Free Cody by Kimberly Raye

he was going to do his damnedest to erase her memory. It might not work. It probably wouldn’t work, but he had to try. If he succeeded, then she would stop thinking about him. Then maybe, just maybe, he could stop thinking about her and keep his distance for the next few days.
    Otherwise…
    He ignored the lustful thought that slammed into him and picked up his steps. He was ending this.
    Now.

Chapter Ten
    T HE LOUD DINGGGG DONGGGG echoed in Miranda’s head and her hand stalled on the lid of a mayonnaise jar.
    A strange tingling swept through her, part fear, part excitement. Suddenly she didn’t know whether to answer the door or run like hell.
    It was him.
    She felt it in the way her nipples tightened and her legs trembled. Her stomach hollowed out and her heart went into overdrive.
    Yeah, right.
    It could be anyone at her front door.
    Mrs. Barthels from next door. The woman loved to stop by and gripe about something. Miranda’s rose bushes were too high. Her patio lights were too bright. Her sprinklers were too noisy.
    Little Jenna McGhee. She was a Girl Scout and cookie season had just started.
    Mr. Bonney. He’d been trying to sell her tickets to the VFW barbecue since last week.
    Claire Jackson. Whenever her no-good husband Cal didn’t come home, she always went looking for him. She’d caught Cal with Miranda’s older sister, Lucy, only once. But that was all it had taken to throw a veilof suspicion on Miranda herself. She was a Rivers, after all. Translation? Trashy and no good. No man was safe and so whenever Cal came up missing, Claire always paid Miranda a very unpleasant visit.
    That would stop if she married Greg.
    If?
    There was no if. She was marrying him.
    The doorbell rang again before she could worry over the doubt that whispered through her. She gathered her control and set the mayonnaise jar to the side.
    It wasn’t Cody, and there was one way to prove it.
    She made it three steps before the back door flew open. Shock bolted through Miranda and she whirled as a tall, leggy redhead waltzed in.
    Lucy Rivers was just two years older than Miranda, but too many nights of drinking and smoking made it seem more like ten. The wear and tear dulled her bright blue eyes just enough to give her that jaded look. However worn and worldly, she was still a beautiful girl. She had an hourglass figure that would have made even Jessica Simpson envious, and long, silky hair that flowed to her waist.
    With the right clothes, she could have looked like a runway model. Instead, she looked like any other barmaid down at the Iron Horse. She wore the standard uniform—a pair of Daisy Duke shorts, red cowboy boots and a Hawaiian print tube top. Bright red lipstick colored her full mouth and heavy black pencil rimmed her blue eyes.
    “What’s up, Randy?”
    “Geez, you scared the crap out of me.” Miranda drewa deep breath. “I thought you were at the front door.” She glanced down the hallway, but there wasn’t so much as a shadow on the other side of the oval glass that sat in the middle of the door.
    “Why wait around when I know you leave the back door unlocked? Besides, we’re family. What’s yours is mine. Mi casa, su casa. Mi sandwich, su sandwich. ” She grinned and picked up the turkey and Swiss Miranda had just made.
    “Wait—” Miranda started, but Lucy’s mouth had already closed over the corner.
    She took a huge bite and chewed. “Kudos, Sis. You make one hell of a sandwich. I’m terrible with cooking.”
    “It’s a sandwich. It’s pretty much foolproof if you’ve got the stuff.”
    “Which you always have because you do grocery shopping so much better than me.”
    “You don’t do grocery shopping, period.”
    She wiggled her eyebrows. “I do grocery clerks. That cute one that works on Friday evenings and that new guy that just started full-time.”
    “That’s not what I meant.”
    “I know. I just like to watch you turn red. You’re such a goody goody. I bet you’ve never tried