Page 111 of Own the Eights Gets Married
This was getting crazy. If anyone was about to look like a lunatic, it was a woman in full wedding attire, flagging down cars in the middle of nowhere.
“Close your eyes. I’m coming over,” she said as an idea popped into her head.
Georgie whipped open the curtain and feasted her eyes on her handsome fiancé.
“Wow, you look amazing!”
“Not too bad, right?” he answered, eyes closed.
“Here, I’ve got something that will prevent you from seeing me, even if you accidentally open your eyes.”
“What is it?” he asked with a furrowed brow.
She slid her dress up, removed the garter, then pulled it over Jordan’s eyes.
“There! I’m a MacGyver bride! That should keep you from seeing me.”
“What if the driver of the van is some nut?” he asked.
“Then, I’ll tell you, and you can slingshot my garter at him. Come on,” she said, taking him by the hand.
The van rumbled toward them, and she positioned herself right in its path. Waving wildly, she squinted, trying to read the lettering on the vehicle’s windshield, then froze.
It couldn’t be!
She narrowed her gaze, double-checking what she’d read.
“You are never going to believe this, Jordan!”
“What is it?” he questioned, looking side to side—for what reason, she didn’t know.
All the man could see was electric blue fabric and lace.
The van slowed, and the driver craned his head out of the window.
“Virginia?”
Georgie’s jaw dropped.
“Is that who I think it is?” Jordan asked, disbelief coating his words.
Georgie blinked once, then twice, and lo and behold, sitting in the driver’s seat of a Casey Pest Control van was the one and only, Brice Hannibal Casey.
“What are you doing out here?” Brice asked, getting out of the van.
She gestured to her dress. “We’re trying to get to our wedding.”
Brice sucked in a tight, cringeworthy breath. “Knotty Pines is closed. You can’t get married there. Plus, I was taking care of a little pest problem, and that ballroom is Dead Mouse City at the moment. Wait,” he said, glancing down the road that led to Buck and Syd’s place. “Are you getting married at the wilderness boot camp? Depending on how many guests you have, you’re going to be digging a lot of holes.”
Georgie gave the guy a placating grin. “No, we need to get to the Denver Botanic Gardens.”
Brice pushed up his cap and scratched his head. “What are you going to do there?”
God, bless him! This man was not the sharpest tool in the shed.
“We’re supposed to get married there. That’s why I’m in a wedding dress and Jordan’s in a tux.”
“Hey, man, looking good!” Brice said, unfazed, as if it were commonplace for him to run into people, sauntering around in bridal gear.
