Chapter 12 Cody
Cody
When I think about you,
I end up having a stupid grin on my face.
~ Unknown
We’re all in the weight room. It’s the best place for me to be right now.
I kissed my best friend’s sister.
No.
I kissed Carli, not Jace. And Jace had nothing to do with that kiss—obviously. If I had been thinking of him, I wouldn’t have kissed her. Not there. Not where anyone could have walked in—where he almost did.
She deserved a better first kiss from me.
Still, as brief and stolen as it was, our kiss was everything.
My chest tugs just thinking of it—my head lighter than air, my lips feel different, unfamiliar, alive.
And it’s all I can think about now—the soft fullness of her lips, the sound of her breath as I pulled away after that first brush, the way she leaned in when I returned for more.
Did she want me the way I want her?
She didn’t recoil—not until the sound of Jace’s boots ripped us apart.
I push the barbell up, away from my chest with a grunt. My muscles strain. Exhale. Inhale. Lower the bar. Repeat.
“Are you going out for Mr. World or something, Cody?”
Dustin’s question breaks my concentration and the bar wobbles.
He steps over and spots me.
“Nah. Just getting the most out of the workout.”
“Putting us to shame,” Patrick says with a smirk.
“Speak for yourself,” Dustin says, flexing.
In all my years, I’ve never met a guy who likes to flex more than he does. It should be obnoxious, but he makes it funny.
“Switch out with me,” I tell Dustin, sitting up and grabbing the hand towel to wipe my brow.
He’s about to take the bench. I grab a jump rope.
The alarm sounds.
Captain’s voice rings through the speakers in the bay and through the open door of the weight room. “Fire at Sycamore Assisted Living.”
“Actually?” Dustin asks.
He’s not wrong. Nine out of ten calls to that place are not fire related. And the ones that are, often end up being set by seniors who miss us and want to stir things up to get us over there.
“Not a drill,” David’s voice rings through the bay.
We’re already on our way toward our turnout lockers. Less than a minute later, we’re pulling out of the driveway, heading toward the senior living center.
“Toaster fire on the second floor,” dispatch says through the headsets.
“Copy,” Grey says. “En route.”
“Think someone put the Waterford Happenings in their toaster?” Dustin asks. “It has been a few weeks since we’ve had a call out here.”
“Not even funny,” Greyson says.
“Fair,” Dustin says. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Grey.”
Greyson nods.
We pull up in front of the familiar three-story brick building with green shutters and white trim. Residents have filed outside, and as usual, some of them look disgruntled. Nurses and aides are mingling between the seniors.
Patrick and I exit the engine first, grabbing our axes and thermal imaging camera.
“Room two sixteen,” one of the staff tells us as we run toward the building.
“Not me this time,” Wilma Chesterton yells across the lawn to us.
“Me neither,” Mrs. Patterson says proudly.
“We put the fire out with an extinguisher,” the center manager, Ray, tells me once we’re on the porch. “Just called you boys in case we missed something.”
“Always best to be safe,” Patrick says.
Patrick glances over at me and I nod.
He and I run up the stairs to the second floor. The smell of smoke fills the hallway, but no visible sign of fire is evident. We check the apartment in question. Fire’s out. There’s not even a singe to the wall. The toaster’s a goner, but otherwise, damage looks contained.
“All clear,” I radio down to the engine.
“Copy,” Grey says.
On the way out, I instruct the manager to set up a fan and have the wall outlet in that unit checked.
We step onto the lawn. “All’s clear,” I announce to the residents. “You can go back inside.”
“I was just making toast,” Ginny Holmes says.
“What’d I tell ya about that gluten-free stuff?” Evelyn says. “It’s as good as kindling.”
“Stick to bagels,” Harold McKinney says. “Them or English muffins—they’ll catch all your jam in those little nooks and crannies.”
Ginny’s face scrunches up. “Why would I want jam in my grannies?”
I look over at Patrick. He’s keeping a straight face.
“Alright everyone,” I say. “Good to see you again.”
“Don’t you want to stay for Bingo?” Loretta Simmons asks us.
“Maybe next time, Loretta,” I promise her.
She pats my arm with her frail hand. “Make good on that, Cody.”
“I will,” I tell her. I don’t know when, but I will.
In the truck, Greyson’s all business. But then he looks over at me and quietly says, “Gluten-free strikes again.”
I chuckle softly.
I wonder what he’d think if I told him I kissed Carli. Not that I’m going to tell him. I’m not.
Back at the station, I’m grabbing a drink from the fridge when my phone pings with a text notification.
I pull it from my pocket.
McKenna. My face lights up with a smile.
It’s been good having her home. Not to mention the fact that when she’s around, Carli’s at the house more often.
Increased time with Carli might be a problem, considering I should not be thinking about her as anything other than my sister’s best friend or my best friend’s little sister—let alone kissing her.
But it’s a problem I’d rather have than not.
McKenna: Hey! I couldn’t wait. While you were on shift, I told the fam my news.
Cody: What news?
She’s already engaged. Is she moving?
McKenna: I’m getting married!
Cody: I know. Also, they know.
McKenna: LOL. No! I’m getting married here. At the ranch. Westley has a break in filming. It’s so short we can’t really do much, but he suggested we go ahead and have a simple ceremony at the ranch and I thought it was an awesome idea.
Cody: Don’t you think all his ideas are awesome?
McKenna: He’s awesome.
She’s so gone for this guy. I should have some sort of protective instinct that flares up, but he’s a good man. And he’s good for my sister.
Cody: Congratulations! Let me know what you need. I’m there.
McKenna: Darn straight you are. You’re going to be a groomsman.
I take a seat at the kitchen table, cracking the top on my protein drink.
Cody: And Carli will be your maid of honor?
I’m pushing it, asking about her.
McKenna: Of course. She’s been my bestie since we met.
Cody: Splashing in the stock tank when you were toddlers?
I chuckle to myself. That’s the oldest photo Mom has of Carli and McKenna—the two of them in a galvanized drinking trough in their little swimsuits and pigtails.
It’s on the wall of the hallway leading to the bedrooms in the main house.
One more reason I should keep my hands—and my lips—to myself where Carli’s concerned.
Our families are woven together tighter than cloth in a braided rag rug. Everything we do will impact everyone.
My stomach sinks as the thought settles in. I’ll be the man who ruined lifelong friendships by crossing the line with the girl next door.
Leave it to me to fall for the one woman who’s intimately intertwined with my family.
“Anyone up for lunch at the bakery?” Dustin shouts into the kitchen where we’re all on our laptops or phones.
“I’m down,” Grey says.
“I could eat,” I say. “Why not?”
“Patrick?” Dustin asks.
“Sure. Let me text Daisy. Maybe she can get away and meet us there.”
“Let’s go see our women,” Dustin says easily to Patrick.
Greyson and I share a look.
I lean my head into the office. “Want anything from Baker From Another Mother?” I ask Captain.
“No, thank you. Lynsey made me lunch.”
Men and their wives and girlfriends. Seems to be a theme today.
We take the engine over to the bakery and park across the street. Dustin is practically buzzing with excitement to see Emberleigh. Even after all this time dating, being engaged, and soon to be married, she has this effect on him.
We’ve barely parked when Dustin jumps out of the truck and heads across the street at a light jog. The three of us walk at a normal pace behind him. Daisy’s waiting for Patrick and her face lights up with a soft smile when she sees him.
I glance at the woman next to Daisy and do a double take. Carli. She’s showered, not a strand of hay in her hair, and dressed for her job.
She smiles shyly at me, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Hey, Carli!” Dustin says. Then he lets out a low whistle. “You clean up nice, farm girl.”
She blushes. “Thanks.”
“I was already planning on lunch with Carli,” Daisy tells Patrick. “Is it okay if she joins us?”
“We can all eat together,” Patrick suggests. “We’ll just pull some tables together in the back of the bakery.”
Daisy smiles at Patrick as if he just solved world hunger.
I silently mouth the word, “Hi,” to Carli.
She smiles and mouths, “Hi,” back.
That’s good. She’s smiling.
Lunch passes with us seated opposite one another. Our feet and knees bump due to the size of these bistro tables. And we apologize to one another whenever it happens. She blushes every time.
When everyone’s deep in conversations, I tap her foot with mine. She glances to her left, then right. I wait, forcing myself not to stare at her directly. When she looks in my direction, she meets my gaze with wide eyes.
We stare at one another. My skin prickles. “We should talk,” I whisper at a practically inaudible level.
Her eyes dart around slowly, double checking that no one’s watching us. Then she nods.
“I’ll text you,” I tell her, quietly.
She nods again. And then she smiles and averts her eyes, that same blush rising up her cheeks.
We make it through lunch, joining in on conversations around us, our eyes landing on one another when no one’s looking.
Greyson’s silent, but seems content to sit quietly through most of the meal.
Dustin’s at the end of the table, his arm loosely draped around the back of Emberleigh’s chair.
Sydney’s on the other side of Emberleigh, watching them and smiling.
Patrick’s next to me, his hand on Daisy’s knee.
The table stretches between Carli and me.
Emberleigh gets up and comes back with two plates of cookies which she sets on the table.
“We’d better get back to the station,” Patrick tells her.
“Take some cookies to go, then,” she insists.
“I wasn’t leaving here without cookies and a kiss,” Dustin announces.
“Dustin!” Emberleigh says as if she’s embarrassed, but her smile says otherwise.
She loads up a pink box of the cookies and Grey and I carry it to the engine while Patrick and Dustin say goodbye to their girlfriends.
Carli walks out of the shop just as I’m hopping up into my seat. Our eyes lock. I force myself to look away before Grey notices. He’s worse than a police dog when it comes to sniffing out details—always watching, noticing what others miss.
Patrick hops into the truck next, followed by Dustin.
“I’m going to ask Daisy to marry me,” Patrick says.
“Duh,” Dustin answers.
“Really?” I say at the same time.
“Yeah. We know we’re going to spend our future together. We were just taking our time. But I’m done with that. I want to share a home with her. I want to wake up next to her.”
“Tell me about it,” Dustin says.
“You want to wake up next to Daisy?” Greyson asks in full deadpan. “That could be a real issue.”
“Har har,” Dustin says.
“I think that’s great, Patrick,” I say. “When are you going to propose?”
“I’ve got to work out the details. But I’ve already got the ring.”
Greyson whistles.
Patrick smiles this contented smile. It’s the kind only the right woman can put on a man’s face.
The evening is uneventful. We run through the routines at the station. Dustin makes pasta and garlic bread for dinner.
I’ve been waiting all afternoon—ever since lunch—to find a time when I could text Carli without anyone noticing me and possibly seeing who I’m texting.
Once the guys are settled with books or their show, I step outside. It feels weird to text her. I’ve always texted Jace or McKenna. Never Carli unless it was about one of them.
Cody: Hey. Sorry it took me a minute to text.
Carli: That’s okay. I know you’re busy.
Cody: Yeah. It was a crazy morning and then I couldn’t get a minute alone. Are you home?
Carli: I am. I had to go into the office for some last-minute paperwork today. Tomorrow’s official hands-on orientation with the other inspector.
Cody: Congrats on getting the job—again.
Carli: Thanks. I’m nervous and excited.
Cody: You’ll do great.
Carli: Thanks.
Cody: I thought we should talk—you know—if you still want to.
Carli: Agreed. We should.
Cody: I’m really bad at texting. I’d call, but the guys are all here. There’s no privacy.
Carli: You’re doing fine. So far … ;)
I smile. This is just Chuck. I don’t need to impress her or be something I’m not. Only, for some reason, she’s the only person whose opinion matters to me right now.
Cody: Could you meet up sometime?
Carli: Not tomorrow, it’s my first day and I have to go in early. But I could bring biscuits by the house the next morning you’re off shift. No one will blink if I show up with biscuits. I can’t stay too long since I have to get to work after that.
Cody: I’ve got a few days off in a row with our Kelly schedule. What about the day after tomorrow? Will that be too much for you—baking before work? And the house tends to be crowded around breakfast. I was hoping to talk alone. In private.
Carli: We can just make up an excuse to go out to the barn.
Cody: That should work. Yeah?
Carli: Yes. It should.
Cody: Okay. I’ll see you then.
Carli: See you, Cody.