Page 13 of Wedlocked

Arsen nodded. “Just apologize.”

“Oh, for shit’s sake,” Ben muttered, rotating in the booth to face me. “If you want a gorgeous dress, then I’ll make sure you get one. But just so we’re clear, I don’t care what you wear to our wedding as long as you come. You could wear a garbage bag, not comb your hair, and have popcorn stuck in your teeth, and I’d still think you were the prettiest bride to ever exist. I’ll still love you for a lifetime.”

“Ben,” I whispered, my voice husky. Reaching up, I palmed his face, staring into the sincerity he held out on a silver platter.

“I don’t care about any of that stuff, final girl. I only care about making you mine.”

“I already am yours.”

“Nice save, bro,” Ryan murmured.

“Guess the wedding is back on,” Jamie mused.

“It was never off, asshole,” Ben flung across the table. Then his eyes sought mine. “Right?”

“Right.” I agreed.

And just like that,Ibecame the person who up and decided to get married in a week.

It was crazy, right? Overwhelming for sure. But it was also everything I always wanted.

We’re getting married!

4

Win

Bro,I wasn’t sure where Ryan found the listing for Snowdrift Ridge—the name of our humble abode for the next week—but first of all, this place wasn’t humble.

Jess wasn’t wrong when she called it a castle.

I saw why it had a name of its own. I lowkey thought it probably had its own zip code too.

I mean, sure, White Pine Summit was the nicest resort in the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia, but this place was more than I expected. And yeah, I saw the pics before we got there.

Snowdrift Ridge was a sprawling wood and glass house with oversized fireplaces, chandeliers, and windows that pretty much covered the entire back of the house. Every bedroom had an ensuite, the kitchen was massive, and the deck off the back of the home was large enough to fit probably a hundred people.

And the view… There was epic and then there was this.

Rolling mountains, trees capped with snow, and a sky that stretched far and wide. Off to the right, you could see the WhitePine Resort, which looked like a small village. Ski runs stretched down the mountain, and lifts ran along them.

Even though the massive windows afforded an unobstructed view, I still slid open one of the sliders and stepped out, breathing in deep the pine and snow-scented air. Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I blew out a breath, watching it puff out in a white cloud in front of my face.

It was a good day to ski.

Behind me, the door glided open, and I smiled, glancing over my shoulder at the white-haired angel coming toward me. He fit in with this place. Pale and alluring, his presence probably the only thing that could compete with the view.

“I got lost coming down from our room,” he muttered, glancing around. “Americans are so extra.”

Grinning, I tugged him in front of me so I could hug him from behind and bury my chilled nose into his neck, making him hiss.

“Min hund,” he complained, but he didn’t pull away.

“That’s why I love you so much, angel,” I said, nudging his ear with my lips. “Because you are extra beautiful.”

“Idiot,” he muttered, the accent I loved so much heavy around the insult.

My chest rumbled with amusement, and he spun, looping his arms around my neck and pushing up onto tiptoes. His pale cheeks were pink from the cold.

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