“Oh please. I bet you’re just aching to tear this uniform off me.” I shake my bust at him.

He tickles my sides before helping me off the car. After taking his phone back he helps me into the passenger seat, kissing me while I sit.

“Where are we going?” I ask him, keeping hold of his T-shirt so he doesn’t move away from my mouth.

“Home, then a surprise.”

I pout, and he just nips at my bottom lip and backs up to shut the door. He thinks he’s won, but I really don’t mind surprises. If I really wanted to know, I’d bet another honeymoon that I’d get it out of him.

—

Landon’s covered in white. Like the Tide commercial white. He’s hatless, his dark hair perfectly messy. His tan arms sneak from a crisp short-sleeved button-down. Muscles ripple as he drives, manly hands gripping the steering wheel, and he smells yummy. Like toast actually, but spiced toast. I have to smack my lips together because my mouth feels incredibly moist.

My eyes drift over his forearm—which is probably the best muscle there is. I have a thing for forearms. Something about the way Landon’s muscles are so prominent when he’s hovering over me, holding himself up on those bad boys and giving me a hard pounding. Things flutter in the lady bits and I have to blink and focus on somewhere not his forearms, but my horny brain goes straight to his pants. I’ve never ever seen him in white pants, and now I don’t ever want to see him in anything else. If he’s trying to win the bet, kudos to him. We haven’t been on a date in forever, and I internally fist-pump the air because I finally feel like we’re crawling out of our norm.

I smooth out the white fabric of the dress I’m being forced to wear, wondering if I’m causing the same sort of effect on him that he is on me. I’d adjust the ladies to make sure they’re more bouncy, but jamming my hand down my bra and lifting the suckers probably isn’t that hot.

Adjusting again, I accidentally knock my head on the rearview mirror and Landon reaches over to fix it with a laugh. But seriously, I don’t wear dresses. I own three skirts, and I guess Theresa decided those weren’t good enough options for what Landon has planned, so she bought me this. It’s cute—albeit uncomfortable—but I have an inkling he’s taking me to some sort of white party. And I’m so not a clubber.

To dry out the lady parts and help out the nervous butterflies, I crank up the music and start belting it out.

“I knew I loved you before I met you!” I sing into the tire pressure gauge. “I think I dreamed of you with pies.”

Landon snorts and shakes his head at the windshield. He reaches for the iPod to change the song, but I bat his hand away.

“You stop that. Savage Garden is the shit.”

“You don’t even know the real words.” He makes a face as I sing the next lyric. “Stop torturing me!”

I evil laugh with the iPod, turning the volume up and dancing in my seat. My music preference stayed firmly in the late nineties, early two-thousands. Boy bands are the best thing to ever happen to my eardrums…and the worst to Landon’s.

After the final guitar strum I switch over to some *NSYNC while Landon continues to shake his head at me.

“Are we almost there?”

Landon answers with a grin, nodding out my side of the car. He pulls up to a club I’ve never set foot in, and from the line outside, it looks like I’m not going to tonight either.

“Um…” I raise an eyebrow while he throws the car in park. We’re the only ones in full white, so my brain is short on guesses about what we’re doing. “I think you should’ve used the GPS.”

“Ha. Ha.” He taps my nose with the car key. “Trust me.”

We get out, and I’m instantly grateful I put on flats. The asphalt is covered with gravel and early-autumn leaves crunching under our feet as Landon leads me straight to the bouncers.

I grab onto Landon’s biceps, tucking in close. I’m not sure what he has in mind since he knows I’m not the best clubber. I already feel out of place. And we’re only outside.

The bouncer looks as if he’s going to kill the next person who says something to him until he catches Landon’s eye and turns a one-eighty, grinning wide and fist-bumping my hubby-to-be.

“Congratulations, man,” he says. My cheeks feel hot under the lights in the entryway. My grip tightens on his arm. What is happening?

Landon says, “Thanks,” wiggles from my hold, and places a hand on the small of my back. “Ladies first.”

“I don’t think I want to,” I say with a laugh. Landon’s hand slides around my waist and pulls me close.

“I won’t leave your side, scaredy-cat.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He nudges me past the bouncer. I can hear the people in the line throw out some choice words when Landon opens the door.

A steady drumbeat thumps through my chest, my eyes adjust to the contrast of dark mixed with bright neon, and my nervous butterflies fly out behind me as I take in all our friends covered head-to-toe in bright paint. Cheers vibrate the walls and scare me back into Landon with a laugh.

He catches me and leans down to my ear. “You have Theresa to thank for this.”

I turn, my nose grazing the scruff on his cheek. “What exactly is ‘this’?”

“Engagement party.” He taps a kiss to my lips. I want to kiss him longer, but a hand curls around my wrist and yanks me away from my sexy-ass fiancé.

Sexy-ass. He does have a sexy ass. If only I could grab a handful while he’s pressing me against a wall.

“Freaking gorgeous!” Penny, Landon’s old roommate’s girlfriend, yells. I push away my naughty ass-grabbing fantasy and she pulls the diamond on my hand up to her face. She’s covered in bright yellow paint spatters, dotting her cheeks and down her neck. I sneak my hand away as politely as possible so she doesn’t get paint on my ring. But Theresa snags it next, and she’s painted in blue and pink. Suddenly I’m surrounded by all my girlfriends, laughing and showing off the rock.

“Oh!” Theresa says over the music and the high-pitched squealing. “You need to get painted.” She grabs my arm, and I wave bye to everyone. My white dress glows as bright as all the neon paint under the black lights, and even though there are about 150-plus people in here, I can spot Landon across the room, glowing like the Bat-Signal. So much for staying next to him all night.

“You are crazy, you know?” I tell her as she drags me through the crowd. “How did you get everyone here in one day?”

She tosses her brown curls over her shoulder. “We’ve been waiting for Landon to ask you for months. He finally got the balls to do it.”

Damn, I love my friends. Most people would tell me I’m crazy or we’re crazy or whatnot because of my age, but my friends go and throw a black-light paint party.

Probably going to get a different reaction from my parents.

Wait…

“Theresa?” I ask, stopping on the steps to the paint drums. “You didn’t post this on Facebook, did you?”

Her head tilts to the side, and she blinks but doesn’t answer.

“Because I haven’t told my mom yet,” I continue, “and she cannot find out from Facebook.”

She blinks again, eyes growing wider and wider, making my stomach more and more uneasy.

“O-of course not.” She fake smiles. “That would be a horrible thing.”

I go to smack her, but she dodges my swing and hops down the steps to the larger crowds, pulling her phone from her pocket.

“Be right back!” she shouts with a wave. I crumple a napkin at a nearby table and chuck it in her direction. The feeble thing lands about two feet in front of me.

“Nice throw, Beth Ann,” I hear over my shoulder. I turn around with a gut punch, knowing who it is because he’s the only one who calls me by my middle name. But Jace totally expects it, catching my wrist before it connects with his stomach. A wide grin splits on his bright-red painted face, his teeth glowing white like my dress, and globs of green in his brown hair. He pulls me in for a bear hug, lifting me off my feet and making me squeal over his shoulder.