Three weeks, that’s all it took for both of us to find jobs. Thank the great economy. And Knox’s SEAL buddy, who turns out to have a ton of connections.

He’s hooked Knox up with a contractor. He seems like a decent, straight-up guy. There’s so much work, the whole area is booming, and of course there’s not a thing Knox can’t build or fix. It’s a good line of work for him. If he likes it enough, he can apprentice and get his own contractor’s license one day.

And guess where I found work? That happy little beachy coffee shop. It’s the exact opposite of the dark, nasty place I used to drag my ass to five nights a week back in Chicago. It’s so friendly and casual. Everyone has a smile. No one’s in a rush. The place is quintessential California with sunshine every day.

By five weeks in, I feel like I’ve always lived on the California coast and would never want to be anywhere else. I work with a couple people around my age who make easy conversation and pass the hours with laughter. Next to us lives a quirky older woman who’s always outside working on her wildly productive garden. We’re the beneficiaries of all her excess, and I’m having fun experimenting with all sorts of ways to use Meyer lemons and zucchini squash.

Knox and I are both off by five. Some nights we head down to the beach with a few beers and sandwiches to watch the sun set over the ocean. Seats at the best dinner table in the world, Knox likes to say.

Tonight, though, he’s taking me out to dinner. Somewhere fancy, he won’t say where. I tell him he doesn’t need to do that. I’m just as happy at home with him. That way he can eat me for dessert.

But he insists. He wants to treat me right, take me out on the town.

So I wear a skimpy little sundress. It’s one of the few new things I’ve bought in California. I haven’t done a ton of shopping, since I do now have all my old clothes. Once I knew the debt was paid, I settled my last month’s rent back in Chicago and got a former roommate to ship out my things.

The crazy thing is, none of my old clothes work in my new life at all. Baggy, frumpy, my Chicago wardrobe is fit for long winters and hiding. I want to buy all new things, but I’m taking it slow, trying to select just a few things I love.

Like the dress I’m wearing. Knox hasn’t seen it yet. It’s the absolute, complete opposite of the kind of sacks I used to cover myself in in Chicago. It’s the anti-sack. The dress has spaghetti straps, a low-cut neckline showing a lot of cleavage, and a short hem that grazes my upper thighs. With heels, it’s scandalous. I never would have worn it in my old life. Now, I twirl in front of the mirror feeling like a sexy bombshell. Being with Knox has made me love my body.

I throw a light wrap over it for the night air. And so I can take it off at the restaurant and watch his eyes pop out of his head.

I’m baiting him. I admit it. I love how gently he takes care of me, how considerate and kind he is to me. But I also love the beast in him, the man who throws me down on the bed and fucks me so hard I scream and claw and sweat.

He meets me at the restaurant. He had something he had to pick up first. In a jacket, collared shirt and pants, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so cleaned up. You wouldn’t think the rough-and-tough military man I’ve fallen for could look so good all buttoned down, but man does he pull it off. We sit down together, order drinks, both of us smiling at each other in that slightly goofy way you can’t stop doing when you’re in love.

Then I take off my wrap. His tongue lolls down on the ground like a cartoon character. I trace the neckline with my fingers, like I’m doing it without thinking. This is fun. I could do this all night.

“Come here,” he growls, grasping my wrist. The restaurant is hopping and no one wonders at our leaving our table. We might be getting up to hit the small dancefloor. Or we might be heading out the side door.

He takes me into an alley and presses me against the building. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

I kiss him with all I’m worth, wrapping my hands around his huge shoulders. “Guess what I’m not wearing,” I whisper, naughty to the core. He slides his fingers up my thighs. When he finds me bare he swears.

Then he traps my wrists above my head. Gushing wet in an instant, I love the feel of his hand on me, this dominant man who’ll love me forever. I spread, wanting him inside, not caring if anyone sees us. A part of me is even turned on at the risky danger of getting caught.

“See what you’ve done to me,” he snarls, pants undone, fisting his cock in his hand. He’s gloriously hard, veins running down his length, all man. My mouth waters at the sight.

“Fuck me, Knox,” I plead, wanting it raw and nasty right against the wall.

“You want to get fucked?” he growls in my ear, bringing his hand underneath my ass. “You need it?”

“Yes,” I whine, dripping with arousal.

He slides in in one masterful stroke. My eyes roll back in my head as he starts to thrust, pounding me into the rough cement wall. He’s moving fast, fucking me like an animal, holding me right where he wants me. I feel so filled, possessed, and my orgasm starts welling up from deep within.

“You’ve got to keep quiet,” he reminds me as I start to cry out. Capturing my lips in a rough kiss, I scream into his mouth. I can feel him tensing, his speed increasing, the intensity so high I can barely keep standing.

“Cum for me,” he demands as he pistons into me. I come apart, creaming for him, trembling and cumming as he spurts hot and wild up into me deep. It feels so damn good, so satisfying, raw and real and—

He’s not wearing a condom. We both realize it at the same time, catching each other’s eye as our hearts still race.

“I didn’t mean—” he starts.

“I’m so glad you did. It feels so good.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I’m doing this all backwards.” He rests his forehead against the cement and pulls out. Taking a tissue from his pocket, he cleans me, then settles my dress back down again.

“Knox, don’t worry,” I don’t want this moment to be ruined. So we had wild unprotected sex against a wall. It’s not like we’ve just met. We’re crazy in love. “It felt so good. And the chances are—”

“I want you to get pregnant.” He looks at me with fierce intensity. “I want you to have my baby.”

“Wow!” My eyes nearly pop out of my head. I can’t believe we’re having this conversation here and now.

“Here, this was the errand I was running before dinner. I was going to treat you to anything you wanted tonight, then propose over dessert.”

He pulls a velvet box out of his jacket pocket. If I’d thought my eyes were popping out of my head earlier, I was wrong. The ring is sparkling and gorgeous and absolutely perfect.

“I can’t believe it!” My heart is racing and I can’t stop staring at the ring like it’s a shimmering unicorn suddenly dancing before me.

“Which part? The fact that I took you out back and fucked you senseless against a wall? Or that I want you to have my baby? Or that I’m asking you…” He bends down on one knee there in the alleyway. It’s not exactly filthy, but it’s not spotless either. “Will you marry me?” he asks with a crooked smile on his handsome face.

Tears spring to my eyes as I gasp, “Yes, of course, yes!”

“You’re young. I can wait if you’re not ready.”

“I’m ready.” I pull him up to standing and we’re in each other’s arms, kissing and hugging. The ring fits. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“You make me so happy,” he murmurs. “Happier than I ever thought I could be.”

“I never imagined.” That’s all I can manage right now. I’m so filled with gratitude and joy. But I guess we have a lifetime to find the right words, so it’s OK to be speechless at the moment.

“Come on, want to head out of this alley? I’ll buy you some dinner so we can have a PG-rated engagement story to tell our kids.”

I can’t stop laughing as we walk back in the restaurant, filtering our way back through the crowd to our table. “We’ll have to edit the story a lot.”

“Life is like that.” He smiles at me.

It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of, right there with me. Life as a whole might require some edits. But at this moment, there’s not a single thing I’d leave on the cutting floor.