He put his container on his desk and leaned forward, snagging my hands in his. “Rose. You knew it wouldn’t make money at first. Especially in the winter. But come spring, I’m sure you’ll have more than enough business to keep you busy and afloat. Where’s this coming from?”

Tears burned my eyes. “I’m broke, Mason. The truth is, I scraped together the last of my money to buy you that pie and Neely Kate a few cupcakes. I’m twenty-five years old and I don’t have a penny to my name.”

He stood and pulled me into his arms, my cheek resting against his chest. “Sweetheart, you’re far from broke. You’re currently cash poor with no easily accessible liquid assets. There’s a difference.”

“It doesn’t feel like it at the moment. I can finally shop at the Piggly Wiggly now, but I can’t even go in there and buy something to make dinner.”

“Of course you can. I’ve been chipping in with grocery money.”

I pulled back and looked into his face. “No, you’ve been outright payin’ for the groceries.”

A soft smile lit up his face. “And I’ve been eating them too. Hell, I eat way more than you do. Why shouldn’t I be paying?”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. “I know. It’s just…”

His hand cupped my cheek and tilted my head up to look into his eyes. “I know how important it is for you to feel independent. Even though we’re together. And trust me, I love that you’re not a clinging, helpless woman.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping. “I’ve made no secret of the fact I want to marry you someday. I’m as sure of that as I am that Miss Mildred will be calling in a new neighborhood watch complaint on some pour soul within the next couple of days.” He grinned. “When we’re married, I hope you won’t insist on keeping our money separate.”

“No, of course not.” Honestly, I hadn’t considered it, but as soon as he said it I knew I would want to share everything with him, including money.

He paused, seeming to think through his next words before saying them. “You love me, right?”

“How can you even ask that? You know I do.”

“Do you plan on breaking up with me in the near future?”

I was about to lambast him, but I saw the teasing gleam in his eyes. I gave him an ornery grin and tilted my head. “I’m still weighing my options.”

He laughed. “Then I guess I need to step up my game.” He pressed his lips to mine, his kiss full of passion and fire, leaving me breathless and wanting. “Does that help sway you?”

“I forgot the question.” He laughed again, a rich, warm sound that filled me with happiness and contentment. “No, Mason. I have no current plans to break up with you.”

His grin lit up his eyes. “Keeping me on my toes. I always knew you were a smart woman.” But then his expression turned more serious. “I have no plans of going anywhere, and we both see marriage in our future. Why don’t we take a test drive, so to speak?”

My playfulness slipped away. “What does that mean?”

His arms tightened around me. “I’d like to open a joint bank account.”

“Why?”

“Then it’s our money. Not yours and mine.”

“But I don’t have any money to put in it.”

“You don’t right now. But you will this spring.” He sensed my hesitation and pushed on. “We can keep our separate checking accounts, but agree to put in, say…two thousand a month. Enough to pay the utilities, the groceries, eating out, and so on.”

I tried to pull loose from him, but he held me close. “I don’t know.”

“That’s all money we spend on us, right?” he asked.

“Well, yeah…”

“So we fund it every month. We’ll make the contributions based on percentages of the previous month’s gross income.”

“That means you’ll be funding it all.”

His eyes lit up. “This month. And probably for another month or so.” His grin turned wicked. “But soon the nursery and the landscaping company will be busting at the seams with business and you’ll be making twice as much as me. Then you’ll be the majority funder.”

I patted his chest and laughed. “So this is all part of some devious long-range scheme for you to live off me.”

“Dammit, you caught me.”

I knew he was teasing, and I also recognized this for what it was: his attempt to give me money without making me feel bad about it. It only made me love him more. “Okay.”

“Okay? Really?”

I tilted my head. “You’re very convincing. I can see why you placed third at state in debate in high school.”

A mock-serious look filled his eyes. “It was second.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. Sweet moments like this one made me believe that everything would work out. That J.R. Simmons would destroy his false blackmail charges against me. That Skeeter Malcolm would drop his claim on me as the Lady in Black. That Mason would never find out about my secret life and we’d get married and have kids and live at the farmhouse until we were ninety-five, spending our days on the front porch watching our great-grandkids play while we drank iced tea.

His hold on me tightened and one of his hands slid down to my butt. “You do get me stirred up.” He groaned as he moved his hand back up to my waist and leaned down to kiss me softly. “In a couple of months, we need a vacation. Just you and me. Alone.”