Page 67 of Sex, Lies, and Margarita Mixes

He leans down and presses a quick kiss to my lips before saying, “Very.”

I smirk. “Damn right.”

He kisses the side of my head and slaps my ass. “You’ve got this, babe.”

It’s our turn on stage and the emcee reads from the card I wrote myself. “Next up is the woman behind the most talked-about wedding event company in Texas… Roxy West, co-owner of Bold Hearts Events.”

Chase squeezes my hand. “Go, baby, go.”

Ignoring my nerves, I stride onto the stage like I own it. “Hey, y’all.” I wave to the crowd. “This is a bridal expo, so let’s talk weddings. They’re messy. Emotional. Expensive. And totally worth it. Kind of like therapy with cake samples.”

Laughter ripples through the audience.

I pace slowly. “I’ve planned a couple hundred weddings. Some have been perfect. Some… well, some involved a flaming dessert cart, a rogue chicken, and a groomsman passed out in a fountain.”

More laughter.

“But here’s the truth. You don’t need perfection. You need magic. You need someone who can control the chaos. Someone who will hold your hair while you cry over chair covers. Someone who can talk you out of a spiral when you realize you’re about to become someone’s wife—for real. Someone who will play tug of war with a peacock over a tablecloth—don’t ask—and still make sure the cake’s cut on time.”

A few women cheer. A mom in the third row dabs her eyes. Melody fist pumps from the back of the audience. “And if your marriage is half as good as my makeup sex, you’re doing just fine.”

Applause erupts. Someone yells, “Yes, queen.”

I grin. “And speaking of my husband… y’all wanna meet him?”

A collective “Yes!” echoes.

I wave Chase onto the stage. He appears wearing a tux jacket, his tailored pants… and absolutely no shirt underneath.

When the hell did he change? And where is his damn shirt?

The crowd loses it. Women scream. A bridesmaid throws a napkin like a bouquet. Someone yells, “I volunteer as tribute!”

Simmer down. He’s mine.

I grab the mic. “Ladies, calm down. This one is mine.”

Chase smirks and kisses my cheek. “Forever, babe.” He whispers in my ear, “Losing my shirt was a good choice, huh?”

I roll my eyes but grin at him. “Damn right.”

He takes the mic from me. “Hi, I’m Chase. I cook. I lift heavy things. And I love the absolute hell out of this woman. Best event planner in Texas. Come see us at booth thirty-four.”

The screams intensify.

Stepping closer to my man, I murmur, “You’re gonna need freaking security to leave and I might have to shank a bitch.”

He chuckles and leans down, his lips brushing my ear. “No need to bring out the blades, unless it’s to cut the cake.”

I mutter, “You’re going to get me arrested. I need a margarita, hot stuff.”

He chuckles. “I’ll get you two.”

As we exit the stage, he bends me over his arm and kisses me senseless. I’m quite sure we probably violate some bridal show code of conduct. The crowd goes absolutely wild.

Mine, bitches.

But do come book us for your wedding!

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