Page 41 of Own the Eights Gets Married
Jordan
“It looks like we lost the internet,” Georgie said, holding up her cell phone and waving it around to try to catch a signal like a Wi-Fi wrangler, but he wasn’t holding his breath. They hadn’t passed a gas station or much of anything for miles, and he needed to help his fiancée take it down a notch.
“We are in the middle of nowhere, babe, and I don’t think there’s anything left for you to check. You’ve been working for the entire drive.”
Georgie continued to wave the phone around, and he let out a weary sigh.
This may have been one of the craziest and longest days of his life.
And it still wasn’t over.
After squaring things away at the gym and the bookstore, he and Georgie had rushed home, threw the essentials into a bag, and hit the road. He’d received an email from the wedding frau’s assistant, letting them know what to bring. There were a few cryptic lines of text, such as don’t forget to pack dryer lint and a sturdy trowel, which had to have been a typo, but he wasn’t too worried.
He knew boot camp. He loved boot camp.
The runs. The obstacle courses. The workouts.
Push-ups, pull-ups, and squats! Oh my! He was more than up for the challenge, and he could help Georgie get there, too.
They’d started working out together. She’d shaved eight seconds off her mile run. Not a hell of a lot, but when they’d started, she’d run a twenty-minute mile. A nineteen-minute and fifty-two-second-mile at least got her into the teens.
And as far as it being a bridal boot camp, that probably meant the program would entail couples’ stuff like outdoor hikes and practicing how not to trip while walking down the aisle. Plus, he was with Georgie. The love of his life. If any two people could get through a challenge, it was the two of them.
They’d crushed Battle of the Blogs.
They were becoming household names.
As much as he hated the termCityBeat Sweethearts, he loved that a platform with hundreds of millions of people read what they had to say each day.
They could do this.
He did have a feeling the wedding frau may be keeping tabs on them. Her people had set this all up. But, again, it was boot camp, and he was a certified CrossFit trainer.
This was going to be cake. But not the kind with empty calories. This would be healthy cake, like the gluten-free recipe they’d shared on the blog last week, which had been fucking delicious, especially since he ate his test slice off Georgie’s naked body.
Georgie’s naked body.
And, hello, no fornication erection.
He shifted in the driver’s seat, then glanced over at his fiancée. Thanks to all her frantic wiggling around, shuffling papers, and reaching into the back seat to pull her laptop out of her bag to attend to a zillion different projects, her skirt had slid up her legs.
A sight to see.
Toned and lean, he loved drawing his fingers up her calves, past her thighs, then spreading her out on the kitchen table like the naughtiest dessert.
He’d take that over cake any day.
They hadn’t gotten to finish their no-fornication session in the office thanks to Epic Teen One and Epic Teen Two knocking on the door. And speaking of epic, he needed to get himself under control if he didn’t want to show up to bridal boot camp sporting one epic boner.
“Okay, Jordan, I finished as much as I could before we lost the internet connection. And I texted with Becca and Irene. They say Mr. Tuesday is doing fine.”
“That’s good,” he replied, trying not to think of her thighs.
She fished her mile-long to-do list from a stack of papers and tapped each scribbled item.
“I double-checked the scheduled blog posts for the next couple of days and made sure my Own the Eights book club recommendations were up to date, and I texted the director of the rec center where the Shakespeare Shuffle Competition is taking place. He let me know we have plenty of retired schoolteachers signed up to judge the recitations, and he says everything is good to go with the city regarding road closures for the race portion. But I still think we should double-check with the sponsors and the people making the ribbons for the winners, and—”
“Georgie, we’re good, and we’ll only be gone for a few days,” he said, cutting her off before her brain exploded and fire blasted from her ears, or smoke came billowing out of her nostrils.
