Page 31 of Own the Eights Gets Married
The man’s gaze grew skeptical. “You looked ready to scarf down the box.”
He had him there. But all was not lost.
“How about this,” he proposed to the rightful owner of the Twinkies. “We do a quick strength workout, and then we each have one.”
The guy scoffed. “Right here?”
“Hell yes, right here! There’s never a bad time to get stronger,” he answered, pumped at the prospect of slipping into trainer mode.
“Sure! Why not! I’m on a break,” the dildo guy answered with an excited clap of his hands.
Jordan held the man’s gaze going into beast mode. “Twenty burpees, twenty power squats, then twenty push-ups. Got it?”
“Got it!” the dildo man answered, hopping from foot to foot like a boxer ready to hit the ring.
Jordan rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “In three, two, one! Let’s go!”
He jumped, then hit the floor, knocking out his first burpee as his Twinkie owning trainee mirrored his moves. This felt good! He’d been a ball of nerves and anxiety, running on adrenaline for the past few hours. His limbs rejoiced with each push-up, each exertion. He could lose himself to the workout and harness the endorphin rush.
“What are you doing?” Georgie ask from behind.
“A micro workout with the dildo guy,” he answered, lowering into push-up position when he remembered where he was and froze.
“I better get going,” the man answered, hopping to his feet as he snagged the box of Twinkies and bolted through the back door.
Shit. He looked like a total nut job, and he wasn’t even going to get a Twinkie.
He turned slowly to find Georgie, the wedding frau, and Hans staring at him.
“It’s never a bad time to work in a little fitness,” he offered, coming to his feet and clapping the dust from his hands.
“We need to have a discussion,” the frau said as Hans spread a handkerchief-sized velvet strip onto the table in the room.
“Did everything go okay with the dress selection?” he asked as all those workout endorphins surging through his veins evaporated.
Georgie’s expression softened. “I found exactly the style I want. I think you’re going to love it, too.”
“Then, what’s the issue?” he asked.
The frau sat, and he and Georgie joined her as she unfolded the velvet fabric to reveal four rings.
“That’s the ring I thought you’d like. It’s made of pavé diamonds,” he said, feeling like a damned ring expert, then shared a look with Hans, who replied with an approving nod.
Georgie chewed her lip. “It’s just…”
“Just what? You don’t like it?” he asked.
“It looks like something my mother would choose,” she answered with a weak smile.
His heart sank. She was right.
He stared at the sparkling band. “I guess I can see that.”
“I was thinking of going more simply with matching bands,” she said and touched two silver bands—the choices she must have made with the wedding frau.
“I like the idea of matching bands. I didn’t even realize it was an option.” He reached for the rings Georgie chose, but Hans slid the bands away.
“No, no, those won’t work,” the old man said with a shake of his head.
