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He didn’t know what it meant. Didn’t know anything beyond the feel of her in his arms.

And right now he, who always wanted to know everything about whatever he was doing, didn’t care.

Chapter Thirty

Britt smothered a sigh as he—to her disappointment—put her down ever so gently on the couch. “So you can lie down without having to move somewhere else,” he explained, although she hadn’t asked. And she could see that being necessary; the traveling, the moving, the careful removal and replacement of the casts, had all jangled the nerves in the injured areas, and the painkillers the doctor had given her in the office had been—at her request—mild enough that they’d only taken the edge off.

Cody straightened, and she saw him look around.

“A bit bare, after their house, isn’t it?” she said, a little awkwardly.

“Maybe,” he said, scanning the great room into the kitchen. “But I like it. It feels open, efficient, clean.” His gaze shot back to her and he said quickly, “Not saying your folks’ house isn’t clean, just—”

She laughed. “I know what you meant. Not clean in the sense of too much stuff.”

“Exactly,” he said, sounding relieved.

“Is your…what does your mom call it? Your lair? Is it like my parents’ house, or like this?”

He started to shrug, then visibly stopped himself. “A little of both. I’ve got a lot of gear in there, but it’s all organized and used.”

“What about where you live?”

He gave her a crooked smile she found…charming. A word that kept popping into her head, despite her shock at it being in conjunction with Cody. “Some would say that is where I live. And they’d probably be right.”

“You know what I mean,” she said, unable to explain even to herself this sudden curiosity about the details of how he lived.

And suddenly he wasn’t smiling. His eyes, those vivid light green eyes that were exactly like his father’s, went somehow intense. As did his voice. “You trying to ask about my bedroom, Roth?”

Suddenly there it was, right there in the room, whatever had been so unexpectedly, shockingly brewing between them. And his words, his voice, that he’d slipped back into calling her Roth, all seemed to underline it. Something had changed, and a voice in the back of her mind was screaming something along the lines of “monumental.”

That he had gone there first surprised her though. She was supposed to be the bold one, the reckless one, as her parents had often lamented. Yet Cody had been the one with the nerve to face this.

Well, she couldn’t let him back her down. Wouldn’t. Start as you mean to go on, her father always said. And before the question of did she want this to go on could form in her mind, she’d already spoken.

“What if I am?” It sounded almost defiant. Which for some reason she didn’t understand, made him smile. A different sort of a smile than the charming one of a moment ago. A smile that seemed to heat her up in the same way that shocking question had.

“It’s a king-sized bed, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he said, in a voice that matched that smile.

And bold, reckless Britt Roth blushed at the images that brought on. She tried for her usual snappy retort. “Assume much, Rafferty?”

“I don’t assume anything. I have to have proof before I act.”

And that sounded almost like a warning. Was he talking about…them? What kicked to life between them whenever they touched? Because it had to happen to both of them, to be this strong. Didn’t it?

This was crazy. It was all crazy.

And then, in a perfectly ordinary voice, and as if she had every right to ask, he went on. “The rest of my place is more like this. Kitchen’s small, but efficient and orderly. But in the bedroom, I admit, I stack things. Books, my tablet, tech diagrams, on the nightstand. And I tend to toss things when I’m done with them.” He shrugged then. “Tunnel vision, my mom calls it. That sometimes I get so focused on something in my head I look past what’s right in front of me. And—” the charming smile was back “—I have a serious caramel addiction. The basic ones, the little squares. And those wrappers tend to…float.”

The thought of Cody the Coder with a caramel habit nearly made her laugh. It did make her smile, widely. And going from that high-intensity, heart-racing tension to this silliness left her nearly breathless.

Then he moved, leaning down, toward her, and stole the rest of her breath away. Closer, closer, his gaze fixed on her mouth.

He was going to kiss her.

God help her, she wanted him to kiss her. She was sitting here with her wrist in a splint and her ankle in a horrendously thick and heavy boot, and all she could think about was that he was going to kiss her, and she wanted it, more than she even wanted to be free of those restraints. So much that the dull ache of her ankle faded into the background, and she lifted her head to meet him.

He jerked back. She had split second to feel hurt that he’d recoiled. Then she heard her front door swing open and realized he must have heard steps on the porch. Cody straightened abruptly as her mother breezed into the room, carrying several refrigerator containers of food.