Love Arranged (Lakefront Billionaires, #3)(124)

I toss my work apron across the stool I ditched an hour ago in favor of working on my feet. “What time is it?”

“Four.”

I gasp. “We gotta go!”

I’m a frazzled mess as I dart around the workshop, searching for my phone. Lorenzo lunges forward and catches me when I trip over a box of supplies that I accidently left in the middle of a walkway.

“You’re a walking, talking safety hazard,” he says before searching for my phone. I’m strongly encouraged—okay, forced—to sit on a stool and watch him find the device in less than a minute.

“Show off.” I rise from the seat. “Now, time to find my keys.”

His eyes close with his long exhale.

“Kidding! They’re in my purse.” I pat the leather shoulder bag pressing into my side.

“You go ahead. I’m going to help clean up a bit before locking up.”

“Are you sure?”

He checks his watch. “We have an hour before we need to leave for the airport and you’re still not finished packing, so yes. Now get going.”

“You’re the best!” I hit him with a quick kiss on the cheek, and he returns my affectionate peck by sliding his hands into the back pockets of my jeans and tugging me into his body.

He crushes his lips to mine and kisses me until I forget all about what I originally set out to do.

“See you soon, wife,” he says with a rasp while pulling his hands away.

An excited tingle spreads down my spine.

“Now, Lily.” He gives my ass a light swat, and I take off for the exit because as much as I want to stick around, I need to get packing.

We have a plane to catch and a honeymoon to start, and commercial flights wait for no one.




“Welcome to Amsterdam,” the flight attendant says both in English and Dutch.

“We finally made it!” I let out an excited squeal as Lorenzo and I exit the aircraft and head toward baggage claim.

He wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me in for a kiss. “Excited?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve been dreaming of this day since I did an entire presentation on Holland.”

Despite Lorenzo’s offer to book a year ago, I wanted to hold off on visiting Europe until our honeymoon. Between him becoming mayor, me focusing on the Pressed Petal, and us planning a three-hundred-person wedding, we couldn’t take a two-week vacation. Plus I wanted to finish building our dream cottage, which Dahlia and Julian helped us build from the ground up.

I never thought I’d see the day where Lorenzo asked Julian for his opinion on anything, but turns out the two can get along, although I’m not sure they’d ever build another house together. Apparently Julian didn’t appreciate the way Lorenzo was always breathing down his neck, making sure everything down to the grout color matched my vision for our future home.

Now that our lives are settled, we finally sat down to plan our honeymoon.

With our schedules fully cleared for the first time since Lorenzo’s victory speech, I’m looking forward to some alone time with my husband.

Lorenzo doesn’t so much as grumble when he lifts my massive, overweight luggage off the conveyer belt, although his arms strain when he has to roll it through the busy train station and carry it up the platform steps once we arrive at the city center.

He curses in Italian more than once while I push his cute little carry-on luggage around with a smile. Once we arrive at our hotel, he lets out a relieved sigh, only to have it cut short when I nearly get mowed down by a bicycle.

He doesn’t let go of my hand after that, and he spends the entire check-in and ride up to our hotel room quietly processing the incident.

“I’ll be more careful next time, baby,” I try to reassure him. “I didn’t realize I was standing in the middle of a bike lane.”

He locks the door behind us and triple-checks the lock before turning to face me. “This trip is going to send me straight back to therapy.”

He has no idea.

“How’s your anxiety?” I offer him a compassionate smile because yes, there is a chance he might have to discuss a few new worries with his therapist once we return home.

He shoots me a look. “It was better, but now that you almost died from a bicycle…”

I gape at him. “Died? Don’t be dramatic.”

“Did you see how fast he was pedaling? The person had to be clocking forty miles an hour.”

I laugh from the absurdity of that comment. “Uh, no. I was too busy being saved by my husband to notice.” I throw my arms around his neck and pull him in for a hug. “You’re my hero.”

His eyes soften at the corners. “I can’t be around to protect you twenty-four seven.”

“No, but for the next two weeks, you’re all mine, husband.”

His mouth finds mine as he steals a passionate kiss that ends all too soon. “First baby. Now husband. What’s next?”

“How about daddy?” I tease.

He chokes on air. “On second thought, let’s stick with those two.”

Screw it.

I had this entire plan set up with a photographer, but I don’t think I can hold the secret in any longer, especially if I randomly get nauseous during the day. So, with a shaky hand, I reach inside my purse and pull out a grainy black-and-white photo. “At least you have eight months to change your mind.”