Chapter 31
I picked up a piece of Hawaiian-style pizza, took a huge bite, and chewed as I watched all the activity around me.
The U-Haul full of Code’s things had been unloaded a hell of a lot faster than I thought was possible without actual movers doing the job.
I meandered into the house and watched where Amber, Lachlan, Tyler and three other children, whose names I didn’t remember, were busy unwrapping dishes and putting them on the tile countertop.
“Move it or lose it,” Jase said from behind.
I stepped out of the way as Jase walked into the house with an armchair over his head.
He deposited it into the living room. It was actually very nice.
To tell the truth, I’d liked everything of Code’s that they’d pulled out of the U-Haul.
Except maybe his music selection. I applauded the man for having a turntable, just not having actual Weird Al Yankovich records.
I think so far, that had been the most surprising thing I had learned about him. I finished up my pizza and wiped my hands off with the paper towel I’d snagged, then went in search of the cheapskate, who refused to hire movers and instead paid his family in pizza, beer, and soft drinks.
“My God, this is clean, Son.”
I should have figured he’d be in the garage mooning over his Barracuda. He had the hood open and his dad and uncle were currently bent over, looking inside. According to Code, his dad knew nothing about cars, so it was kind of funny hearing the Ambassador talking about how clean it was.
"It's a 1970 Plymouth Barracuda," Code said, his voice carrying that particular tone men get when discussing vehicles they're irrationally attached to. "340 cubic inch V8, four-barrel carburetor."
"I have no idea what any of that means," Petros said cheerfully, "but it sounds impressive."
His brother Christos, Jase’s father, laughed and clapped his brother on the shoulder. "You’re the same as always, Petros. But at least you're trying."
"Kit!" Code's mother appeared in the doorway leading from the house to the garage, looking like she'd stepped out of a Southern Living magazine despite spending the last three hours helping unpack. "There you are. I need your opinion on something."
"Me?"
"Yes, you." Alice linked her arm through mine with practiced ease. "The boys are completely useless when it comes to arranging furniture, and I refuse to let Codell live in a bachelor cave now that he has a proper home."
I let her pull me back into the house, glancing over my shoulder to see Code watching us with an expression somewhere between amusement and alarm.
This was my second time meeting his mom, the first time was when Code and I had gone down and visited his parents in Charleston two months ago.
I thought a former ambassador and his wife would intimidate me, but they had immediately put me at ease, especially when Alice got out Code’s baby book and high school yearbooks.
"Your son has very nice furniture," I offered.
"Oh, I know. I helped him pick most of it out years ago." She guided me into the living room where Jase's armchair sat in the middle of the floor, looking lost. "But he never put any of it together properly. It all just sat in storage in Augusta while he lived on base like some kind of monk."
"Mother." Code had followed us, wiping his hands on a rag.
"Don't 'Mother' me, Codell Drakos. You had a beautiful set of furniture sitting in a storage unit for three years." She turned to me. "Can you imagine? I found out when I asked where he wanted us to ship things."
"I was deployed half that time."
"And the other half you could have rented a house." She patted his cheek. "But that's done now. You have a real home. In a town with actual neighbors and a downtown and everything."
I caught the look Code gave his mother—affection mixed with exasperation mixed with something softer. This was clearly an old argument, but Code didn’t mind, it was clear to see how much he loved his mom.
"The couch should go against that wall," I said, pointing. "It'll face the fireplace but still let you see the kitchen. And that armchair Jase brought in angles toward the TV."
Alice beamed. "Perfect. See, Codell? Kit has an eye for these things."
"Katherine's an actress. She spends half her life on sets. Of course, she knows how rooms should look."
"And you spent twenty years living in places that all looked exactly the same." Alice squeezed my arm. "I'm so glad he has you, dear. Someone needs to make sure he remembers what civilization looks like."
"Mom—"
"Oh hush. Go supervise your cousins before they break something." She waved him away. "Kit and I have work to do."
Code met my eyes, and I saw the silent apology there. I just grinned. His mother was terrifying in the best possible way.
"I like her," I said once we'd retreated to the den.
"She likes you too. Trust me, if she didn't, we wouldn't be arranging furniture. We'd be having sweet tea on the porch while she interrogated you about your intentions."
"Has she done that to someone before?"
Code shuddered. “Yes, and it was a bloodbath. A Southern polite bloodbath, but a bloodbath nonetheless. After that, I learned never to let Mom meet someone I was dating.”
“But—”
“But I knew she was going to love you, and it had nothing to do with you being Kit Lord. And I was right.”
“Kit?” Alice was calling for me from the living room.
“Duty calls,” I said, getting up from the loveseat.
“Don’t wear yourself out. I have plans for you tonight.”
I looked into those beautiful green eyes of his. “I was hoping you would.”
Alice, Jase’s mom Sharon, Bonnie, and I spent the next hour directing traffic.
Jase and Renzo hauled furniture. Bruno assembled Code's desk with military precision.
Christos and Petros organized the garage while debating tool placement with Code.
The kids formed an assembly line in the kitchen, unwrapping and washing dishes before the adults put them away.
It was chaos, but organized chaos. The kind families who actually liked each other could pull off.
"Kit!" Amber called from the kitchen. "How do you organize a kitchen? Like, what goes where?"
I abandoned Alice and headed to help. The counter was covered in dishes, glassware, pots, and pans—all clean, all high-quality, all still looking practically new.
"Did Code ever actually use any of this?" I picked up a sauté pan that didn't have a single scratch.
"Uncle Code eats MREs," Lachlan said solemnly. "Dad says it's because he doesn't know what real food is."
"That's not entirely true." Code appeared, reaching past me for a water bottle from the cooler. "I know what real food is. I just rarely have time to make it."
"Well, you've got time now." I handed him the sauté pan. "Where do you want this?"
He looked at the pan like he'd never seen it before. "I don't know. Where does it go?"
"Your kitchen, your call."
He looked over my shoulder. “Ma! I need your help.”
I was still laughing as Code opened the front door of his house and let us inside. “Your family is amazing.”
“They’re certifiable,” he said as he helped me out of my coat and placed my suitcase down next to the door.
“Your parents, they—”
Code slowly started pushing slowly toward the far wall. I saw the gleam in his eyes. “Code, what are you doing?”
“I don’t want to talk about my family anymore.”
“O-Okay.”
When he had me pressed up against the wall, he pushed my arms up over my head, and held them in one hand, then bent his head and slammed his mouth on mine. Everything started to spin. He was in a mood. One of his best moods, where tenderness and dominance warred and I was the grateful recipient.
His free hand slid down my side, gripped my hip, pulled me against him. I gasped into his mouth and he took advantage, deepening the kiss until I couldn't think, couldn't breathe, could only feel.
"Upstairs," he growled against my lips. "Now."
He released my wrists and I grabbed his shirt, pulling him toward the stairs. We made it halfway up before he pinned me against the wall again, his mouth on my neck, my collarbone, that spot behind my ear that made my knees weak.
"Code—"
"Say it again."
"What?"
"My name." His hands slid under my shirt. "I love hearing you say my name."
"Code." I threaded my fingers through his hair. "Bedroom. Please."
He lifted me and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He carried me the rest of the way up, kicking open the door to the master bedroom. The bed was already made—Alice's doing, no doubt—with crisp white sheets and a dark-blue comforter.
Code set me down gently, then stepped back. His eyes swept over me, dark with want but also something deeper. Something that made my chest tight.
"What?" I asked.
"Just looking at you." He moved closer, his hands framing my face. "In my house. In my bedroom. You're really here."
"I'm really here."
"Stay." His thumb traced my lower lip. "Not just tonight. Stay."
"I already told you I would."
"I mean permanently." His forehead touched mine. "Move in. Make this ours, not just mine."
My breath caught. "Code—"
"You're it for me, Katherine. This place could never be a home without you."
“I live in LA.”
“That’s fine. We’ll split our time between Jasper Creek and LA.”
I closed my eyes, savoring his words. Then pulled him down into a kiss that said everything I couldn't put into words yet. He responded immediately, hands sliding into my hair, body pressing against mine.
We undressed each other slowly this time, not the frantic urgency of before, but deliberately. Enjoying every slow moment. His shirt hit the floor. My jeans followed. Each piece of clothing revealed more skin, more scars, more truth.
When we were finally bare, he lifted me onto the bed and followed me down, settling between my thighs. His weight pressed me into the mattress, solid and real and right.
"I love you," he said, voice rough. Every. Single. Time. He said those words, they sank deeper into my soul, making me feel even more cherished than I had the day before.
My throat closed. "I love you too."
He kissed me then, slow and deep, his hands everywhere, learning every curve and dip and secret place that made me gasp. I arched into him, needing more, needing everything.
"Please," I whispered.
When he finally pushed inside me, we both groaned. He stilled, letting me adjust, his eyes locked on mine.
"Okay?" he asked.
"More than okay." I wrapped my legs around his hips. "Move."
He did. Slow at first, each thrust deliberate, watching my face, as if he were learning all over again what made my breath hitch and my nails dig into his shoulders. Then faster as I urged him on, deeper, until we were both gasping, chasing that edge together.
"Katherine," he groaned against my neck. "God, Katherine—"
"I'm close." My words came out broken. "Code, I'm—"
"Come for me." His hand slid between us, finding that perfect spot. "Let me feel you."
I shattered. Everything went white and bright and perfect. I heard myself cry out, felt him drive deeper, harder, then his own release as he buried his face in my neck and groaned my name.
We stayed like that for a long moment, both of us breathing hard, hearts pounding against each other.
Finally, he lifted his head and kissed me, soft and sweet. "Don't move."
He disappeared into the bathroom. I heard water running, then he came back with a warm washcloth, cleaning me gently before tossing it aside and pulling me against his chest.
I settled into his arms, my head on his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat slow.
I felt sleep beginning to take me over.
"Wait. Don’t go to sleep yet."
I kept my eyes closed. “If you want another round, you have to do all the work.”
He shifted, reaching over to the nightstand on his side. The drawer opened. "I was going to do this downstairs. Make it romantic with candles or some shit. But this feels right. Here. Now."
He pulled out a small velvet box.
My heart stopped.
"Katherine Lord." He opened the box. Inside was a ring—simple, elegant, a single diamond on a platinum band.
"I've spent twenty years analyzing threats and making tactical decisions, and I've never been more certain of anything than I am of this.
" His eyes met mine. "Marry me. Be my wife.
Build a life with me in this town with these crazy people.
Let me spend the rest of my life making you happy. "
I stared at the ring, then at him. This man who'd saved me, protected me, seen past every facade to the real person underneath. This man who'd given up his career for the right reasons, who loved his chaotic family fiercely, who made me feel safe and seen and cherished.
"Yes."
His eyes widened. "Yes?"
"Yes, you idiot." I laughed, tears spilling over. "Yes, I'll marry you."
He pulled me into a kiss that tasted like salt and joy and promises. When we finally broke apart, he slid the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly.
"How did you—"
"I asked Angelica for your ring size three months ago."
"Three months? Code, we were still—"
"I know." He grinned, looking younger and lighter than I'd ever seen him. "But I told you. I was certain. Plus, I called your Grandma Laurie yesterday, and she gave me her permission. I’ve already arranged for her to fly out here this coming weekend."
I kissed him again, deep and slow, my hand with the ring resting on his chest. "I love you."
"I love you too. My fierce, beautiful, stubborn future wife, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make you the happiest woman on the planet."
I looked up and cupped his cheek. “You’re mine now, Code,” I whispered. “I know you’re going to knock yourself out trying to keep me and our children safe and happy, but just know, I’ll always be here, making sure you’re taken care of too.”