Undercover Engagement (5 page)

W
e sneaked into the house through the garage door and stashed Dad’s jacket under a couple of others on the peg. Jason was seriously quiet and if his hand wasn’t on the small of my back, giving me thrills, I wouldn’t have known he followed me at all.

The down-home smell of a roast in the crock pot greeted us in the kitchen, as did Dad and three of his favorite guns. He had them laid out on the kitchen table along with all his cleaning supplies. I rolled my eyes.

Mom came in with an arm load of grocery bags. “Let me get those for you,” Jason said as he took the bags from Mom.

“Thank you, Jason.” She harrumphed in Dad’s direction. “Alyssa, could you help me make a salad?”

“Sure.” I washed my hands in the kitchen sink. Jason leaned in next to me to scrub his.

“T.C.S.,” he said in my ear.

“G.L.B.,” I said back.

“G.L.B?”

“Good luck, Buck-o.”

He gave me a half smile before approaching my dad. “Sir, I wondered if I might have a moment of your time?”

Good job, Jason; polite is always good with Dad.

Dad polished away at the barrel of his favorite shotgun. “I’d love to son, but as you can see I still have two guns left to clean before dinner.”

Avoidance – Dad’s first line of defense.

“I could help you with that.” Jason sat down across from my dad.

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you. Why don’t you just help the girls with the salad?” Dad stared down the barrel as he ran an oiled cloth inside.

“It’s no trouble at all, sir.” Jason grabbed the handgun before Dad could offer any more suggestions.

Mom and I watched, slack jawed, as he took the whole thing apart, cleaned it, and put it back together in under five minutes – military style. He did the same thing with the semi-automatic.

Way to T.C.S. Jason!

“How long before dinner, Mrs. Sanders?” he asked sweetly.

“I’d say you’ve got a good half hour.” Mom blinked, trying to catch up to Jason’s gun slinger techniques.

“Sir?”

Dad didn’t answer so much as he grumbled his way to his feet. For the first time in my dating life, my father was outgunned.

“I’ll wait for you out front.” Jason walked confidently to the battlefield, no doubt ready to seize the high ground.

Dad looked hard at me. I nodded and went back to chopping veggies. I had to bite my cheek when I heard him in the mud room.

“What the heck is all over my jacket?”

So much for him not noticing. Mom threw me her I-know-it-was-you look. I just shook my head. The next few minutes could go either way. I glanced at the table to make sure all three guns were still there. Had one been missing, I don’t think I could have guessed if it was Dad or Jason who took it.

W
hatever Jason said seemed to work. They weren’t exactly bosom buddies, but the tension between the two men had significantly diminished when they came back inside. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief knowing I wouldn’t have to spend the rest of the night trying to keep them happy while keeping them apart.

Despite her busy day, Mom had somehow whipped up a Death by Chocolate Trifle for dessert. We were slowly making our way through it after a hearty meal of roast and potatoes.

“How’s the children's Sunday school going?” Mom asked.

I gulped down a mouthful. “It’s going well. We have a couple teachers who are ready to be released; one has been teaching for six years.”

“What about that boy you were having a hard time with?”

“Cameron?” I smiled. “We found a new teacher for his class about a month ago. She has a degree in developmental education, but stays home with her kids. She’s done wonders with him. I think we’ll move her up when the class advances in January.”

“I’m so glad you decided to attend a family church.” Mom patted my hand.

“Me, too.” I took another small, savory bite. A few months before I met Jason, I’d decided I had had enough of the singles’ scene. I was on the older end of the age range that usually attended and tired of buying bridal shower gifts for younger girls.

Listening to pages turn during church meetings in the singles’ parish had always left me feeling lonely.  My first Sunday in the family church, the constant shuffling and shifting from the children helped me feel at home. Even though I sat alone, I didn’t feel lonely there. On my third week, the preacher called me in and asked me to head up the children’s organization. Even though I felt overwhelmed, I knew it was right.

My first Sunday conducting the opening meeting where we learned children's songs and prayed, I fell in love with the kids. How could I not love them as they sang songs about the Savior and bore simple testimonies of gospel truths?

“Do you go to a singles' congregation, Jason?” Mom asked.

“No. I spend most Sundays at Alyssa's church.” Jason gave me a conspirator’s wink. “Have I told you this is delicious?” He pointed his fork at his almost empty plate.

“Is that your way of asking for fourths?” Mom smiled.

Jason leaned back, patting his completely flat stomach. “I’d better not.”

“I’ll just put the leftovers in the fridge.” Mom grabbed the trifle bowl on her way out. I picked up a couple of plates and followed her into the kitchen. Dad had been genuinely nice during dinner, so I didn’t feel too bad about leaving the boys alone. Mom scraped the dinner dishes into a bucket for the chickens.

“Jason’s a nice guy.” She giggled. “He’s tough too. I loved the look on your dad’s face when he cleaned that gun. Did you know he could do that?”

I laughed. “Jason is full of surprises.”

“How well do you know him?” Her tone stayed light, but I knew from eavesdropping earlier, that there was real concern wrapped in the question.

If she had asked me that two days ago, I would have told her that I felt like I’d known him forever and that he was an open book. Today? Today I felt like we were starting over. Not in every aspect of our relationship. Our chemistry was still there. Even though he’d been under cover, he must have let his façade drop when it was just the two of us because I hadn’t seen many changes in
us
. However, I was noticing new things. Like the gun cleaning show – that was pretty cool. I had peeked in the guest room – talk about military precision. I think he remade the bed when he unpacked because my mom had never had perfect corners on the blankets. She liked to keep the covers loose and let them hang over the edge to display her stitchery.

I couldn’t explain all that to my mom, though. “It feels like I learn something new about him every day.” I put the milk in the fridge. “But, they aren’t bad things, per se, he just has a lot of layers.” I mentally patted myself on the back for that one – it was a Jason worthy answer – vague, yet calming.

Dad walked in with a stack of dessert dishes. “Alyssa, your boyfriend wants a shower, will you tell him where to go?”

I ignored Dad's jibe. “Oh, yeah.” I laughed. “Millie sneezed on him.”

“I always liked that horse.” Dad patted my shoulder. I headed back to the dining room.

Dad called after me, “Was he wearing my jacket?”

I kept walking like I hadn’t heard him.

Mom sighed. “I’ll take a look at it, dear.”

I
hate nine o’clock church. It's too early on a Sunday to feel like I've lounged in bed. Of course, I hate three o’clock church too because you spend the whole day waiting for church to start. Really, eleven o’clock church is the only acceptable schedule. My parents had the early option. I rolled over when my alarm went off at seven and nearly jumped out of my skin when my hand hit Jason’s on the snooze button.

Groan
. “Would you stop sneaking up on me?”

He grinned like a cat. “I wanted to make sure you got up on time.”

I stayed firmly pressed against my pillow. My hair had limitations. It looked lovely splayed across the pillow; but if I sat up – so would my hair.

“All right, I’m up.”

He kissed my forehead. “I’m going out with your dad to do chores.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Good luck with that.”

“T.C.S. – Sweets.” He winked as he shut the door behind him. I let out a sigh of relief. Sitting up I ran my hand through my hair. That was close. I was beginning to hate spy feet.

 Church went as smoothly as could be expected. I had multiple ex-youth leaders checking for a ring. There were only a few awkward moments, but overall, I couldn’t complain.

Matt and his family came over that afternoon for a late lunch. He and Jason hit it off. “You should bring this guy back for Thanksgiving – your team could use a little muscle.” Matt teased. It didn’t matter what team I played for in our annual sibling football game, my side always lost.

I flashed a warning look at Jason. “
If
he comes back, I’m invoking the substitution rule.”

“You’ll have to marry him first – it only applies to spouses.”

Insert awkward pause.

Thanks, Matt.

Jason jumped up off the couch, commanding attention. “I guess that’s as good of an opening as any.”

I looked frantically around the room. Mom and Dad were in the kitchen. Matt and Susan’s kids played in the front yard. Susan sat forward on the couch. I cringed. This was not part of Plan B.

“Jason.” My voice was full of a warning he didn’t take.

He took my hand. I heard Susan gasp. “Alyssa Eastman.” My heart stopped. He was not supposed to do this now! I’d kill him later, when there weren’t any witnesses. “Will you get me some more soda?”

Relief. Relax. Rebuttal.

“Jason Butler?” I batted my eyelashes. “Get it yourself.”

Matt cracked up and Susan hit him in the shoulder. “Hey, what’d I do?” he asked.

She glared. “Men.”

Jason tickled my ribs all the way into the kitchen. We burst through the door laughing and obviously interrupting a private conversation between my parents.    

“Hey,” I said.

Dad cleared his throat. Jason smiled. “We need to be getting back to the valley.”

“So soon?” Mom said. Her tone made me wonder if she was really sorry we were going. I gave her a what’s-your-problem look.

“I’m going to make sure I got everything out of my room,” I said.

“I’ll be just a minute.” Jason leaned against the counter. He had that T.C.S. look again.
Whatever
. After his almost proposal in the front room, I figured there wasn’t much more he could pull before we left the house.

Straightening the bed covers, I did a mental list
: clothes, check; shoes, check; make-up bag, check; ring...uh...ring
? I patted my empty pocket, sure I’d put it in there when I changed after church. I checked the make-up bag, the bathroom counter, the nightstand, and the desk.

No ring.

Panicked, I dropped to the floor, systematically running my hands across the shag carpet.

No ring.

Jason was going to kill me.
I
was going to kill me. That ring cost a fortune. Not to mention it was a symbol of Jason's love for me. Why, oh why, hadn't I kept better track of it?

The nightstand!

I pulled the whole thing away from the wall. No ring. I threw my suitcase on the bed. Pulling things out one at a time, I shook each item, then when the ring didn’t fall out, I threw it behind me.

“That’s the strangest way to pack I’ve ever seen,” Jason said from the doorway.

I slumped onto the bed and put my face in my hands. I had to tell him. If I didn’t tell him now, he’d find out sooner or later. Sooner was definitely better.

“I can’t find my ring.” I looked up into his crystal eyes and started to cry. “I’ve looked everywhere and I can’t find it. I’m so sorry, Jason. I didn’t mean to lose it.” I gulped in air.

Jason’s smile faded. He knelt in front of me, wiping my tears away with his thumb. “It’s okay, Sweets. I’ve got the ring right here.” He pulled the ring from his pocket.

Taking the ring, I sniffed. “But ... how did you get it?”

“I lifted it from your pocket on the way to the kitchen.” He was full of chagrin.

“Why?” I demanded. Now that my sadness washed away with relief, I was a bit peeved that he would pick-pocket me. It was a violation and, in a way, his actions left me wondering about him again. Who was he – really? I'd gone back and forth on this so much in the last two days I could have taken medication for emotional whiplash.

“T.C.S. I told your parents I wanted to propose to you and I showed them the ring. I apologized for waiting so long and acting so secretive. Your mom’s figured out my deep dark secret and loves me anyway.” He smiled. “Your dad, well, he doesn’t love me, but I think he respects me.”

I snorted.
That’s what you think.

“So, the last thing I need to do is get that ring back on your finger.”

I leaned away from him.

“I know you’re not ready to wear this in front of your family yet, but will you at least keep it?” He looked so humble.

Carefully placing the ring in the deepest corner of my front pocket in silence I gave him a non-committal shrug.

He sighed. “We’ll go over the plan for tomorrow in the car.”

“Okay.”

Yeah, tomorrow, the day I officially become an information thief and ruin my boss’s life – neat.