Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
I grin. “Maybe, but I’m not complaining.”
He looks into my eyes. “How’s your eternal soul feel about that?”
“Perfectly content and at ease, thank you very much,” I whisper with a grin. “And I mean that.”
“Good,” he growls, pulling me into him and kissing me. I giggle and pull away just enough to text my parents about being at Melanie’s, before I toss it away and snuggle into him.
“Gabriel?” I suddenly frown. “Are you really marrying Paul and Lizzie tomorrow?”
He nods. “Yep,” he says with a sly smile.
I arch a brow at the grin on his face. “What’s that about?”
“Oh, nothing.”
I twist my lips, my brow furrowing. “He’s really going to just rip off the town and leave? And you’re really okay just marrying them and letting it happen?”
Gabriel’s grin widens, and he pulls me into his arms. “You just need to trust me, angel,” he murmurs.
“Gabriel—”
“Do you trust me?”
I bite my lip, and I nod. “Yeah, I do.”
“Then let’s worry about tomorrow, tomorrow,” he murmurs. “Because I am far from done with you tonight.”
His cock throbs hard against my thigh, and I moan as he pulls me into his arms and turns off the light.
Chapter Sixteen
Gabriel
“Remember, Gabriel,” Paul mutters, glaring at me. “Just get this done, and you get to mosey on out of this town without a posse looking to put a bullet in your head, got it? Plus…” he glances around the pretty much empty tent and slips a hand into his jacket. He pulls out a wad of cash and wags his brows.
“There’s ten grand in it for you if you just make this happen without any bullshit. We clear?”
“As a bell, dipshit,” I mutter.
He chuckles. “Call me whatever you want, dumbass, I’m getting out of here, and I’m never looking back. Now, let’s do this shit.”
I nod, but I’m already looking past him. Behind him at the opening of the tent is Jeb and Christina Somerset, with Delilah standing behind them. She’s freshly showered after heading home early this morning from my place, and she looks fucking amazing in this gorgeous blue sundress with her hair down over one shoulder.
She catches my eye, and she grins and blushes, but without any trace of shyness. It’s just a pure, heated, hungry blush. And my pulse quickens as I think about what I’m about to pull off.
It has a lot of ways to go south. And part of me—well, no, most of me, is wondering why in the fuck I’m sticking my neck out like this for this fucking town and these fucking people. I’m way off script here—after all, I’m supposed to leave here tomorrow and never come back. But obviously, plans have changed. Hell, my life’s plans changed when Delilah Somerset walked across that field into my world.
“We ready to do this thing?”
Thomas Purcell, the scowling father of the equally as bored and unhappy looking bride-to-be, claps his hands. “Let’s get this show going, folks.”
Paul smiles at him. “A man of action, Thomas, I like it.”
Thomas just rolls his eyes and looks away at his phone. Paul turns to me, his brow hardened.
“Just get this done,” he hisses.
His plan isn’t bad. Actually, the old me might even be a little impressed. He’s going to get me, the fake preacher, to fake marry him and Lizzie. He’ll get the license signed before anyone can actually check my credentials, because who’s going to question a preacher, and he’s even got a town clerk, a notary, and two cops here somehow to speed things along. Then, he and Lizzie are going to go directly to the bank to open a joint account. Lizzie is then going to use her own attorney to file an expedited motion to access her trust fund which is attached to a big account of her father’s. She’s going to empty it into the new shared account, Paul is going to transfer most of it to a fake company account, minus Lizzie’s cut, and then it’s bye-bye Georgia, hello Costa Rica.
Like I said, it’s actually a pretty great plan, and the me from even a week ago would almost be envious of how well it’s going to go.
…That is, except for one teeny, tiny little detail which Paul hasn’t bothered to look into. But it’s about to bite him firmly in the ass. The only trick is, to make sure my ass doesn’t get bit, too.
“Well then,” I mutter, clasping my hands. “Let us begin. Will the bride and groom step forward to the altar?”
A grinning Paul and a sullen Lizzie step forward, and their families cluster behind them.
“We are gathered here today—”
“We all know why we’re here,” Lizzie drones in a bored tone. “Just skip to the important part.”
Ahh, romance. Thomas Purcell is still staring at his phone, but the poor Somerset’s look heartbroken. I clear my throat and keep going.