I drop my hands but keep my eyes on the ceiling. Think unsexy thoughts.

Dirty socks.

Landon’s dirty socks.

Landon’s dirty socks always on the floor.

In the living room.

Every day.

Bam. Take that, libido.

I turn to him, and he’s concentrating on the ceiling as well. My eyes skate down his body and I watch his hard drive morph into a floppy disk.

“Didn’t you say this was supposed to be fun?” he says after a minute.

“It’s not fun simply kissing me?” I tease, still trying to keep my breathing even. Oh, my plan is working. Our wedding night is going to be so hot and sweaty and double-fudge raspberry cheesecake that’s the size of the moon.

He growls, fists a pillow, and pushes it over his face. I lean up to tickle him, but when I look over Landon’s shoulder all I see is a big, wet puppy nose, and when Buster catches my gaze he barks and I fall off the bed.

I hear Landon’s muffled laughter from beneath the pillow over his head, and Buster’s collar jangles like crazy as he makes his way to me and tries to pick up where Landon left off. I hold on to my gag reflex as a giant, slobbery tongue heads right for my entire face.

“Buster, no,” I scold, but it’s no use. That tongue finds my skin, and I smash my lips together and close my eyes in a futile attempt to keep the disgusting level down.

“Hey,” I hear Landon from over my head. I want to yell at him for not helping me out here, but there’s no way I’m opening my mouth when I’m being tongued by a hundred-pound pit bull.

“When you’re done making out with the dog, I want to show you something,” he says, and I can damn near hear the laughter in his voice. I push my hand into Buster’s collar and yank him away before he starts getting a little too friendly with me.

“Shower first,” I tell him through squished lips, and I crawl to my feet.

“Down the hall. It’s the room with the toilet in it.”

“Thanks. I never would’ve figured that out.”

He stretches on the bed, and I take the opportunity to grab a pillow and toss it at his crotch. Then I bolt from the room before he tosses it back.

After my cold shower, I put on the least sexy thing I packed and keep Buster close. I need a cock-blocker if Landon can get me revved up while I’m completely hungover.

I was hoping to smell some sort of food as I make my way down to the kitchen, but it’s just the soap from the shower. I smooth my braid over my shoulder when I reach the landing and subtly fix my bra straps to make sure they aren’t showing. Last Night Lizzie didn’t make a very good impression. But by golly, Breakfast Lizzie will win over the in-laws. Hurdle number three, I will clear you.

Honk!

“The whole point to this weekend was to talk about the wedding. We haven’t even gone over anything.”

Landon’s voice filters through the living room, and I follow it to the front door.

“Your mother forgot about her doctor’s appointment,” Mr. Wangford says.

“On a Saturday?”

“It’s a weekend clinic.”

Honk!

I tentatively turn the corner to where Landon and his dad are. Mr. Wangford has his keys in his hand, hanging out on the porch while Landon hovers in the open doorway. All I can see of Landon is the back of his beet red neck, so I sidle up and lightly tug on his arms. He uncrosses them and takes my hand.

“Why would she schedule a doctor’s appointment this weekend? Meeting Liz was her idea.”

“I know…she just wasn’t expecting an engagement—”

HonkHonk!

My eyes swivel to Mrs. Wangford in the driveway, throwing her hands in the air at her husband. A guilty weight burrows deep into the pit of my stomach.

Mr. Wangford sighs, gaze drifting to me, then back to Landon. “You had to leave early anyway, right? Head back to work. And long trips probably aren’t good for the baby.”

Landon stiffens. “She’s not pregnant, Dad.” His hand shakes in mine, and I lean in to him, hoping that my proximity alone will help comfort him, because no way am I opening my mouth. That’s probably what made Mrs. Wangford slam her butt in the car in the first place.

“You can stay for a bit if you want.” Mr. Wangford forces a smile. “Show Elizabeth the house.”

“Right.”

Landon’s arm wraps around my waist, still keeping my hand tucked in his. I squeeze it twice and he squeezes back…but it takes him a minute.

HonkHonkHonk!

Mr. Wangford doesn’t turn. “We’ll see you at Christmas, ’kay, kid?”

Landon’s jaw flexes. “Got it.”

Mr. Wangford’s gaze goes to me, and his smile doesn’t look as forced. “Nice to meet you, Elizabeth Ann.”

Mustering up every ounce of courage I have, I reach out and hug my future father-in-law. “You too,” I say, hoping my voice sounds light and happy and also sorry for my drunken behavior. Mr. Wangford jerks a tiny bit with surprise, but gives me an awkward pat on the back. Then he gets in the driver’s seat and they take off to Mrs. Wangford’s “appointment.”

Landon drops my hand and slams the front door shut, knocking down an extra set of keys on the wall hook. He starts toward the stairs while I pick up the keys and put them back in place.

He’s not saying anything, but I’m assuming we’re going to pack our stuff and go. The house feels empty. Just us and Buster. Who knows where Elle is. I try to keep up, my guilt increasing with every step.

Why oh why did I drink last night? I could’ve sucked it up and dealt with the ex-girlfriend talk. Or maybe I overreacted. I mean, it’s natural for moms to talk about uncomfortable things, right? Oh hell, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, because I completely botched this meet and greet. I wonder if Landon will even talk to me on the way back.

Shit, this was my chance to prove I’m old enough to get married, that I’m excited about being a member of their family, that I’m cute and perfect for their son and not this lippy, bossy ditz who can’t hold her liquor.

I slam my butt down on the middle step of the second staircase. “Landon, I’m so sorry. I should’ve shoved that wine away. Or drank water. Or duct-taped my mouth shut. Or—”

“Wait, you think I’m mad at you?” Landon stops, turns around, and grins. “That’s damn cute.”

“You’re not?”

He sits on the step above me. “I’m mad at them.”

“But I—”

“You’re here.” He kisses my cheek. “Even though they’ve treated you like hell, you’re still here.”

“I want them to like me.”

“I do, too.”

“I want to like them.”

“I don’t give a shit if you like them.”

“They’re your family.”

“Don’t remind me.” He sighs and rests his head on the railing. “It’s days like this I wish I could choose my family.”

“You chose me.” I offer up a cheesy grin. He laughs and kisses it away.

“I still want to show you something before we go.”

“Okay.”

He takes my hand, and I trip up a couple of stairs before I get my bearings. He’s laughing, and I’m scolding him for making fun of me, but at least he seems in a better mood.

Buster must’ve heard my very graceful promenade, because he barrels from the guest room and whacks us both with his bulky tail as Landon pulls me into a bedroom at the end of the hall. He better keep his distance, because I am not going to be his new hump pillow.

“My old room,” he says. It’s now the makings of an office…I think. There’s a desk, a computer, and a bookshelf, not much else.

He opens the closet and ducks inside. I hear him slump on the floor.

“There’s room for two!” he shouts, and I nudge the door wider. The closet is barely a walk-in, but I slip inside and sit on the floor across from Landon. Buster’s tail smacks the side of my head, and I shove his large puppy butt away as he settles between us. Landon slides a box out from behind him with one hand and rubs Buster’s belly with the other.

“This stuff used to cover my walls,” he says, handing me a large poster. I bat Buster’s paw off my arm and unroll the long sheath of glossy paper.