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Cody felt something warm and honeyed break loose inside him. He didn’t know what it was, or what it meant.
But he did know he wasn’t sure he liked the fact that he liked it.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“That really was a nice trick, with Ghost,” Britt said, because she felt she owed it to him. He had indeed carried her inside, with the same care as he’d carried her down that slippery slope. He’d gently lowered her into the power recliner her father had ceded to her for the duration.
She expected him to say something about a horse you had to trick not being worth the trouble, but he didn’t. Instead he said, “You’re worried about her losing ground while you’re recovering.”
It wasn’t a question. He’d said it as if he knew it was true. It was, of course, but she hadn’t expected him to see it. “Yes,” she admitted.
“And yourself, too.”
She couldn’t deny she was worried, a lot, about her own condition, about getting weak, about the injured joints not regaining enough strength and stability fast enough, or maybe even not working right. And she didn’t like how this tiny excursion out to the barn had exhausted her. But she really hadn’t expected him to understand any of that.
She knew her surprise must have shown on her face, but he didn’t call her on it. Instead, he said quietly, “I could work with her while you’re down,” he said. “At least keep her in shape.”
Cody riding Ghost? That had the potential for him to end up in worse shape than she was. And she was stunned he’d offered. “You sure you want to tackle that?”
“I know, I’m not up to dealing with her on the same level you are,” he said with a wry half smile.
She stared up at him silently for a long moment. Too long. But she was trying to understand the urge that had come over her. And she couldn’t seem to stop herself from saying, “And I couldn’t deal with your tech stuff.”
For a moment he just stared back at her. It was awkward, this kind of peace and understanding between them, because it was unfamiliar.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said suddenly. “You’ll get back on the circuit, both of you, and it’ll go just like you planned.”
She drew back slightly. Now encouragement? From Cody the Coder? “Not quite like I planned,” she said. “I’ll be getting a late start at this rate, by the time I get us both back in shape. It could be three months of downtime, if it takes the maximum time to heal and then get through rehab.”
“So you get a late start,” he said. “Make it a big deal. If it’s going to be three months, start back up like you started the first time, at the Independence Day Rodeo here in Last Stand. Let people think that’s why you’re starting late. You wanted it to be there. Home crowd’ll be good, too. They’ll cheer so much Ghost will fly.”
He smiled, a full one this time. And that dimple flashed again. Damn, it wasn’t fair. She hated him. Why did he have to look so good?
And be so nice. And strong. Don’t forget those.
She stopped herself before she went on and on with a list of attributes that she would admire a great deal, in anyone else.
“I…that’s a good idea,” she admitted. “As long as it doesn’t get out I got thrown just out riding. That’ll have sponsors wondering if I’m as good as they thought.”
His smile, that great, dimpled smile, vanished. He looked as if she’d tossed—as she once had—a glass of ice water at him. And she had no idea why.
“Wondering that yourself?” she asked, her tone sour.
“No.” His voice matched his suddenly unreadable expression. Then he looked away, turning his head to stare out the front window of the house before saying roughly, “I know how good you are.”
For a moment he just stood there. And she just sat there—as if she had any other choice—amid the clutter that had accumulated around this chair she was limited to at the moment, trying to figure out what had changed. After a few silent moments passed, moments in which she grew more and more aware of the various aches and pains she was feeling, she let out a sigh.
“For somebody supposedly so good, I should have known better, heading up there when it was raining like that. I’m not surprised those rocks went.”
His head snapped back around. He stared at her, and for a moment she was almost certain he was about to blurt out something. And she got the feeling it was something he didn’t want to say.
But before he could there was a distinctive scratch at the door.
“That must be Dodger,” she said.
“You want him in?” Cody asked, sounding relieved, which made her think she’d been right about him not wanting to say whatever it had been.
“Yes, he’ll be good company. Your brother even trained him to fetch some things, so he’ll be handy, too, given I’m about as mobile as this house right now.”
