“Hundred percent,” I whisper back. “You got any arsenic on you?”
“Nope, but I’m good with my hands. You take the grandmother, I’ll take Pete. Just watch for Bess—my money says she’s a biter.”
I glare at him. “You know full well Grandmother Kirkson conceal carries. I’m not taking that on, you do her over. Pete will never see me coming.”
Josh shoots me a grin and a wink as we climb out of the Hummer.
We step through the doors of the venue, and Bess’s body language shifts immediately.
My hand snakes out, nails digging into Josh’s bicep.
“This is it!” I hiss, bouncing on my toes. “Shelovesit.”
Josh’s head swivels, taking in Bess’s starstruck expression. “Thank fuck.”
A hand smacks the back of his head, sending him pitching forward.
“Language,” his mother barks, striding past us.
Mr. Greenfeld shakes his head, shooting us a sympathetic grimace. “Your brother owes me a case of beer. I didn’t sign up for this nonsense. Nineteen fuc—” He catches his wife’s warning glare and swallows the curse. “—er… fudging venues.”
Josh and I exchange an amused look.
The venue is a rooftop fairy garden combined with a towering Cinderella ballroom, complete with a pure crystalchandelier. Ostentatious and over-the-top, but just this side of classy—and practically screams Bess.
“This is it,” she whispers, slowly circling under the chandelier as the videographer captures the moment. “This is where we’re getting married.”
Pete pulls her in. “Book it,ahfila.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. “Anything you want.”
I grin, watching Bess throw herself into Pete’s arms. They’re truly adorable. Any angst I’ve had about their engagement melts away, leaving only warm affection.
“Ah, my loves!” Josh’s mother purrs, pulling them both into a hug. “This will be the most beautiful wedding!”
I glance away, taking in the gorgeous room.
“Oh,ahlemna,” Josh chokes out, raising a fist to his mouth.
“What—oh crap.”
Off to the side, one of Granny’s chihuahuas squats on the carpet, leaving behind a little gift.
“Do you think,” Josh chokes out, his shoulders shaking, “dog poo is the new pigeon poo?”
“What?” I ask, giggling uncontrollably. “Lucky?”
“Either that or we’re in deep shit.”
We both roar with laughter.
JOSH
Molly raises the coffee mug to her lips, her eyelids fluttering closed as she pauses to inhale the roast before taking a sip.
I’ve never considered coffee erotic before, but all signs point to the fact I have a boner. I shift in my seat, thinking of baseball stats, raw eggs, and chihuahuas who don’t know better.
She sets the mug down and glances at her watch, letting out a sigh.
“You have plans?” I ask.
