Page 112 of Own the Eights Gets Married
“Brice, can you drive us to Denver?” Jordan asked.
“Sure, but you’ve both got to ride in front. My equipment takes up the back,” he answered, pulling the cap back onto his head.
“Thank you! We’ll ride anywhere,” Georgie answered.
Never in her life did she think she’d be so happy to see Brice Casey.
The Lieblingsschatz wedding duo exited the RV and joined them on the road.
“We’ve got a car coming, but the driver says he’s fifteen minutes away,” Hans said.
Georgie breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s all right! We can all ride in Brice’s van.”
“Sorry, Virginia, no can do. Like I said, the back of the van is full. I can only fit two,” Brice replied.
The wedding frau hurried to the van’s passenger side door and gestured for them to get in. “You and Jordan need to go. My people are already at the venue. Everything will run like clockwork, and Hans and I will arrive as soon as we can.”
Georgie took Jordan’s hand and led him to the van.
“Thank you for everything, Mrs. Lieblingsschatz,” she said, growing emotional.
The wedding frau’s features softened. “You’re wearing my hairpin, Georgiana. I’m Cornelia to you now.”
Georgie reached out and squeezed the woman’s hand. “Thank you, Cornelia.”
The frau’s gaze grew glassy, but before a tear could be shed, she cleared her throat.
“You, pest control guy!”
Brice straightened up like a soldier. “Yes, ma’am!”
“You need to drive quickly, but you also need to drive safely. Can I trust you with this task?”
“Aye-aye, captain,” Brice answered, saluting the frau.
“I don’t want to see one wrinkle on that dress! Do you understand?” she threatened.
He saluted again. “No wrinkles! Sir, yes, sir!”
Brice opened the passenger side door for them and guided the blindfolded groom onto the seat. “You’re going to have to sit on Jordan’s lap, Virginia.”
She settled herself on her fiancé’s lap, and Jordan’s body vibrated with suppressed laughter. At this point, she didn’t care if Brice called her Virginia, Georgia, Tennessee, or Madam Michigan. He just needed to get them to the gardens.
She adjusted herself on Jordan’s lap and clumsily buckled them in
Jordan wrapped his arms around her. “This is it, isn’t it?” he whispered into her ear.
“Is what?” she whispered back.
“Exactly how you pictured your wedding day,” he said with a smirk.
“Isn’t this what every girl dreams of?” she teased.
“Not Cammie,” Brice said, popping the gearshift into drive.
“Did you guys break up?” she asked.
“It was the Cheetos that got us,” Brice replied, shaking his head.
