“It’s Liz,” Landon says.

“That’s what I said.”

He opens his mouth, but shuts it and shakes his head. He puts a hand on the small of my back and guides me down a hallway and toward the backyard. We pass a room where a giant dog is going to town on a pillow. I suppress my laughter yet again, stopping in the hall and pointing a questioning finger in the dog’s direction.

“Buster,” Landon says.

“…is horny,” I joke. “What kind of dog is he?”

“Pit-Lab mix.”

“Gotta be seventy pounds or more.”

“Hundred pounds, actually. Most of his bulk is covered by that poor pillow right now.”

I finally let out that laugh, and then hear a fake cough behind us. I look over my shoulder at my future mother-in-law, who has decided to fix the picture on the wall I was standing next to while muttering under her breath. Maybe she’s frosty to everyone. She didn’t even hug her son, and he hasn’t been home in over a year.

“Is it warmer out here than it is in there, or is it just me?” Landon jokes when we step outside. It’s pretty chilly, so I take his hand and pump it twice. He squeezes once.

The back of the house faces west, so the sunset casts a nice orangey glow across a wooden-fenced yard. There’s a massive garden along the right side, pumpkins and squash overflowing. Looks like someone has a green thumb. I can’t even take care of bamboo, and that stuff is supposed to last forever.

“My dad’s.” Landon nods to the garden. “He’s good, huh? If I had the patience for it…and a yard, I’d probably want to do that, too.”

“Garden?” That’s a surprise. “What would you plant?”

His arms circle my waist, and I rest against his chest. His heart is pounding, but slows into a gentle rhythm.

“Corn. I’d grow enough to make a maze.”

“And shoot a horror movie in it.”

“Not a bad idea.”

“What’s that over there?”

“Tree house.”

“Is it stable?”

“It was when I was twelve.”

“Did you ever make out with anyone in there?”

“I didn’t have that much game.”

I turn around and give him a wicked smile. “Your tree house has not seen any action.” I pull on his arm. “Let’s go take its virginity.”

He lets me drag him across the yard, and I internally happy dance. Maybe we can hide out in the tree all weekend.

“Be careful on the ladder,” he says when I step up on the wood plank nailed to the giant trunk.

“I’ll be fine.”

“The boards are a bit loose.”

“Maybe a little, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“Put your foot closer to the middle there.”

“Ouch! Oh shit!”

“You okay?”

“The boards are loose.”

“I told you.”

“I almost died!”

He laughs and sets his hands just under my butt and pushes. My upper body flings across the dusty floor of the tree house. Doing a not-so-hot shimmy, I wiggle inside and turn around so I can help Landon.

He’s okay on the first step. Okay on the second. Wobbles on the third and curses on the fourth while reaching for my hand. I’m belly laughing so hard I can barely help pull him up, but he eventually rolls in next to me, breathless and smiling. I rest my head on his pounding heart and wipe dirt from his shirt.

“I feel old now,” I say.

“You are over two decades.”

“You’re over two and a half.”

“Cougar chaser.”

“Cradle robber.”

He laces his fingers with mine, and we go silent but for our breathing. I know I promised him a make-out, but lying here in the creaky tree house listening to the soft thuds of his heart is too blissful to make me want to move.

“Alec hung that poster, by the way,” Landon says after a moment. I grin at the faded and cracked Emma Watson picture. Underneath, carved in the tree bark, it says 10 POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR.

“Don’t lie,” I tease. “I’ve seen you watch those movies with far too much enthusiasm.”

“I enjoy the cinematography.”

I snort and roll on top of him. His eyes look sad, so I pepper kisses across his face.

After a ridiculous number of pecks, he cracks a smile and catches my cheeks. He pulls my forehead against his and his hands tangle in my hair, creating goose bumps up and down my neck. His eyes close and mine follow, sinking us into our quiet world again. It’s so amazingly perfect here. His breath, his warmth, the scruff on his chin, the faded words on his T-shirt and baseball cap.

I could live like this forever.

“So could I,” he whispers. I smile and slide down his body to rest my head back on his chest. It feels new again. Somewhere different. And things start to stir up in my loins. I wonder if he’s sporting wood.

I reach down, and realize almost too late that I’m not supposed to touch, so I just sort of awkwardly hover over his zipper.

He raises an eyebrow, then his smile widens into that competitive grin, and I move my hand to shove his face away.

“Landon?” a male voice calls from the yard. Landon shifts underneath me and pokes his head out the wide opening of the tree house.

“Hey, Pop.” He calls his parents Ma and Pop, and I’m smiling again. “Give me a second.”

I lean up off Landon, and the devil butterflies wake up. Okay, future father-in-law is up next, and I’m hoping that Hurdle is a lot shorter than the mother-in-law one. I quickly do a swipe under my eyes in case there are any mascara goobers and then adjust my shirt. Landon takes my hand, subduing the possessed stomach for the moment.

“Now, be careful,” he says with a wink. “The boards are loose.”

I punch his shoulder, and I don’t even feel bad about it.

Chapter 10

The Wangfords’ dinner table is small. We’re all squished in, Landon’s shoulder smashed with mine, his giant of a father on one end, elbowing the wall every time he picks up his wineglass. Mrs. Wangford is at the other end, tiny and looking comfortable physically, but emotionally she keeps looking at my left hand like I’m about to pull a gun on her. The only one—besides Buster—that looks completely at ease is Elle, Landon’s sister, who is on her second helping of Pad Thai.

“Did he ever tell you about his last night here before he moved?” Elle says through a mouthful, gesturing at Landon. “He blew up the garbage can, and we found him naked in Dad’s garden the next morning.”

I laugh around my glass, and Landon points his fork at his sister. “That’s an exaggeration. I was in my boxers.”

“You were so commando.”

Landon huffs, shakes his head, then makes his mouth very busy. I take another sip of wine. It stings my throat a little, but it’s something to do. I don’t want to scarf down my food before anyone else.

“So,” his mom says, eyes burning into my hand. “Are you pregnant?”

Mr. Wangford chokes on his food and Elle gives him one hard smack on the back.

“Julie—”

“What? We’re all thinking it.” Mrs. Wangford looks back at me. “Is that what this is all about?” She points directly at my hand, and I feel like I should hide it, but I keep it firmly planted in sight.

“Liz isn’t pregnant, Mom.” Landon calls her Mom this time. “But we are getting married.”

“Well, no shit.” Elle laughs around her food. “But I’m calling malarkey on the pregnant thing.”

“I’m not,” I say, probably surprising the whole table that I’ve finally said something.

“But you’re, like, twelve.” Elle laughs again, picking up her wine. I do the same, swishing it around like I know what I’m doing, even if I don’t.

“Twenty-two actually. But thanks, I guess.”

“Are you crazy?” Mrs. Wangford says, and Landon gives me a look like, “I told you so.” I drain my wineglass.

“We’re…crazy in love,” Landon says, and I have to fight laughing at him. “We’ve set the wedding for Jan—”