Confetti Hearts (Confetti Hitched, #1)(25)

His mouth quirks.

I shove myself away from the wall and sway down the corridor. “I need my bed.”

“Wait. Is that why you’re pulling away from me?”

“Am I?”

“You know you are.”

We’re suddenly serious, and I flail a little. I’m not used to earnestness from him. He’s the epitome of cool customer.

“Is it because I don’t tell you things, Joe?” For such an assured man, he sounds oddly discomposed. “I’m not good at those things. I don’t enjoy flaying myself open to people.”

“It’s not quite as dramatic as that. Just tell me your favourite colour, which side of the bed you like, and what your ambition is in life.”

“Blue. Any side with you in it. And I want to marry you.”

I jerk to a standstill and spin around. He’s watching me, his eyes bleary but very bright. “What?” It’s intended to be a whisper but comes out as a shout.

“Robin’s egg blue, I should say. The colour of your eyes.”

“What? Wait. Did you just say you want to marry me?”

“Oh, you don’t want to discuss my side-of-the-bed preferences?”

“Lachlan Moore,” I shout.

Laughing, he walks closer and draws me into his arms. He’s warm and big and strong, and I snuggle into him without thinking about it.

“Marry me,” he urges.

“Have you gone completely raving fucking mad?”

He laughs and there’s a very wild edge to it. “Completely bonkers, but let’s do it anyway.”

“You actually want to marry me?”

“I do,” he says in a mock solemn tone that he spoils by laughing like an idiot.

“Why? Because I’m so very different from other mortals, or because you know I’m pulling away?”

“No, of course not,” he says quickly.

I narrow my eyes at him, because it sounds like a lie. “Then why?”

“Because…”

“Because what?”

His shrug makes him stagger, and he misses the wall when he tries to lean against it. “Just because. Because I’m Lachlan and you’re Joe. Because you’re the best I’ve ever had in my bed and out of it. Because you make me laugh. Because you fascinate me. Because we’re in Vegas and we’re drunk and I’m happy. Because.”

I shake my head. “I am way too drunk for this conversation,” I say, but my words aren’t strong at all.

He cocks his head, his expression wickedly tempting. “Come on,” he coaxes. “You and me. Let’s get married, Joe. Let’s show them what a real wedding is all about.”

“Well, it’s going to be one I’m not planning.”

He senses victory and grins. I sigh and when I close my eyes, his lips land on the soft skin of my eyelids.

“Let’s do it,” he urges, his voice a rich temptation. “Come on, Joe. Marry me. I’ll sort out everything. I promise you.”

Something’s missing, but I’m too drunk to figure it out. I stare at his beautiful, craggy face. This fascinating man. The most fascinating man I’ve ever met. Funny and clever and sharp. A challenge unlike anyone I’ve been with before.

“Yes?” he says.

I slowly nod. “Yes.”

I laugh loudly as he seizes me and spins me around, launching into a stumbling tango down the corridor.

A door opens. “Shut the fuck up,” an irate voice says.

“We’re getting married,” I shout. I sway as dizziness seizes me and then chuckle as Lachlan raises me and I wrap my legs around his narrow hips. I grip tighter as he staggers.

“Well then, get your asses to a fucking wedding chapel and get the hell out of the hallway,” comes the wise retort.

“We’re going to,” Lachlan says, peppering my face with kisses and then settling his lips on mine.

The door slams, and he pulls back and says, “I’ll organise everything. Don’t you do a thing.”

“I think I’m the expert in these matters. You might want to consult me as you’re very much a wedding virgin.”





A few hours later, I stand in a carpark next to the limousine that Lachlan hired and look up at the sign on the nearby building.

“The Love Me Tender Wedding Chapel,” I say and break into a fit of giggles. “This is what you’ve come up with?”

He smiles crookedly at me. “Well, it’s not home counties and orange blossom, but I figured you’ve had more than enough of that. Would you like me to act like a bride? Shall I cry down the phone to you or maybe we can hire a hooker and charge it to your credit card.” He chuckles at his own wit.

The small white building would be quaint if there wasn’t traffic whizzing past us at high speed. In the front, is a gazebo and— I narrow my eyes. “Is that AstroTurf?”

Lachlan chuckles and lurches slightly before steadying himself against the limo. “Maybe we can have a g-game of golf afterwards.”

There are statues of Cupid everywhere—little, fat babies peeking over bushes and shooting arrows into the air, and in the middle, is a huge cardboard cut-out of Elvis. It’s like some sort of mad rockery.

I look at my prospective bridegroom. Bridegroom? Shit! He looks amazing dressed in old jeans and a navy T-shirt that shows off his big biceps.