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“Here,” he shrugged out of his red plaid shirt, “put this on.”
I laughed as I put it on. “I didn’t picture getting married in your plaid shirt either.”
“Who wouldn’t want to get married in plaid?” He scoffed, throwing a wink my way.
I shook my head, fighting a smile. “Are we really doing this?”
“We are,” he entwined our fingers together and brought our joined hands up to his lips, kissing my knuckles.
“I really hope your mom doesn’t kill us,” I mumbled.
He chuckled. “I think we should be more worried about your mom. Pregnant ladies can get pretty crazy.”
I snorted, gazing out the window as he pulled away. “You’re probably right.”
“Now,” he smiled, slipping his sunglasses on, “we need to find the nearest courthouse.”
Unfortunately, our rumbling stomachs ceased our search for a courthouse, at least for the time being.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, taking a bite of my egg sandwich. “You were really cold last night and I was scared you might get sick.
A boyish grin lifted his lips as he leaned back casually in the booth. “I’m fine. Lucky for me, I had someone to warm me up.”
“Stop it,” I groaned, throwing my wadded up napkin at him.
“What?” He batted his eyes innocently. “You did a really good job.”
“You—just—ugh.” I buried my face in my hands. I was going to have to start leaving Trace at home, or in this case—the car, if he kept talking like that in public.
“Don’t be embarrassed. You were hot last night—no pun intended,” he smiled crookedly. “It was nice having you on top for a change.”
“Trace!” I shrieked, causing an elderly couple to glance our way. I knew my cheeks were bright red but I didn’t care.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” he continued, “I prefer being on top, but it’s nice to mix it up every now and then,” he winked.
My heart was about to race out of my chest as I looked around to see if anyone had heard him.
Based on the smirk the guy in the booth next to us was wearing it was safe to assume he had.
“I can’t believe you,” I frowned.
“Hey,” he draped an arm across the back of the booth, “you knew what you were getting into when you met me.”
“That I did,” I groaned. “I must have been insane.”
“Or wowed by how amazing I am,” he chuckled.
“How about amazingly immature?” I retorted.
He leaned forward so there was little space between us. “Look at us, we’re already bickering like an old married couple and we haven’t even signed any official documents. The next seventy or so years of our lives seem so promising.”
“Where do you come up with this stuff?”
“My mind. It’s a spectacular place to reside. Mere mortals like you can’t fathom it,” he bit his lip, eyeing me.
I tried not to, but I couldn’t help laughing. I was weak and it was impossible for me to stay mad at Trace, even if he was speaking publicly about our sex life. That was the power of his charm.
“Your mind is bound to be a strange place,” I giggled.
