He really didn't. Everything he'd done was intentional. The grades so he could keep the scholarships he'd won. The business so he could set himself up financially for whatever came next. The hard work so that he could be someone bigger than who he'd been his whole life.

  Eli Lucas. Someone from nowhere.

  Nobody.

  Hanging out with frat boys and sorority girls who had life handed to them on a silver platter wasn't his scene.

  "We're not all like that," Alicia had said, but he'd known she was like that, at least. The diamond studs in her ears suggested it, as did the highlights in her hair, the very fancy manicure she was sporting, and, yes, those expensive shoes she was wearing.

  "I'm sure you're not," he'd said when he was sure she was. "But all that said, I've not had time to, and I quote, schmooze the Greek world, which includes rushing a frat. Not until now, and not until it had to do with my business, as you've already pointed out."

  "Yes, as I have," she'd sighed, reaching out for the folder he'd offered her.

  He'd gone on to explain things to her, to tell her about job opportunities for her sisters, to talk through the offerings the company had for their incoming pledges to get the help they'd need to boost the sorority's GPA.

  She'd listened, studying everything in his portfolio, quietly watching his spiel without offering any words.

  He'd been quite certain that this day was a bust. Just as he'd been getting ready to get up and get gone, she'd looked up at him... and smiled.

  "Not dirt poor anymore, are you?" she'd said.

  "Pardon?" he'd asked, not certain what she was getting at.

  "It's brilliant, actually," she'd said. "What you've done. What you're doing. Admirable. A man with a plan and all." She'd nodded. "We'll have about 120 pledges this fall, and I think tutoring for each of them will be an excellent requirement of their pledge period."

  Glory. He'd done the math in his head and was mentally pumping his fist in the air even as he'd calculated the profit. Take THAT in your girly clothes, Charlotte!

  "That'll cost you," he'd said with a shrug as if it was no big deal.

  "Won't cost me," she'd said. "Will cost them. But their daddies can afford it."

  No doubt. Her daddy, too, probably.

  But who cared? He was going to be rich, thanks to Phi Mu and this snooty woman in front of him.

  "When would you like it set up?" he'd asked, thinking that he'd hand it off to another tutor. "When are you getting the pledges in?"

  "Soon," she'd said. "What's the process look like?"

  "I'll have someone over to set it all up when it's convenient for you," he'd answered. "Study hours here at the house would be easy. Or on campus. Or whatever. I'll make sure whoever I send has a list of tutors and numbers."

  "I'd prefer it if you'd come by and handle it yourself, Mr. Lucas," she'd said.

  And he'd raised his eyebrows at this, wondering if she was questioning the validity of his business and the people he'd hired. "And why is that?"

  "Because you're cute," she'd said simply.

  He'd played it off as a silly, bubble-headed comment from a woman who certainly didn't mean anything real by it. He'd told her goodbye that day, giving her his word that he'd be the man to come back and get it all going.

  Before long, he'd come back. Over the next few months, he'd gotten the tutors all set up, gotten everything running smoothly, gotten paid... and gotten himself a girlfriend he wasn't all that sure he'd wanted, honestly.

  She'd done it effortlessly. The attention was flattering, and he'd been non-committal about it all.

  But he'd kept coming back.

  Because she was beautiful. Smart. Easy to be around. She took care of him in ways he hadn't even thought to want. And it was a good feeling, being admired for who he was.

  And quite honestly, it made him feel like a real self-made man, coming from where he did, having a woman with her background standing by him.

  Shallow. Oh, yeah. But it was the truth.

  Charlotte got it. More than he wanted her to, honestly.

  "You're such a jerk," she said to him in his office, chiding in her voice even though he hadn't said anything about what he was really thinking.

  "Alicia knows it's not serious," he said, waving away her concerns. He'd made no promises, at least. Just reciprocated the affection she showed, showed up when she needed him in her life, and... well, that was it.

  She didn't want to be part of his business, his past back in his no-name town, or... well, much of what was going on with him. She just wanted him to be there for her.

  See? Not serious.

  "Eli..." There was chiding in Charlotte's tone.

  He hated that. Because it was convicting. And it suggested that Charlotte knew what he was really thinking. Which she did.

  "Why does it always have to be serious?" he asked.

  "Because," Charlotte said. "It just is."

  Probably. Alicia had been making large hints about what would happen now that they were no longer undergraduates. She was in law school, and what time she didn't spend there or in study or in meeting up with her sorority sisters to help plan the dozen weddings she was in, she spent micromanaging him and questioning what they were going to do.

  Apparently, they couldn't keep doing what they were doing, which was just hanging out and having a good time. She'd had no problem with it that last year of college, dragging him around like her prize, introducing him into a world he'd never known, and just keeping it low key and simple, all glitz and parties, nothing serious.

  It didn't seem to be enough now, though. Alicia was getting pretty snippy about it all, about how many weddings she had to be in and isn't this the perfect time of year to start planning a wedding, and, Eli, are you even listening to me --

  Snippy.

  She'd gotten pretty snippy about Charlotte lately, too.

  With that thought, he pushed back from his desk. "Speaking of serious," he said, reaching in his back pocket for his wallet, "the deal you worked out with the pregnancy centers was incredible."

  Incredible was an inadequate word for what she'd done when she'd booked up another ten commitments and hired out more tutors to take care of it. It had all been on her own initiative, too, like most things were that she did.

  She knew what he needed, what the business needed.

  "I worked it out with your sister-in-law," she said, grinning.

  "Your pastor's wife," he clarified.

  "Yours, too, you big dope," she added.

  His mind went to Sunday mornings, with Charlotte leaning over to where he was attempting to take notes on whatever dull sermon his brother, Craig, was preaching, and scrawling, "Wipe the drool off your chin, man. People are looking at you."

  Sundays were always good. And they always concluded with lunch together, just like they spent most days.

  He smiled at the thought.

  "Yeah," he said, "but you worked out the new contract. And it was great. They love you down there."

  They really did. All the women at the five pregnancy centers his sister-in-law, Hope, oversaw loved Charlotte. Hope loved Charlotte.

  Everyone loved Charlotte.

  "Well, maybe," she said.

  "I thought you needed a token of my appreciation," he said, pulling it out of his wallet with a flourish and handing it to her.

  She took it from his hand with a grin that only grew as she saw what it was. "Lloyd's Tacos. Fifty bucks. That's a lot of tacos, Eli. Thank you."

  "You're going to share, right?"

  "Of course," she said. "Where else would we go?"

  It was their go-to place. Eli had finally talked Alicia into going a few days ago, and she'd practically held her nose the entire meal, looking around at the dive. But the sour expression she'd had over the accommodations had been nothing compared to the look she'd given him as he'd told her he was getting a gift for Charlotte.

  For all the work she'd done, obviously.

  Alicia had argued her point that any woman would be irritated that her boyfriend was buying his female friend a gift, and when he'd told her that it was just Charlotte, she'd bitten back several words, then hissed, "Should've gotten her a gift card to get some new clothes because she needs them. Or a manicure. Because she needs that, too."

  "Alicia signed the card, too," he said, thinking about the argument that had erupted after all that.

  Charlotte smiled at the name, scrawled on later when Alicia felt bad and was trying to make it up to him.

  "She probably thought a pedicure would be a better gift," she murmured.

  Well. It was like Charlotte was psychic sometimes.

  "Maybe," Eli shrugged.

  "But I'll take tacos over pretty toes any day," she said. "Though I probably do need to step up my game for this weekend. My toe game, not my taco game."

  "Your taco game is already on point," Eli agreed.

  "That it is," she said.

  "What's going on this weekend?" he asked, settling back in at his desk.

  "Tyler has a big announcement," she said, smiling. "Told me to wear my best dress. He's getting the whole family together."

  "His, not yours," Eli murmured, knowing already that Charlotte's family was for all intents and purposes non-existent. Her dad had passed away when she was too young to even know him, and her mother had been distant long before Charlotte had moved out to go to college. About the only family she kept in consistent touch with were her grandparents, who were missionaries overseas, and her uncle, Mark, who worked for the mission board and was gone more often than he was stateside.

  "Yes, Tyler's," she said, nodding.

  "What's his big announcement?" Eli asked, thinking about Tyler, Charlotte's boyfriend, a guy who seemed too heavenly minded to be any earthly good a lot of the time, quite honestly. She'd met him a year ago at some missions conference they were both at, her for her Uncle Mark, and him, there to hear about the mission field. They'd connected over her stories about her grandparents and her uncle, and Tyler had been a consistent part of Charlotte's life ever since.

  Which was annoying to Eli, quite frankly. He couldn't say exactly why, other than the way Charlotte seemed to become a different person around him. With Tyler, she was all soft looks and soft words and gentleness. With Eli, she was her -- brash, honest, and tough.

  Why the difference? Because she was in love with Tyler. Or at least that's what Eli suspected.

  Charlotte confirmed the suspicion with a smile. "I'm not really sure what the announcement is," she said demurely. "But he's been talking about the future a lot. About a plan he has. A plan that he wants me to be in on."

  Plans. A future.

  That sounded like Alicia, which meant...

  "Do you think he's going to propose?" he asked, surprised to hear the shock in his voice.

  She shrugged. "I don't know... maybe."

  "Are you even a couple?"

  She frowned at him. "Yes, Eli," she said. "Because unlike you, Tyler has no problem committing."

  "I don't have a problem with committing," Eli said.

  He didn't. Or, at least, he didn't think he would. One day. Eventually. He couldn't imagine it with Alicia, but...

  "Oh, yeah, you do," Charlotte said. "I can tell by the look on your face."

  Well, maybe he was frowning a little. "You'd tell him yes, though?" he asked. "You'd marry Tyler?"

  And become some homely little submissive wife who changes all the good in you to please him? He didn't say that last part. He was surprised that he thought it, quite honestly.

  "This is a weird conversation to be having with you," she murmured. "It's a little personal, and I've already told you too much."

  "We talk about everything, though," he said.

  They did. Charlotte knew him better than anyone else did. His list of friends was... well, short. He didn't have time for friends with the business and all that it required of him. It was mainly just Charlotte.

  He was good with that. Why ruin a good thing? Charlotte was just about the best person he'd ever known, and they had the best relationship he'd ever had, honestly, so --

  "We do," she said. "But, you know, maybe that needs to change. Especially if Tyler..."

  If he wants to marry you.

  Who wouldn't?

  "You're going to tell him yes?" he asked again, more than a little hurt at the thought of anything changing with Charlotte, especially because she was thinking about... well, marriage. To Tyler. Stupid, irritating Tyler.

  She simply smiled.

  And for the first time in their long friendship, Eli found he didn't have any words for her.

  Charlotte

  She looked down at her glass and noted that her drink was vibrating, just slightly.

  No wonder. Her hands had been shaking all evening, her manicured, totally unnatural nails giving away the truth of how nervous she really was.

  Why the nerves? Was this the way all women felt right before getting a marriage proposal? Did all women have a moment (or three or four) of pure panic, even as they were looking at the most perfect, godly, handsome guy, even as he was making a gesture for everyone to quiet down because he was ready to make his big announcement?

  She wasn't sure, but her stomach had been tied in knots all evening. Tyler's whispered reassurances that he was so glad she was here, that she looked beautiful, that she should wear a dress more often -- well, none of anything he said had made her feel any better. She'd even caught herself nearly saying "really?" at some of the more critical things, like when she loaded up too much food on her plate, when she laughed a little too loudly at one of his uncle's jokes, and when he told her she shouldn't bite her nails because they looked so nice.

  He was nervous, too, though. Surely. They were both nervous because this was a big night. That's all it was.

  Because he'd never been anything but perfect since the day she met him. The day she'd known that God had a plan for her life and that her future was going to be amazing.

  Even as her hands shook, she thought back to that day a year ago.

  It had been a Saturday she'd been irritated to give up, if she could remember correctly.

  "Lottie," her Uncle Mark had said on the phone back then, "you've gotta help me out. The college kids I had signed up to help out with our Middle East table at this missions fair totally and completely begged off." A long pause as he'd let out an irritated breath. "You're part of the flakiest generation ever born, you know?"

  "Likely," she'd murmured, thinking that she wasn't flaky... but she sure didn't want to get up at the crack of dawn to man a table that no one in their right mind would stop by anyway.

  These missions fairs were held at collegiate Christian conferences in their area, where students came to hear about opportunities to serve, to listen to sermons about Christ's call to the nations, and to spend time with other students who were considering a lifetime of mission service themselves. All the mission board's regions had their own tables set up for down time, hoping to snag the ears and attention of students so that they could highlight needs in their part of the world and encourage them to think about their place in God's great plan.

  The East Asia table had awesome pictures of the Great Wall and even better stories about backpacking through Mongolia. Exciting stuff. South America had the corner on the Amazon and all the Spanish speaking church plants there as well. Thrilling, actually. Sub-saharan Africa had huge cardboard cutouts of elephants -- elephants! -- and video of Masai believers worshiping. Amazing, quite frankly.

  And then, there was the Middle East.

  It's the desert. It's hot. The languages are hard to learn. There aren't many converts. Lots of terrorists, you know. And people get killed here all the time, simply for having faith in Christ, much less for sharing it.

  So, do you want to be a missionary to the Middle East?

  Yeah, Uncle Mark rarely had any takers at these events.

  "Why do you even need college students to man the table?" she'd asked. "You can do it. You're stateside right now."

  He had been. Mark worked personnel for the board, but he spent most of his time overseas. Most of that time was spent in the Middle East, where he and Charlotte's father had grown up, sons of lifetime missionaries to Egypt who were still serving, well past the age of retirement.

  But he'd been home. Which meant there was no need for her to go and spend a Saturday at a table that no one would stop at and --