It was the reality—his entire carefully constructed life had just been obliterated by a man who didn't even know what he was to Reid.
His mate.
The one thing Reid had sworn he never wanted.
And now that he had him, Reid would die before he let anything happen to him. Which meant keeping Cody safe had just become the only thing that mattered in Reid's entire world.
He was so fucked.
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 ofReid, 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.
