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“I hope you’re right,” she said, an undertone in her voice he’d never heard before.

But then, he’d never heard Britt Roth say she hoped he was right before, either.

Chapter Twenty-One

It was the strangest feeling. Britt closed her eyes, trying to analyze it. Kept trying to assign another word to it. But only one fit.

Safe.

She felt safe. She was in Cody Rafferty’s arms, she was hurting in several places, one particularly badly—she had to admit he’d been right, riding with that foot and ankle dangling would have been hideous—but she still felt safe.

It made no sense to her. The pain had to be messing with her head. Or maybe she was just comparing it to Ghost. With that horse she had to be constantly on alert, aware and ready for the sideways jump at any moment.

Now she could just…relax.

Because she was safe. Cody would never drop her.

Cody the Coder.

God, her world had gone insane.

She’d let her head loll until it rested against his arm. The taut, strong muscle was warm beneath her undamaged cheek. An image floated up, of him coming out of his geeky lair, shirtless and with his jeans half-zipped, baring the arms that were holding her so carefully now, that broad chest that supported them, and the ridged abdomen she was braced against.

Was this Cody, the one she’d half-seriously thought must be an imposter, the real Cody? The Cody she never saw, but others did?

She wrestled with that for a while, glad of anything that would take her mind even a little bit off the throb of her ankle and the duller pain of her wrist. Duller, because he’d been ingenious enough to use what was at hand for a splint.

“Okay?” he asked. “I mean, I know you’re not, but—”

“I’m not worse,” she said, a little surprised that there’d been a touch of embarrassment in his voice.

“Good enough,” he said, and kept going. She could feel, in the shifting tension in his muscles, how hard he was working to be a human shock absorber for her. To make this descent as easy as possible, for her. He really had meant that declaration of truce. But then, she knew he wouldn’t kid about that. Because the only other time they’d declared a truce was when his whole life had been blown apart.

Selfishly, she hoped this wasn’t the same kind of event for her. That the split second when she had looked toward the sound rather than staying focused on the easily panicked horse beneath her hadn’t cost her everything.

At least Ghost wasn’t hurt. Although she was starting to have second thoughts about her being the foundation mare for her future plans. If she passed on her incredible athletic skill in the arena, great. But if she also passed on that incredible craziness outside it, not so great. How many people would think the constant risk of injuries like this would be worth the wins?

Right now, even she wasn’t sure she thought it was.

“Want to stop for a bit?”

She shifted her gaze at his words. “What?”

“You looked like you were feeling worse.”

“Oh. No, I…” She sighed. “I was just questioning my entire life plan,” she said sourly. “Or rather, basing it on a crazy horse.”

“I wouldn’t argue that.” His tone was so neutral she knew he’d worked at it.

“I didn’t think you would,” she said, trying for an even tone herself.

“But,” he said, “that’s not a decision to make now, when you’re hurting. You can’t think straight when you’re in pain like this.”

He was being so calm. So gentle. “You don’t have to be so nice. I’m not dying, you know.”

“This time,” he retorted, but still in that un-sharp voice.

And it was hard to argue when she knew he was right. This could have easily been much worse. If she had hit her head, she could easily be dead. Or to her mind worse, incapacitated. Physically, mentally, or both.