Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 161434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 807(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 807(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
“How did you pull all this off in just a few weeks?”
“Delegated well. Check out the other side of the room,” she says, pointing.
I see another sign that reads Pit Stop, already piled high with our gifts.
“Abby helped a little.” Reese shrugs.
Her sister laughs. “You don’t walk away after planning a kid’s birthday party on fifty bucks learning nothing. It helped that I billed Nick for the charges. But I saved you guys a crap-ton of the money designing all the prints myself!”
We both thank her again and I kiss Reese’s head.
Just in time for the grub. Servers cart around heaping plates of burgers, fries, onion rings, and several other sides.
“Sorry if it’s not as fancy as you hoped, Nick. I asked my sister what kind of food she wanted, and she said concession food,” Abby says.
“I agreed with casual. You girls did the job,” I tell her.
“Have you ever thought about event marketing, Abby?” Ward asks. “Nick used to help manage that team, but he spends most of his time with Brandt Dreams and Fluff Rides.”
Reese hits me with a smile brighter than the sun when she hears her new company name.
“I’m about to start taking classes to be a wedding planner, but...event planning is close. I’d like it, I think.” Abby sighs. “But whatever I do, I think I have to be able to do it from home. That’s one thing I’ve learned to appreciate after everything that’s happened.”
“I could work out a freelance contract. I’m okay if you do the planning from home, but you’ll probably have to go to the events to make sure they’re running smoothly, at least for a while. You’re part of the family now. We’ll all pitch in to figure out something for Millie,” Ward tells her.
“Oh, wow, I...you’re offering me a job? Thank you!” she says.
“If you can pull off events like this in a matter of days, it saves us all a ton of grief,” my brother says.
I couldn’t be happier to see our joy rubbing off on the biggest dickwad in the world. But shit, do I love him.
“Just keep your schedule open, Abby. My wife’s high maintenance and we’ve got a baby on the way,” I say with a wink.
“High maintenance?” Reese glares at me. “Liar!”
I grin. “Yeah, but I love you.”
She leans over and drowns me in another kiss that transcends every smile and easy laugh in the room.
After dinner, the big moment arrives when Reese tosses her bouquet.
We all gather around outside, watching the flowers take flight. Abby catches it, looks down in disgust, and hurls it into the air again.
“Aw, why’d you do that? I wanted you to have it,” Reese says.
“Yeah, no. I’m not getting mixed up with a man for a while.”
Reese raises her dress some, so I can remove her garter, with pleasure. It’s got the familiar black-and-white checkerboard pattern.
Clasping my hand around the garter, I lean closer, ripping it down her leg with a wolfish grin.
“I could take you right now,” I whisper up at her when nobody else is paying attention. I throw the damn thing over my shoulder, not caring if it lands on the moon.
“Do you have to say that here?” She’s staring down at me, her cheeks cherry-red.
“Hell yes, I do. You’re the perfect woman and it’s our wedding day.” I stand, enveloping her in my arms, whispering. “Let the honeymoon begin, darling.”
33
Is This Real Life? (Reese)
At the airport, we’re hand in hand, each of us dragging a rolling suitcase busting at the seams.
“Do you have the boarding passes?” I ask.
“All we need is ID. We’re flying in style on a private jet, darling,” he says with a boyish grin.
“You’re spoiling me sick,” I squeak.
“I’m spoiling us. It’s our honeymoon and we need privacy.”
A delighted gasp spills out of me.
“Have I told you that I love you? I mean, aside from the other ninety-nine times today?”
He pulls me against the wall, brushing my lips with his. “Make it an even hundred and it’s still not half as much as I love you, woman.”
God, this man.
Most girls only dream of fairy tales. I’m living one.
And my immaculate prince leads me to the sleek plane gleaming under the stars, passing our luggage off to the waiting attendants.
Hands on my hips, he guides me over to a red velvet couch I flop down on, kicking my legs up.
I’m beyond punch-drunk.
The plane looks more like some kind of lavish hotel rather than something that flies.
“It’s loaded with snacks and drinks. Anything we’d want before we land in Key West. It’s a light crew since this isn’t a company event, so I’ll play flight attendant,” he explains.
“Sounds good.”
Nick leans over the couch and takes a blanket from a cabinet bolted to the side. He folds it around us.
I’m not cold, but I don’t protest.