Page 102 of Last First Kiss

Jordan does too. His phone pings with a new notification.

The first half of his inbox is filled with emails from Javi. To avoid dealing with him in person, Jordan’s taken to giving Javi assignments. Tiny tasks to check off so he feels like Jordan appreciates his knowledge or whatever.

The latest emails are about DJs. Lydia continues to insist on a small orchestra for the ceremony. Jordan’s determined to convince her otherwise. At least for the reception. No one’s doing the “Cupid Shuffle” to Mozart.

At least, not without a much bigger alcohol budget.

“Be back soon,” Marisol says to Amy.

The boutique’s short-staffed today. A summer flu has descended on Atlanta. Jordan refuses to acknowledge his mom’s CDC conspiracy theory.

On the other side of the shop is another couple waiting to be fitted by Marisol. She hurries off to them.

“Hey.”

Jamie’s voice has a playful, almost conspiratorial edge to it. Jordan hates that he’s immediately drawn to it too.

“Hmm?”

“I have an idea.”

Jordan squints. “That’s never good.”

“It is if it’ll cheer Amy up.”

Jordan’s eyes flit over to her. She twists side to side. Pushes her hair up, and lets it fall just above her shoulders. He can tell she’s desperate to fall in love with the dress. With the woman she sees in the mirrors.

But nothing’s working.

Jordan whispers, “Will it get us kicked out? Or worse—on the five o’clock news?”

“Forgettable headline on the ten o’clock news right after the weather report at best,” Jamie teases.

Jordan’s gaze lands on the crooked curve of his mouth. Jordan’s kissed those lips, more than once now. Those full, pink, wicked lips have also—

“Are you in?”

Jordan snaps back to himself. “Am I—what?”

Jamie wiggles something in front of him. A tiny baggie with colorful sugar-coated cubes inside.

Jordan balks. “Weed gummies? You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” Jamie confirms.

“We can’t.”

“We can.” Jamie unseals the bag. “They’re harmless.”

“Harmless as those pot brownies were supposed to be?”

“Is it my fault you had such a low tolerance?”

“Me?” Jordan practically screeches.

“What are you two doing over there?” Amy asks.

Jordan scrambles back like they’ve been caught making outon the love seat rather than discussing some questionably legal candies that Jamie’s freely waving in the air now.