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"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.