large stockpot of water. He adds bacon to the skillet and steps over to the sink to wash his hands.
“You’re not going to tell me?”
He dries his hands on a towel. “Nope.”
He steps in front of me and lifts me onto the counter by my waist. He steps between my legs and moves in for a kiss as his arms encircle me. I wind my arms around his neck and bring him in closer.
“Mmmm,” he intones. “Counters. I like this.” He slides a hand under my blouse and up my back as he places light kisses across my cheek to behind my ear. His tongue lingers right behind my earlobe.
My body shudders and melts into him. “Ah, J.” I run my fingers through his hair.
He whispers, “I would love to take you right here.”
The idea of it sends waves of pleasure through me.
He breaks away and steps back. I am near forming a pout until he turns off the burners. He sweeps me off the counter and carries me to his room.
Jason jumps in his seat and drops his fork twined with spaghetti alla carbonara. His hand jerks to his cargo pocket, taking out his phone. He glances at the screen and passes it to me. “Arissa.”
I take it. “Riss? What’s going on?”
“We were wondering if you wanted to go dress shopping this weekend.”
“Hang on a sec.” I cover the mouthpiece with my hand. “Riss and Mom want to go dress shopping this weekend.”
“That sounds good to me.”
“We were going to look for apartments, remember?”
“Oh, right.” He pauses. “What about dress shopping Friday after work? We can drive up Saturday morning.”
I bring the phone back up to my face. “Sure, Riss. Is after work Friday okay?”
“Okay, we’ll make some appointments.”
“See you.” I pass the phone back to Jason. “Prepare yourself.”
He pockets the phone. “We need to get you a phone.”
“Why? I’ve done fine without a cell phone.”
“You might change your mind once we’re married, in our own place, and I’m not around for you to use mine.” He smirks.
“I might. Until I change my mind, I think we can use all the money I’ve saved for the wedding and getting an apartment.”
He shakes his head as he chews.
“What?”
He swallows. “Dad had money stashed away in a trust account on top of his life insurance. Mom is giving me some.”
My jaw drops. He swoops in for a kiss. I return it eagerly, then break away.
“Were you going to tell me this at all?” I ask, upset that he kept a secret.
“We just found out today. It’s enough for Mom to pay off the house.”
So it wasn’t a secret, but the thought of Alana giving away her money is uncomfortable when she works so hard to take care of everyone else. “Then she should do that.” I push my food absently around my plate with my fork.
“That’s what I told her. She’s insistent on giving me some of it.”
“Your mom is something else.”
“We can use some for the wedding and the apartment until you find work. If you decide to go to school, you’ll have tuition. The rest we won’t touch unless necessary.”
“If I go to school, I’ll look for a scholarship or something. I can’t use your money.”
“Parker, it’s going to be our money.”
Ours. His and mine. It’s a difficult concept to get used to.
We clean up the food and dishes before settling in the TV room and our shortened stack of magazines.
We go through two magazines after dinner, tearing ideas out as we see them and adding them to the organizer Arissa made for us. She started it with the magazines I gave her Monday and presented it to me last night.
After we set the magazines aside, we check out apartments around UCLA on Jason’s laptop and make a list. “I’ll call them tomorrow and check on seeing some of them Saturday,” he says, shutting down the laptop.
“You’re the best.” I kiss him on the cheek.
He gives me his crooked grin and pulls me in for a longer, passion-filled kiss.
“I should get you home,” he says with a sigh, releasing me from his embrace.
“Hey,” I say, stroking his jaw. “We’re moving forward. Pretty soon you won’t have to take me home. We’ll be home together.”
His crooked grin morphs into an infectious bright smile.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
I climb into the car and Jason closes the door. He digs into his pocket before getting in. He takes my hand, slips my engagement ring on, and entwines our fingers.
“You didn’t tell me you were picking