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“I’m fine,” he assured me.
“Are you?” I questioned worriedly. “I don’t want you to do this,” I motioned to the courtroom, “just because you feel it’s the only way to establish control. I love you, Trace. I don’t care when or where we get married. If you want to walk out those doors right now, that’s—”
He silenced me with a kiss. Damn him.
“You’ve really got to stop doing that,” I groaned when he released me.
“Well, you talk too much,” he smirked. Sobering, he added, “It hurts me that you’d think that. All I want is to be married to you, I swear. No hidden agenda here. When we get back home, I’m going to make sure you get a traditional wedding with a white dress, cake, and flowers. Whatever the hell you want, it’s yours.”
I fought a smile. “That’s quite a promise.”
“It’s one I can keep,” he responded, biting his lip. He didn’t bite his lip often, but when he did it sent my tummy fluttering. He wasn’t even trying to be seductive, but it was working.
We were quiet as the rest of the ceremonies were performed. When we were called up, I thought my heart was going to race right out of my chest.
The Justice of Peace smiled pleasantly at us. “Do you have any witnesses with you?”
I shook my head.
“No,” Trace answered, “do these lovely people count?” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder to more couples that had come in after us.
“They sure do,” the kind gray-haired man smiled.
He began speaking and I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to repeat after him, or Trace, or was I just supposed to say I do? Oh crap, I was panicking, and therefore sweating in places no one should ever sweat.
When the Justice of Peace paused, waiting for me to respond, I shouted, “I do!”
Trace threw his head back in laughter and the other couples in the room joined in. I was sure my face was red as a tomato. Lovely.
Stifling his laughter, Trace said to the Justice of Peace, “At least she’s excited to marry me.”
The man chuckled, one of those hardy belly laughs that always made me think of Santa. “That’s for sure.”
And I officially wanted to crawl in a hole and die. Could you die from embarrassment? If you could, I was sure I was a few seconds away from being cosmically struck by lightning.
“It was my turn to say, ‘I do,’” Trace winked.
My face reddened even more. “Oops,” I shifted my eyes guiltily to the floor.
“Would you like me to start over?” The man asked.
“No need,” Trace smiled pleasantly. My eyes were still downcast and he grabbed my chin, forcing my face up. “Don’t be embarrassed.”
That was easier said than done.
I nodded though, to make him feel better.
“I do,” Trace said, squaring his shoulders, and holding my hands in his.
I forced myself to listen to what the man was saying this time, so I didn’t say anything I wasn’t supposed to.
“Olivia Camille Owens, do you take Trace Alexander Wentworth to be your husband? Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect him, forsaking all others and holding only to him forevermore?”
“I do,” I answered softly but without hesitation.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride,” he clapped Trace on the shoulder.
“About time,” Trace grinned, taking my cheeks between his hands and kissing me deeply. He dipped me down and my hair skimmed the floor.
