“About the person who caught my bouquet.”
A smile teased at his lips.
She gave a thoughtful hum. “I was so sure the flowers were going toward Jezebel…”
Yeah, it had certainly looked that way to him, too, but then a powerful gust of wind had taken those flowers straight to someone else. They’d actually slammed into the head of that someone else.
And Ryan had been given no choice but to grab the flowers that had hit him.
“But then Ryan snagged them,” she finished. “I know he’s only minorly stitious but…”
He blinked. Twice. “What in the hell is stitious?”
“Some people are superstitious. Ryan assured me he was minorly stitious.”
Nash shook his head against the pillow. Laughter poured from him. “Bullshit. He’s the most superstitious man I’ve ever met.” A grin lingered on his lips. “I’ve seen him throw entire saltshakers over his shoulder.”
She sent him her beautiful smile. “Well, then.”
Just that. “Uh, well, then…what?”
“When do you think he’ll be getting married?”
“He’s going on another mission. Somewhere in Europe.” Nash didn’t know more than that because the job was classified. Seeing as how Nash was officially no longer part of the CIA, he didn’t get access to classified intel. “He’s not going to fall in love. He’s going to fight bad guys. Ryan is off to save the world.”
But her eyes gleamed at him, catching the rising sunlight. “Who says that he can’t do all of the above? This is your brother. Pretty sure he’s a multitasker.”
Yeah, Ryan was a multitasker. It wasn’t Ryan’s future wife who interested him, though. Nash was focused on his own wife. His beautiful Delaney. The glow of the rising sun turned her skin a gorgeous gold. Nash forgot about his brother and the bouquet and focused on the only task that he wanted to complete. “Can you take me again?”
“I can take you…always…” Husky. Breathy. Tempting.
Nash leaned toward her. His lips pressed to hers.
My wife.
He was such a lucky bastard.
“Always, Nash,” she promised. “Always.”
* * *
THE END
