, the cake, and find your perfect wedding rings.”

“We can do all that here, in this place?” Georgie asked.

The wedding planner closed her eyes. “Do you feel it?”

“What?” Georgie asked.

“The magic,” the woman replied.

“Yeah, sure,” he and Georgie answered like two confused kids in calculus class.

Mrs. Lieblingsschatz walked them over to a large computer monitor and tapped the surface. A weather map donned the screen. “You’re having a fall wedding. Lucky for you, on your wedding day, it will be sunny with a high temperature of eighty-one degrees Fahrenheit. Twenty-seven Celsius. Unseasonably warm.”

“Wait a second. How do you know it’s going to be eighty-one degrees on the third Saturday in October?” he questioned.

The frau met his gaze. “My contacts at NASA, and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, and years of my statisticians crunching Farmers’ Almanac data to within an inch of its life,” the woman answered, tapping the screen. “With everything I know, Mother Nature herself asks me for the weather forecast.”

“That’s certainly a lot of information! What else do you know?” Georgie pressed.

The wedding frau’s smirk was back, and she walked past them. The click of her boots on the worn wooden floor echoed through the chamber as she began to speak.

“Your ceremony will take place outdoors in the Botanic Gardens at sunset, casting a golden glow and illuminating the vibrant reds, the deep shades of rose, and lush greens. You’ll have your first dance under a pavilion, strung with thousands of tiny sparkling white lights.” The woman walked up to Georgie and gently fingered a loose lock of his fiancée’s hair. “You’ll wear your hair up, Miss Jensen, with flowers from your bouquet threaded in.”

“Like a Georgian wedding,” Georgie whispered as if in a trance.

“Is this what you pictured?” the frau asked.

Georgie nodded, then turned to him. “What do you think?”

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’m good with anything that makes you smile like that.”

“Hmm, no opinion,” the wedding frau remarked, writing in her notebook.

Georgie’s expression fell, and he shook his head.

“It’s not no opinion. I just want Georgie to be happy.”

“But are you happy?” Georgie pressed, her gaze brimming with worry.

He glanced around the wedding wonderland warehouse. “Yes, it’s just that all this wedding hubbub isn’t really…” he trailed off.

Agitation edged out the worry in Georgie’s gaze. “It isn’t really what, Jordan?”

“Georgie, I…” he stammered.

It wasn’t like he didn’t care about the wedding. But questions like should they have an indoor ceremony versus an outdoor ceremony weren’t foremost on his mind. He didn’t care if they got married at a truck stop in Timbuktu as long as she was the one walking up the aisle.

He steadied himself. He needed to come up with the right thing to say. Her gaze grew more pointed as his mind turned to mush.

“Georgie, I…” he tried again, but instead of looking angry, she closed her eyes and inhaled.

“What is that?” she asked on a dreamy breath.

“That would be the cakes,” Frau Lieblingsschatz answered.

Georgie’s face lit up. “We get to do a cake tasting?”

If he were a comic book character, this would be the scene with phew written above his head in huge block letters as the hero dodged a bullet.

“Jordan, they’re baking cakes for us,” she exclaimed.

He’d never been so grateful for empty calories in all his life.

For the next hour, he received a crash course in Weddings 101. A lot of it seemed like a load of bullshit and old wives’ tales, but Georgie seemed to eat it up, and he quickly understood the old adage, happy wife, happy life.

“And now, Miss Jensen and I will part with you, Mr. Marks,” the frau said as one of