Page 88 of The Bodyguard's Fall

“Since I’m about to marry you, you sleeping on the floor in my room is probably the least of my worries.”

“This bed’s for you,” he teased as he laid out a blanket on top of the mattress.

“I can take it,” I offered, halfway out of my bed.

“Olivia,” he growled.

“What? I can.”

“Get under your covers.”

“Fine. When you roll off that tiny bed, don’t say I didn’t offer.”

“You’re offering for me to stay in your bed with you?”

“No…to switch beds.”

“Yeah. Not interested.”

I snorted, aware of a warm glow circulating my body.

“Goodnight, Rawlins.”

Despite the dreadful day, I drifted off to sleep with a smile on my face and the knowledge that Tate was only three feet away.

We pulled up to the District Court in Lebanon, New Hampshire sometime after lunch. It was a small, red brick building with white trim, almost resembling a church, which came in handy. Tom’s friend had pulled a few strings. He said that once our marriage license had been approved, they’d have someone there to perform the ceremony for us. It felt like we’d had a big checklist this morning, going over everything we needed to make this happen.

Personal ID? Check.

Birth certificate? Check.

Borrowed semi-white dress from Ann? Check.

Wedding rings? After a quick stop at a department store…check.

Nerves in check? Not quite.

All my big thoughts yesterday about keeping the teasing upper hand in our relationship went completely out the window the closer we got to our 2:30 ceremony time.

“What are we going to do about the kiss part?” I asked as we made our way, dress and bags in hand, from Luke’s truck to the courthouse.

He looked over at me, amusement lining his features. “Is that all you’re thinking about, Rawlins? I’m not a piece of meat.”

“No,” I bristled, though grateful for his teasing.

He gave me a look that was all smug lips and raised eyebrows.

“It’s not. I just want to be sure we’re on the same page.”

“I’m going to kiss you. The end.”

I waited until the bolt of fire erupting down my veins at his words had dissipated before I swallowed and answered.

“Like…one second? Five seconds? Are you going to make it good? Are we trying to convince the judge of something?”

He looked mortally wounded. “I always make it good.”

“I’m not looking to get my socks knocked off over here at our impromptu courthouse wedding. I just…never mind.”