Chapter Five
Cody
Cody woke to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar windows and the smell of freshly brewed coffee, and for one blissful, disoriented second, he didn't remember why he was in a strange bed. It certainly didn’t look like any hotel he’d ever stayed in.
Then it all came back—the photos, the fear, the flight.
Reid Colter's intense stare and the safety the man projected despite how utterly intimidating he was.
When Cody had caught his first glimpse of Reid, his jaw had gone slack.
The man was seriously hot. Cody hadn’t anticipated that—he hadn’t thought too much on the matter at all, truth be told, other than a fleeting thought of how capable the man would be.
And when Reid had met Cody’s gaze, the intensity of his stare had made Cody feel stripped bare.
He’d had the weirdest inclination to get down on the ground, roll to his back and bare his stomach.
Where the hell had that thought come from?
It had taken everything in him not to turn his head to the side and offer up his neck.
Cody shook his head, incredulous. The stress of the stalking situation had to be getting to him. It was the only plausible explanation.
Cody sat up, running a hand through his hair. He’d crashed hard after arriving at the ranch in the late afternoon and had slept clean through to morning. He’d obviously needed the rest and felt safe enough in Reid’s house to crash so heavily and for so long.
He found clothes in his suitcase and dressed in jeans a white tee and a soft flannel shirt.
No performance clothes here. No one to impress.
Cody’s mind instantly brought up an image of Reid, but he pushed it aside.
Reid was his employee. Cody could absolutely not be thinking about him in any sort of romantic way.
He had to keep things between them strictly professional.
His shoulders relaxed. For the first time in months, Cody didn't have to perform.
Didn't have to smile through exhaustion, didn't have to pretend he was fine.
The armor could come off, at least for a little while.
The thought terrified him—this vulnerability, this exposure.
What if Reid took one look at the real Cody and found him lacking? Cody frowned, hating the idea.
When he opened the bedroom door, he nearly tripped over a chair positioned directly in front of his threshold.
Had Reid… had he sat there all night?
Cody’s throat tightened.
That was above and beyond the job Reid had been hired to do, but Cody appreciated the sentiment. It made him feel more safe and protected than he had any right to be under the circumstances.
Downstairs, he found Reid in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Eggs, bacon, toast. The man moved with economical precision, like even making breakfast was a tactical operation.
"Morning," Cody offered.
Reid's shoulders tensed, and he turned. Their eyes met across the kitchen island.
That strange, aware sensation settled over Cody again. Like the air pressure had changed, or like Reid was seeing something Cody couldn't name. He moved closer, but the action hadn’t been intentional. It was as if his legs were moving on their own accord.
"Morning," Reid said, his voice rough. "Coffee?"
"Yes, please."
Reid poured a cup, then slid it across the counter, and their fingers brushed during the handoff. There had been barely a second of contact, but Reid jerked back like he'd been burned.
Okay. So it wasn't just Cody imagining this.
"Did you get much sleep?" Cody asked, taking a careful sip and watching Reid over the rim of the mug. The coffee was perfect.
Reid shrugged. "Enough."
That was an evasive answer. Cody studied Reid more carefully.
The man was huge—at least six-three, maybe six-four, with the kind of build that suggested serious time in the gym or, more likely, serious time doing things that required functional strength.
His dark hair was cut military-short. He had a strong jaw that looked good with the small amount of stubble that covered it this morning.
Cody tried not to stare, but honestly, he couldn’t help himself.
Reid’s Hazel eyes caught the light sometimes and looked almost amber. They were stunning.
Reid was, objectively, gorgeous. The kind of masculine that made Cody shiver with desire.
But it was more than attraction. It was the way Reid looked at him. Focused and intense, almost… protective in a way that went way beyond professional.
Or maybe Cody was just projecting. God knew he'd been starved for genuine human connection lately.
For months, the only people in his orbit were transactional—managers, assistants, security, all orbiting his celebrity status like planets.
No one who just wanted to be around him for him, the person instead of the star.
No one who saw the exhausted, uncertain man beneath the brand he had created.
"You didn't have to sit outside my door all night," Cody said.
Reid's jaw tightened. "Yes, I did."
Cody frowned. "Is that protocol?"
Reid stilled. "Something like that."
Cody opened his mouth to question him, but Reid began serving breakfast, plating it all on the table in front of him and when Cody’s stomach growled, he forgot about what he’d been about to ask.
Cody gestured to the seat across from him, but Reid shook his head. "I should check the perimeter sensors."
"Reid. Sit, and eat. Please. The sensors will be fine for ten minutes."
He paused again, longer this time. Then, like he was fighting an inner battle with himself, Reid finally sat. They ate in silence for a few minutes. It should have been awkward, but somehow it wasn't. It was just… quiet. Comfortable, even.
"This is good," Cody said, gesturing to the food. "You cook a lot?"
"It’s just field skills. You learn to make decent food out of anything when you're deployed."
"You were in the military?"
"Army. Eight years."
"What made you leave?"
Reid's expression shuttered. "Wanted something different."
A deflection. Cody recognized those—he used them constantly in interviews. “Why did you come out publicly?”
“Because I wanted to live honestly.”
“Are you dating anyone?”
“I’m focused on my music.”
They were polite non-answers that protected something vital beneath.
"Well, I'm glad you did," Cody said. "Leave the Army, I mean. Otherwise you wouldn't be here. And I feel safer with you than I've felt in months, so… thank you."
Reid’s gaze snapped to him. The intensity burning in his eyes made Cody’s pulse race.
"You're welcome," Reid said roughly.
The silence stretched out between them. Reid looked like he wanted to say something, then thought better of it. He stood abruptly. "I need to make some calls and check the sensors. Stay inside. Don't answer the door. If you need anything—"
"Don’t worry about me,” Cody said. "I’ll be fine."
Reid nodded. “Before I forget. My brother wants to start monitoring your online accounts, email address, social media, that sort of thing. Can you make me a list of everything you use?”
Cody’s eyes widened. “You don’t think he can find me through any of my accounts, do you?”
Reid shook his head. “Garrett just likes to make sure all bases are covered. Nothing to worry about.”
“Okay, Cody said, I’ll get it to you later.”
“Thanks. Feel free to explore the house,” he said. “I want you to feel at home here.”
Before Cody could reply, Reid rushed out the door like his tail end was on fire, or like he was escaping.
Cody sat at the table, cradling his coffee, and wondered what the hell was happening.
Because something was. He wasn't imagining the way Reid looked at him—like Cody was something precious and dangerous at the same time.
He wasn't imagining the tension that crackled between them.
And he definitely wasn't imagining the way his own body responded to Reid's proximity—the heat, and the strange sense of rightness when Reid was nearby.
Cody shook his head as if to clear it. Stop it, he told himself firmly. Reid is here to protect you. He's a professional. You're just a client to him. You feel vulnerable and he makes you feel safe. Your brain is interpreting that as attraction.
Except that didn’t feel like it was the truth, at least not entirely. When he looked at Reid, he got the strangest sense of recognition, like his body and his mind somehow recognized Reid, like Cody knew him. He sighed. He was going insane. He had to be.
As soon as he finished breakfast, Cody rinsed his plate then made the list of online accounts and email address that Reid had asked him for before deciding to take Reid up on his offer to explore the house.
He hoped it might clear his head and help him to stop obsessing over his bodyguard like some lovestruck idiot.
He started wandering and mapping out the space.
The living room was casually furnished and comfortable with big plush pillows on the sofa and windows that faced the mountains.
Upstairs, the second bedroom was empty except for a desk and laptop—Reid's makeshift office.
The third bedroom, a guest bedroom, was minimally decorated and functional.