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But that hasn't stopped me from moving every damn thing I own into her condo.

The little blue box burning a hole in my pocket can wait.

For now.

Because before I ask Amanda Perkins to marry me, I want everything else settled.

I want her safe.

Happy.

Secure.

And preferably stuck with me forever.

Which is exactly why I've spent the entire day hauling boxes.

I set the last container of toiletries down in her bathroom and straighten up.

Amanda stands in the doorway with her hands on her hips.

She was wearing one of my old T-shirts when we started, but stripped that off and is now in just a sports bra and the tiniest pair of shorts I have ever seen.

She’s got nothing underneath them either.

Which should be illegal.

“Why'd you bring so much stuff to the storage facility?” she asks.

I grin.

“Cause I told you, your place is bigger, but not big enough.”

She snorts.

“My place is marginally bigger than yours.”

“Yeah, but I also know you love this little one square mile town of Hoboken.”

“Mm, it does have its perks,” she says and bites her lower lip in that way she has that drives me wild.

I walk over and tug her against me.

“But still, we’re gonna need more room eventually, Rusty.”

Her expression softens.

“Yeah, but real estate is nuts around here.”

She worries her lower lip.

“And I don’t think I want to commute from the suburbs right now.”

“Sweetheart, I ain’t talking about the suburbs.”

Her eyebrows rise.

“What then?”