Not this time, buddy.

Landon bites my earlobe, and I growl, roll out of bed, and snatch up my pillow.

“What’d I do?” he asks. I ignore him. He knows damn well what he’s doing.

“I’m going to the couch till you fall asleep.” I yank on the extra blanket, and he grabs it and pulls me forward.

“Don’t leave.”

“I have to.”

“Why?”

“Because if you keep kissing my neck, I’m going to lose.” A smile forms on my lips. “And that’s not going to happen.”

He gives me a victorious grin. “Stay.” His hand comes up to cup my face, his thumb runs over the apple of my cheek, and he leans in. My whole body buzzes and buzzes, and I know if he kisses me that’s it. I’ll jump on top of him and take it all the way.

“Good night, babe,” I say, lightly pushing his sexy face away.

He whines into the sheets while I bump the door with my hip on my way out. I can’t even walk straight.

A chill goes up my spine when I settle on the couch. I wiggle around and tuck a blanket under my legs to warm up. Then I turn the TV on and put it on the bloodiest channel I can find. After stopping on Saw number who-knows-what, and seeing a guy get doused in pig guts for twenty minutes, I’m completely turned off.

Light snores filter into the room, so I sneak back into the warm bed. Landon’s back is to me, rising and falling with deep breaths. I kiss his shoulder, then turn my back to him, cuddling with my pillow and our comforter. Oh, just imagine the rides I’ll get to experience on our wedding night. A victorious smile hits my lips now. I am the master of my own libido.

Chapter 7

My phone buzzes off my nightstand, waking me from my colorful dream filled with paint and Landon and music. I groan, dropping my arm from the mattress and feeling around for the thing.

“Hello?” I croak. What time is it?

“Are you engaged?”

“Mom?” I stifle a yawn, blinking up at the alarm clock: 7:42. Through my sleep-daze I hear the TV in the living room. Landon’s side of the bed is empty.

“Elizabeth Ann. Are. You. Engaged?”

Coherency catches up with me and I sit up, adjusting the pillows behind my back. “Hey, Mom. Guess what?”

“Give me a solid reason why I found out from Facebook and not you.”

“My friends don’t know how to keep quiet?”

It’s silent for the longest minute of my life, and I start to panic that she hung up or she’s booking a flight to New York just to give me the mommy look. I can picture her now, clicking her nails on the kitchen counter or cracking eggs into a bowl just for something to do. She always makes eggs when she’s angry.

“Are you pregnant?”

“No.”

“You swear it.”

“I swear on Nana Gomomo’s grave.”

It’s quiet, and I count twelve Mississippis before she talks again.

“Your father and I need to meet him.”

“I know.” I turn the phone on speaker and flick to my calendar, knowing she’s doing the same thing. “Landon’s booked with his movie for a couple of months, but he should be done by mid- to late October.”

She makes a clucking noise with her tongue, and I find myself involuntarily doing it with her. “I’m showing houses until after Halloween. Were you planning on coming home for Thanksgiving?”

“I don’t think we can afford it. Especially now that we’re going to save up for the honeymoon.”

“How soon are you planning the wedding?” she asks. My stomach gets a nasty twist in it because I know what her reaction will be.

“January.”

“This January?”

“Yeah.”

She does that pause again, getting my insides all jacked up. I hold on to Landon’s pillow so I don’t give in to whatever she has to say. This is my decision. I want to marry Landon, and I want to do it in January.

“Have you…I mean, you really want this right now? You’re so young.”

“I love him, Mom.”

“What about college? I thought you were planning on picking a backup this semester.”

I click off speaker and put the phone to my ear. “I’m not sure if college is for me.” I check the doorway, because I haven’t exactly told Landon this either.

“Why not?”

“I have no idea what I want to do, and it’s kind of a waste of money until I figure it out. We’re still paying off Landon’s loans, and we kind of need us both working right now.”

“You’re just going to drop what you want for what he wants? You’re prepared to keep doing that?”

“I want him to be successful. I have no idea what I want for myself yet.” It’s not completely untrue. What I want is Landon, but I know my mom will want me to have something other than a guy. I should be more than someone’s wife. I’m not up for the lecture.

She takes a deep breath. “Well, maybe your father and I should fly out there. I’ll help with wedding plans and save you some money.”

It’s probably the best I’m going to get. “Sounds good.”

“I’ll email you my calendar.” Her nails clack against what must be her keyboard. I yawn and sink farther into my sheets.

“Love you, Mom, but I was up late…”

“This conversation isn’t over.” She says it with a tone that’s half teasing, like she knows how trite she’s being. “And I love you, too. Talk soon.”

I hang up and toss my phone back onto the nightstand. Before I can overthink or worry about defending my decisions, I stuff my face into my pillow and drift back to sleep.

—

If I thought being sick made my apartment a complete hole, being a blissed-out, airheaded mess for the first week of my engagement made it a million times worse.

Landon’s been working all day every day. If not at his job that actually pays us, he’s on the movie set. He comes home totally beat after midnight, then crawls out of bed at six in the morning to head to work.

I think even if we didn’t bet on no sex, it wouldn’t be happening anyway. And forget my Hurdle List. I haven’t had time to jump over any of them.

I start up my vacuum after taking out the very full trash. Every dish is clean. Every item of clothing folded. The pictures from the engagement party are up on our collage wall—an entire wall in our living room full of pictures we actually got printed—and I pinned up our wristbands and one of Landon’s painted shoelaces. I shake my hips to “Backstreet’s Back” while I vacuum, really proud that I’m finally back to normal. If I don’t clean the apartment, no one does. What’s it going to be like when I’m really pregnant? Or when I have a kid? I’ll be cleaning up even more, I guess. Landon’s uncleanliness must be a test.

The door swings open and Landon rushes in, stripping out of his work clothes and leaving a trail on the way to the bedroom.

“You get your ass back here and pick those up!” I shout over the vacuum. Good grief.

“Sorry!” he calls from the room. “I got stuck on a call and I’ve gotta be on set in twenty.”

I sigh and turn the vacuum off. Grumbling a few choice words under my breath, I swipe up the laundry and stuff it in the hamper.

Half of Landon’s mouth lifts in the corner as he tugs on a fresh pair of jeans. “Did you just call me a manchild?”

“No,” I lie, but my phone’s going off in my pocket so I don’t want to start an argument. My brow furrows as I look at the bank notification on the screen. “Hey, did you spend money?”

“Yeah. We ran out of blood for the shoot yesterday.”

“Landon…it overdrafted the checking account.”

He pulls open his dresser drawer, unfolding everything I just folded as he digs for the one plain T-shirt he owns. “Sorry, babe. Can we cover it with savings?”

“I can’t keep doing that.” I sigh as I transfer the money. “ ’Cause you know, pretty soon that bet won’t mean a damn thing because we won’t have any money for a honeymoon.”