Chapter 29
JOSIE
The Love Me Tender Wedding Chapel is as tacky as I imagined.
There’s an overwhelming abundance of red velvet, not to mention the gold trim on things that have no business being gold-trimmed.
A painting of Elvis on black velvet hangs behind the altar, and the carpet is the kind of pattern that was probably designed to hide stains.
The whole place smells faintly of roses and beer.
It’s perfect.
“You sure about this?” Stone murmurs, his hand warm in mine. “We can find somewhere classier. The Bellagio does weddings.”
“I don’t want classy.” I grin up at him. “I want Elvis.”
He presses a kiss to my head “Then that’s what you’ll get.”
The chapel is packed—well, packed for a 2am Vegas wedding, anyway. The entire club road tripped to Vegas to watch us get hitched. Even Brick and the Ridgeline crew came, all of them looking wildly out of place in a wedding chapel.
Even Isabel agreed to come. She and Lily stand in the back, looking as if they’re unsure exactly what they signed up for.
Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.
“Dearly beloved,” Elvis—or rather, a man in a white sequined jumpsuit who looks like Elvis’s less successful cousin—intones, “we are gathered here today to witness the union of Boone Armstrong and Josephine Bright in holy matrimony.”
I catch Stone’s eye, and we both struggle not to laugh at the Elvis impersonators horrible impression.
“Marriage,” Elvis continues, striking a pose, “is not to be entered into lightly.” He twirls.
“It is a sacred bond,” a hip thrust, “a promise made not just to each other,” he gyrates, “but to all those gathered here today.” He finishes with another twist. “It is a promise to love, to cherish, to stand by each other through the good times and the bad.”
I’m trying not to giggle as Stone squeezes my fingers, his lips pressing together as if to keep his own laughter in.
Somewhere in the audience, Ginger sniffles loudly.
“For god’s sake woman,” I hear Tank whisper. “Again?”
“I love weddings.”
Stone’s shoulders begin to shake, and I try desperately to swallow another laugh.
“Now, I understand y’all have written your own vows?” Elvis asks.
Stone nods, turning to face me fully. He takes both my hands in his, and suddenly the tackiness of the chapel, and the humor of the situations fades away.
There’s only him.
“Josie.” His voice is rough, unsteady in a way I’ve never heard. “When you walked into my clubhouse that first day, I knew you were trouble. The best kind of trouble—the kind that makes a man question everything he thought he knew about himself.”
I squeeze his hands.
“I spent fifteen years believing I wasn’t built for for love or partnership. You made me realize that was bullshit.” A soft laugh ripples through the audience. “You made me realize I was waiting. For you.”
He reaches up, brushing his thumb across my cheek.
“I can’t promise you easy. Our life is complicated, sometimes dangerous, and I know there will be days when you wonder what the hell you got yourself into.
But I can promise you this. I will love you every single fucking day.
I will protect you, support you, argue with you when you’re being stubborn—”
“I’m never stubborn,” I mutter, and the audience laughs.
“—and I will cherish you until my last breath.” His gaze holds mine. “You’re my home, Josie. The only one that’s ever felt real.”
I take a shaky breath. It’s my turn.
“Boone.” I have to stop and compose myself. “I came to Stoneheart looking for boring. Quiet. A life where nothing would ever hurt me again.” I laugh. “Instead, I found you.”
His hands tighten on mine.
“You are the least boring person I’ve ever met. You’re infuriating and protective, and so goddamn stubborn it makes me want to scream sometimes. You make decisions without consulting anyone, you think you always know best, and you have a pathological inability to delegate!”
“This is supposed to be complimentary,” he murmurs as our friends and family roar with laughter.
“I’m getting there.” I smile. “You’re also the kindest man I’ve ever known. The most loyal. The most fiercely loving, even when you pretend you’re not. You make me feel safe in a way I haven’t felt since I was a child. You make me feel seen for exactly who I am.”
I step closer, until there’s barely any space between us.
“I didn’t come to Stoneheart looking for love.
But I found it anyway. I found you, and your crazy family, and this life that’s nothing like what I planned but everything I didn’t know I needed.
” I reach up, cupping his face. “I love you, Boone Armstrong. All of you. I love you, and I choose you, and I will keep choosing you every single day for the rest of our lives.”
Elvis clears his throat. “Well, now. That was... that was beautiful.” He dabs at his eyes with a sequined sleeve. “The rings?”
Lee steps forward, producing two simple gold bands from his pocket. He hands them to Elvis with a grin.
“By the power vested in me by the state of Nevada and the King of Rock and Roll,” Elvis proclaims, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He strikes another pose. “You may kiss the bride, baby.”
Stone doesn’t need to be told twice.
He kisses me like we’re alone, like there aren’t a truckload of people watching, like the rest of the world has simply ceased to exist. His hands cup my face, his mouth claiming mine with a tenderness that makes my knees weak.
When we finally break apart, the chapel has erupted in cheers.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Elvis announces over the noise, “may I present, for the first time anywhere, Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong!”
Ginger is openly sobbing now, Tank awkwardly patting her shoulder. Lee is grinning so wide it looks like it hurts. Emma is recording everything on her phone, tears streaming down her face. I even catch Isabel smiling.
Elvis breaks into song, crooning a shockingly excellent rendition of Love Me Tender as we walk down the aisle.
“We did it,” I whisper to Stone.
“We did. Any regrets?”
“Ask me in fifty years.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“It’s a promise.” I rise on my toes to kiss him again. “Now come on, husband. I believe there’s a honeymoon suite with our name on it.”
“Best wedding ever,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Just wait until you see what I’m wearing under this dress.”
His eyes darken. “Josie...”
“The answer is nothing.” I wink. “Absolutely nothing.”
He grabs my hand and practically drags me toward the exit.
STONE
The honeymoon suite at the Bellagio is excessive.
A king-size bed with approximately four thousand pillows dominates the bedroom. Floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the Strip line one wall, and there’s a bathtub big enough to swim in. Champagne chills in a bucket that probably cost more than my first bike.
I don’t care about any of it.
The only thing I care about is currently standing by the window, her back to me, the lights of Vegas casting her silhouette in gold.
My wife.
My wife.
The words still don’t feel real.
“You’re staring,” Josie says without turning around.
“I’m allowed. You’re my wife now.”
She turns, and the smile on her face makes my chest ache. “Say that again.”
“My wife.” I cross to her, pulling her against me. “Mrs. Armstrong. My old lady. Mine.”
“Possessive, much?”
“Absolutely.” I brush my lips against her temple. “Is that a problem?”
“It’s really, really not.”
I kiss her—slow at first, savoring, but it quickly turns heated. Her fingers thread through my hair, pulling me closer. My hands find the zipper at the back of her dress.
“You weren’t lying,” I murmur as the fabric falls away. “Nothing underneath.”
“I’m a woman of my word.”
I lift her, and she wraps her legs around my waist as I carry her to that ridiculous bed with its four thousand pillows. I lay her down in the center, taking a moment to savor the view.
Josie Bright. My wife.
The woman who walked into my life and refused to leave. Who challenged me, changed me, made me want to be better than I ever thought I could be.
“I love you,” I tell her, settling over her. “I don’t know if I say that enough.”
“You show it.” Her hand traces down my chest. “That’s better than saying.”
“I want to do both.” I kiss her collarbone. “I love you.” Her shoulder. “I love you.” The curve of her neck. “I love you.”
“Boone...”
“Let me worship you.” I meet her eyes. “Let me show you what it means to be loved by me.”
“You already have.” But she arches into my touch when my hand slides between her thighs. “A thousand times over.”
“Then let me show you a thousand more.”
I take my time. We have all night. We have forever.
I explore every inch of her body. I bring her to the edge again and again, drawing out every sensation until she’s begging for release.
“Please,” she gasps. “Boone, please—”
“Please what?”
“I need you. Inside me. Now.”
I slide home in one long stroke, and we both groan at the connection. She’s tight, wet, perfect—everything I never knew I needed.
“I love you,” I tell her again as I start to move. “My wife. My everything.”
“I love you too.” She arches up to meet me. “Husband.”
We move together, finding a rhythm that builds and builds. The pleasure coils tighter with every thrust, every gasp, every whispered declaration. And when we finally fall over the edge together, it feels like the beginning of everything.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, sweaty and satisfied, watching the lights of Vegas through the window.
“So,” Josie says, tracing patterns on my chest. “What now?”
“Now we go home.” I press a kiss to her hair. “Build a life. Take down the occasional cartel. Host holiday dinners that Ginger will inevitably take over.”
“Sounds boring.”
I can hear the smile in her voice. “You love it.”
“I love you.”
“Same thing.”
She tilts her head up to kiss me, soft and sweet.
“Thank you,” she whispers against my lips. “For giving me this life I never knew I wanted.”
“Thank you for letting me.” I pull her closer.
We fall asleep as the sun starts to rise over the desert, wrapped around each other, exactly where we belong.