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But as soon as I texted Jenna the good news, she was already planning a date to pick out a dress and a cake.
“We’re going to keep it small. Maybe even a quickie, private ceremony,” I had told her when we were all back at work a few days later.
She simply blinked at me. “You do know the entire newsroom and the crew will want to be there, right? After everything you do for them, they all owe you about 500 wedding gifts, by my count.”
When I had told Violet the good news, all bets were off. Not only was Violet going to officiate the ceremony, she also offered the Soda Jerk, with its elaborate stage and large dance floor, as a venue.
Before I could protest, Jenna and Violet were putting their heads together as planner and coordinator. Don’t even ask me which of them was the planner and which one of them was the coordinator. The pair became thick as thieves, carrying around binders with fabric swatches, pictures of floral arrangements, and who knows what else.
There was no stopping that train.
Although I wanted to be married to my big Bear as soon as possible, I have to admit it felt nice to let friends plan my wedding for me. I have no clue about dresses or flowers. The only detail I really cared about was the cake. When I finally caved in and gave Jenna and Violet my blessing to proceed with whatever they wanted to cook up, the cake was my only demand.
“Coconut lime cake, because it was my mom’s favorite,” I said, “and I want snowflake decorations, to honor how Bear and I met.”
Cake is really the highlight of a wedding in my book. “Everything else? Meh, go sick,” I told them.
I had to break the news to Bear the gentlest way I could.
While I was naked. In bed. With a surprise.
He was muttering in frustration as he came in the door from work.
“Bad day?” I asked, shamelessly spreading my legs for him.
He stopped short when he saw me. A saucy grin slowly spread across his face. “You know what? I don’t remember.”
As my big Bear undressed and got ready to shower, I said, “don’t. I want you dirty, and right now.”
Damn if he didn’t have a mile long hard-on stretching to be free of his boxer briefs when I said that.
My golden-eyed boy nestled himself between my legs and hovered over me. His warmth and the scent of hard work was intoxicating. It took so little from him — that look, that scent, the salty taste of him after work — to get my lady bits pulsing with need.
“Wait a minute,” he said, stopping short. “What are you up to?”
Damn. So close.
I cleared my throat. “I met with Jenna and Violet today.”
Bear narrowed his eyes at me. “What did you do, weather girl?”
I faked offense at his assumption of my motives, which he saw right through. “I didn’t do anything. Not exactly.”
He sighed and sat up on his knees. “Spill it.”
I shrugged. “You know, according to some people, a year is a relatively short engagement.”
My Bear looked thoughtful for a moment, and then leaned over me again. I like him just like that: wedged between my legs, his big, sinewy arms caging me in as he hovers, staring down at my face.
He surprised me by softly asking, “You want a real wedding? Dress? Cake? Flowers? The works?”
I smiled. “I want everyone who wants to be there, to be there. And mostly, I want cake.”
He laughed. “What my weather girl wants, my weather girl gets. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”
I pouted. “But I was all set to distract you from being upset. I even got a new toy.”
His eyes perked up. “Really? Out with it.”
