Geordi drops the chocolate dildo, abandons the pepper spray, and rushes over to Josh, cradling his face. “Oh, my God! It wasn’t a dream. You’re still here.”
The owner of the men’s underwear on the ceiling fan becomes evident. Geordi’s wearing a button-down men’s dress shirt and socks.
And nothing else.
Josh, being a gentleman, grabs the duvet and covers Geordi, who reaches up to clasp Josh’s shoulder and freezes.
“What is that?” he says in a tone of disgust, pointing to his left ring finger.
Amanda comes to and looks around, palms on either side of her head. “Stop playing the tuba,” she whines.
“No one is playing the tuba,” Declan snaps. He gives the entire room a glare worthy of James.
“Amanda,” I say gently, letting Chuckles down so he can—I don’t know—go find some pussy to sleep with. “What happened?”
“Who the hell is she married to?” Andrew groans as Amanda jumps away from him, almost letting one boob show. She pins her head in place with her hands and looks at him.
“Who am I married to? What? What kind of question is that?”
“There are three men in here with wedding rings on!” Andrew shouts back.
“That’s riiiiiiigggght,” Josh says, drawing out the word, wiggling his hand with a grin. He gives Andrew a saucy look. “And the Supreme Court declared last year that I can marry anyone I want, too.”
Andrew already looks like hell warmed over, but that comment drains the hell from his blood.
I look at Amanda, then Andrew, then Geordi, my eyes slow and steady, my breathing controlled and strong. Finally, I settle on Andrew, and just as I’m about to speak, Declan beats me to it.
“Little bro, the more important question is: who the hell are you married to?”
Shannon and Declan are husband and wife! But what about Amanda and Andrew?
What’s next for Amanda and Andrew as they figure out what happened? Will Shannon and Declan finally get their honeymoon?
Check out Shopping for a CEO’s Fiancée:
We skipped right over the whole fiancée thing and went straight from girlfriend to wife.
At least, I think that’s what happened. I woke up after my brother’s Vegas wedding reception with my luscious girlfriend in bed with me. We’re both wearing wedding rings.
So is her coworker, Josh.
And our Vegas chauffeur, Geordi.
Who the hell am I married to?
Unraveling this mystery will be as difficult as figuring out why Amanda and I are having panic attacks over the thought of being husband and wife.
Or, whoever we’re actually married to.
Oh, ^%$#.
It’s true that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, with one exception:
If she’s my wife, we’ll make it work.
If she’s not?
I’ll make it happen.