Great. Now my dick’s broken.
I’m going to be one of those guys in the Viagra commercials. Thirty-five and incapable of getting it up.
An eyeful of cleavage after three weeks in the desert should wake something up down there. A twitch. A jerk. Ahello, did you forget about me?
It’s not like Harper isn’t attractive, either. She’s young. Her body’s ridiculous.
But... nothing. And I’m not sure if it’s because I’m too distracted, or because the only person I want touching me right now is the one I can’t have.
I scribble my name on the last page and let out a heavy breath. “I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind.”
She bites her lip, hesitant. “Well, it’s not good to hold things in, so… you know.” She gathers the papers, hands a little shaky. “If you ever need someone to talk to…”
Jesus Christ.
I can usually handle her flirty nature. Sometimes it’s even cute. But right now? I don’t have the patience.
“Thanks, Harper.” I force a barely-there smile and redirect. “I’ll be out of the office until two. I’ll need you to hold my calls and let people know I’ll get back to them later today.”
“Yes, sir.”
She turns to leave, but I stop her. “And Harper?”
She pauses, hopeful.
I almost say something about her outfit. But no, that’s a conversation for HR. Not me. “Thank you,” I say instead.
“It’s my pleasure.” Her smile turns sweet, then she slips out the door.
I stand, close my laptop, and follow, pulling out my phone to text Jordan and let her know I’m on my way.
We followthe clerk into a room that looks like it belongs in an elementary school. Plain cream walls, fluorescent lighting, one long bench resting beneath an average-sized window. A small podium sits front and center.
It’s anything but a place to get married. We even walked through metal detectors a few minutes ago, for Christ’s sake.
Jordan looks completely out of place in the best way. She always dresses up for work, but today she’s in a dark green dress, and damn, that color on her.
“Are you two exchanging rings?” the clerk asks over her shoulder.
“No,” Jordan says at the same time I say, “Yes.”
The clerk pauses, and Jordan looks at me, brows knitting together.
“I picked up a ring for me the other day,” I say, pulling it from my pocket and handing it to her.
She gives a tiny smile. “Alright, then. Rings it is.” She slips off the one I gave her and places it in my palm.
“You ready?” I ask, my heart thumping harder than it should.
Jesus. Why am I nervous?
“I think so,” she whispers.
I lock eyes with her and give a slight nod, letting her know I’ve got her. That I’m here. Even if I don’t know what the hell that really means yet. “Let’s do this then.”
Sabrina stands a few feet away, grinning ear to ear. Jordan brought her as our witness.
The clerk stands behind the podium. “Hold hands,” she says, tone flat. She barely looks up as she starts reciting words I’ve heard a hundred times in movies and at friends’ weddings.
