Woke Up Wed (Bombshell Brides) by Cassie Mint

Author:Cassie Mint [Mint, Cassie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Cherry Publishing
Published: 2022-04-20T16:00:00+00:00

Seven

Effie

Lucky Bet. Last night, I married my gorgeous, unattainable, grouchy boss in a Vegas chapel called Lucky Bet.

Wow. My sandals scrape against the sidewalk as I trail alongside him now, my legs slowing the closer we get. The wedding baseball cap is jammed on my hair, my sunglasses tucked away in Guy’s pocket, and my blue cotton dress clings to my thighs as we walk.

Crap. I don’t know if I can go in there.

“Show me.” Guy traces a maddening finger up and down my arm. His voice is soft and coaxing, so delicious as it cuts through the hum of traffic, like the asshole knows exactly what kind of effect he has on me.

Goosebumps rise up on my bare arms, never mind the desert heat. Can he see them? Can he see my nipples poking through my dress?

“Effie. Come on, show me.”

Ugh. Fine.

I hand over my tattoo design with a smirk. Guy blinks down at the paper, drawing to a halt.

“Employee of the month,” he reads in disbelief. I grin at the flowing letters, wrapped in drunken, wobbly vines, and thank god. I need this distraction.

“Do you like it?”

Guy splutters. “I can’t believe you nearly got this inked on your body. It’s permanent, Effie!”

I pluck the scrap of paper from his grip. “Hey, you never know. I still might.”

My boss gapes at me, but I’m only half joking. I fan myself with the design as we start walking again, slower than before, and at this rate, the sun will set before we reach the chapel.

The first stars are coming out now, winking in the dusky pink sky, and all I can think is: the sooner we get there, the sooner this is over. One way or another, that chapel is the end of our quest. And after that, we’re back to boss and assistant. Back to ‘Mr Coltrane’ and official warnings for being late and to pretending none of this ever happened.

My lips still tingle from his kiss. He didn’t like it, though, did he?

“Fuck.” Guy rubs the back of his neck. His dark blond hair is ruffled, sticking up from the heat. His white shirt stretches over his broad shoulders, almost too bright to look at, and he’s not so ashen anymore. There’s a healthy glow on his cheeks.

My famously impatient boss doesn’t seem to mind our glacial pace, two tortoises ambling along to discover their fate. “What a mess. That would have been harder to undo than the wedding.”

Gee, I sure wish he’d stop talking about annulments and divorcing me. I know it’s inevitable, but he doesn’t need to rub it in.

“We might not have made it legal.” I take refuge in my helpful-assistant mode. “Apparently you can go through the ceremony and everything for fun but if you don’t get the license first, it’s not real.”

Ask me how I know. Since this morning, the search history on my phone is jammed full of quickie wedding trivia.

Guy grunts but says nothing. And so we walk on, the silence thick between us, cabs and rented limousines drifting past in the street.

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