Cody’s features are muted in the low yellow glow. My skin hums at his approach. Each step makes the moment more real.
“Did you find the place okay?” Cody asks, his hand reaching out to brush a piece of hair out of my face.
“I did,” I say, smiling up at him.
“Good. I’m glad.” Cody’s voice is warm, a softness and rasp to it I’ve never heard before.
He glances around into the dark night. “No one comes out here,” he assures me.
“Let’s hope not,” I say. “We’ve had enough close calls for one week.”
Even though we ate biscuits together just this morning, it feels like weeks have passed since then.
He draws me into a hug and I wrap my arms around his back, burying my face in his chest and breathing him in.
A night breeze blows across the field and I shiver.
“Cold?” Cody asks.
“A little.” I snuggle closer. “But you’re warm, so I’m not complaining.”
His chuckle vibrates under my cheek.
“Let’s get in the truck,” he says. “My heater works.”
“My heater works,” I defend, looking up at him.
Cody raises an eyebrow, then guides me to the passenger side of his truck.
He opens the door for me and his palm lands on the small of my back.
My nerves spark under his touch.
Cody and I have grown up around one another. We’ve hoisted one another onto hay bales, pushed one another off too. He’s never touched me this way, his eyes on mine, a combination of care and desire in his gaze.
I climb into the cab and Cody shuts the door behind me. He hops in the other side and turns the key. The heater blows warm on my feet.
I turn toward him, unsure what to do or say next.
We’re here. Now what?
“So …” we both say at the same time. Our shared laughter follows.
“Go ahead,” he says, his hand reaching over, popping the console up, transforming the front seats into one continuous bench.
“Impressive,” I tell him.
“It comes in handy,” he says with a smile, scooting away from the steering wheel into the center of the cab.
He’s not right next to me, but he’s close enough that I could kiss him.
“What were you going to say, Chuck?”
I laugh softly. Something about the nickname opens a hatch door to my childhood memories and to all the times he called me that.
“I honestly don’t know,” I admit.
“I just wanted you to know that kiss—the first one in your barn—wasn’t a mistake or an impulse.”
