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Landon’s gaze bounced from her to the bouquet. “We did agree that nothing was off-limits.”
“And that we would make every terrible decision,” she added as a topsy-turvy feeling took over.
Do not marry Landon Bartholomew Paige.
Do not marry Landon Bartholomew Paige.
Do not marry Landon Bartholomew Paige.
Still, she couldn’t come up with a choice more inappropriate than getting hitched.
“Let’s hear it, folks,” Jude called through his tears. “Harper and Bartholomew! Harper and Barto-lala-mule! Harper and Barlo-kama-blue,” the man slurred.
Despite the complete and utter insanity, a bubbly euphoria couldn’t keep her from smiling at her heartthrob partner in debauchery.
“You’re probably used to people chanting your name,” she teased.
He grimaced. “It sounds better with my first name. Bartholomew doesn’t really roll off the tongue, does it?”
“Harper and Bala-meow-la-mew,” Jude continued, making her heartthrob’s point.
She tried to get a read on the pop star.
Did he really want to marry her?
Was she considering marrying him?
He wrapped his arm around her, and it felt so right, so natural, like everything in her life had led her to this wild moment.
“You’ve got nothing to fear. You’re among friends and family,” Jude blasted as Katrina did a drunken happy dance.
Nothing to fear.
She’d have plenty to fear and consequences to face. But right now, with Landon Bartholomew Paige looking at her like she made up the entirety of his universe, none of that could touch her.
“We double-dog dare you,” Jude and Katrina blasted through the cavernous space.
A double-dog dare?
She hadn’t been double-dog dared since Penny double-dog dared her to enter the school talent contest back in second grade.
She released a shaky breath and peered over Landon’s shoulder toward the Luxe Grandiose wedding chapel, where she spied her bellhop and the hostess, standing side by side with their heads cocked to the side.
She waved to them, then gazed into the chapel.
What was she doing?
This was too much. Yes, she was for pushing the limit, but marriage was going too far.
“Landon, I don’t think we—”
“Take these,” he interrupted, trading the bouquet for the cushion and her tutu.
“Are we doing this—really doing this?” she eked out.
“Let me see your left hand,” he pressed, tucking the items under his arm, then held out his palm.
She rested her left hand on his as he touched the tip of her ring finger.
“What are you thinking?” she asked. She felt ready to explode, like the grand finale of a fireworks display was going off in every cell in her body.
He flashed her that boyish half-grin.
It took her breath away.
“A dare’s a dare, bonbon. And we’ve been double-dog dared. There’s no turning back.”
