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Cody blinked. “What?”

“Get out. Now.”

She’d said it so coldly he stared at her. “Britt?”

“That’s Roth to you. Get the hell out, Coder. Go home and play with your damned toys.”

He gave his head a shake, wondering what he’d missed. He’d never seen her this angry, and he’d seen her pretty mad. But he had no idea why. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” She was yelling now. “Out! Now! Or I swear I’ll call my dad and tell him to bring his shotgun!”

She started to get up, struggling, and he knew she meant it. And would probably hurt herself trying. He got up and took a step toward her, saying “Britt, stop. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Stay away from me. Far away,” she said through clenched teeth, stopping him in his tracks. “Just. Get. Out.”

Nothing else made sense, but he was as certain as he’d been of anything that she meant it. Whatever had set her off, she needed to calm down before she really did hurt herself. So he held up his hands, palms out, and backed up.

“Okay, okay. I don’t know what’s going on but settle down.”

“You blind, oblivious idiot!”

He had been called that before. Times when he’d missed something, some people thing, that should have been obvious. Apparently this was one of those times.

So he did the only thing he could think of to do. He left.

And as he went, he spent every step trying to figure out what he’d done or said that had put tears in the redoubtable Britt Roth’s eyes.

Chapter Thirty-Three

“Don’t you get it? He was only here, only helping me because he felt guilty!”

“But you said Chance proved it wasn’t his fault,” her father said, clearly puzzled. Why were men so stupid?

“That doesn’t matter, he thought it was and that was the only reason he was helping so much.”

Dad blinked. “Of course it matters.”

She turned to her mother, who had remained oddly silent since she’d hit them with the depth of Cody’s betrayal. Pretending to genuinely care, even be attracted to her, when in fact he’d simply been driven by guilt. She remembered when she’d thought the incredible turnaround in their feelings couldn’t be simply because she’d gotten hurt. And it hadn’t been. She’d been missing one important fact. The drone, and him feeling guilty about it.

And she felt like an utter fool for falling for it.

“Mom, will you explain to him? I can’t deal with another thickheaded male.”

“A little respect for your father,” her mother answered, her tone so mild Britt went on alert. She listened warily as Mom looked at Dad and said, “Rob, you might want to leave this to me.”

He agreed gratefully, and walked out muttering, “Women,” not quite under his breath.

“Mom,” she began, recognizing all too well the expression on her mother’s face. Angela Roth was a loving mother, but she was no pushover. She chose carefully when to take a stand, and then she stood until she prevailed.

She had that look on her face now.

“Do you really believe Cody went to all this trouble, built and installed this com system, called in a big favor, in fact put his entire life on hold to help us, help you, all because he felt guilty?”

“You didn’t see the relief on his face when Chance sent him that picture,” Britt said.

“I’m not denying that he’d be relieved. I’m questioning if you really believe that was his sole motivation. Besides, if he did feel guilty, wasn’t going out in that storm and finding you, getting you safely home, enough payback?”

“But he only went looking up there because he did think it was his fault, that his stupid drone had caused it.”