Jericho laughed, lips dragging across Atticus’s. “I do okay for myself, Freckles, but my name’s not Rockefeller.” Atticus’s mouth went desert dry. “But it could be Mulvaney.” Jericho’s whole body went rigid for a split second, then Jericho peered up at him. “Did…did you just propose to me, Freckles?” Atticus gave a stilted nod. “I think I did, yeah.”
