He exhales through his nose. “Would’ve been our seven-year wedding anniversary.”
My stomach drops. A widow? How sad.
My throat dries but I still manage to reply. “Sorry for your loss.”
“She didn’t die,” he scoffs. “She left me at the damn altar.”
I swallow, suddenly regretting the question I thought would be easy and lighthearted.
“Oh.”
“That’s why I was at the bar tonight. It’s kinda my tradition.” His tone is firm.
“I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry for asking.”
His jaw flexes. “It’s fine.”
I zip my lips. Even though I want to know more, I force myself to sit quietly as he continues down the rocky gravel road.
It isn’t until now that my exhaustion completely hits. I was tired before, but now? I could fall asleep right here.
He turns down another gravel road, except there was a house number at the end, so I’m guessing this is his driveway.
About a quarter mile in, he pulls up to a small cabin tucked between a few trees. A porch light at the side door is the only thing lit.
He cuts the engine and comes around to help me down. His hand is rough but his grasp is gentle.
“Thanks,” I say, and he proceeds to grab my bag from the back seat.
“Dogs shouldn’t jump; they’ll sniff you, though. Especially with a baby in there.” He laughs.
I follow him to the side door, which he pushes open without hesitation. I guess people don’t lock their doors around here.
And just like he promised, I’m met with three dogs, tails wagging, paws scrabbling on the hardwood floors.
“Oh, hi,” I say, holding out my hand. They swarm, sniffing like I’m the most interesting thing they’ve smelled all day. The yellow one licks my fingers, and I feel another one’s wet nose on my ankle.
“Alright, sit,” Cody commands, and they do, instantly. But their tails continue to wag. They’re about to sand the finish off the floor.
I follow Cody past the dogs to the main living space. It’s very basic, very rugged…rustic and masculine. It’s exactly what I would envision for a guy like him.
Everything’s wood—the floors, the walls, even the ceiling. There’s a dark green couch, a worn wooden coffee table, and a single end table stacked with magazines. In the corner, there’s a tall black gun safe with a duck mount perched on top.
Deer mounts are everywhere. Geese too.
It’s like a zoo, except everything’s dead.
The kitchen’s off to the side. It’s an open floor plan, decently sized. Clean, minimal, basic. There’s a small round table withthree chairs that don’t match. Salt and pepper shakers sit in the center like a makeshift centerpiece, and a coffee mug stuffed with napkins finishes the look.
Cody sets my bag on the floor, then turns to face me.
“Welcome to the crib,” he says, gesturing around before resting his hands on his hips.
I smirk, because this could get interesting.
He’s all broad shoulders, strong build, sharp jaw…like someone who actually works out and doesn’t just talk about it.
Not that I’m noticing or anything.
