The Art of Seducing a Naked Werewolf (37 page)

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” I whispered after Cooper had handed me off to Nick. “We could have gone to Vegas!”

“You’re beautiful,” he told me.

I was probably the only bride to scowl at her husband while being led to the altar. (Well, the only non-mail-order bride, at least.) But when Nick turned with me toward Pops, who oversaw the vows as the oldest member of the pack, I was grinning like a big, happy idiot.

I tried to think of some other words to describe my state. But big, happy, and idiot seemed to sum it right up. I would probably learn fancier words when I started those college classes. Nick clasped my hand in his, and I mentally calculated exactly how many hours stood between us and boarding the ferry to Washington. Nick was finally going to visit my happy place, in the less sexual sense of the word.

Surely, normal brides did not have these thoughts as their grandfathers/officiants began reciting the wedding vows.

I grinned up at Nick, and he winked at me. We turned toward Pops with joined hands. I was going to see the world, a little bit at a time. But for right now, I was where I was needed, and loved.