A Bet Worth Making (Grayson County #2) (15 page)

“Apparently so does everyone else,” I muttered.

Up ahead, the road split, and Summer eased the brake and came to a stop at the four-way. She turned in her seat and met my gaze, wincing only slightly before she spoke again. “Wayne knows it because his last name is the same as yours.”

“Wait. What?” I looked from her to Casey. He didn’t meet my eyes. “We’re related?” Summer nodded, looking pained. “How?”

“I don’t know the whole story. Wayne’s mom left town years ago. Wayne mentioned in high school that he lived with his grandparents for a while … in Windsor. He went to school with us senior year only after he was expelled from his own school. Anyway, if it’s true, that makes him your cousin.”

“Cousin?” I repeated. Please dear baby Jesus, say no.

Summer shifted and turned forward again, easing the car down the narrow road. We sat in silence, Casey stiff and stoic beside me. I chewed my lip, hating the distance but hating even more that he’d known this and kept it from me. If he’d known Wayne in high school, why hadn’t he said anything?

Summer pulled up in front of the house and Casey slid out, holding the door open for me to follow.

“I’m sorry for not warning you,” Summer said to me. I knew from the regret in her tone that she meant it, but I was too churned up to respond. I nodded once and climbed out of the car. As soon as the door closed, Summer drove off.

I was halfway to the porch when Casey stopped me. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d judge them for it.”

I turned slowly, taking in his haggard expression. It was more than just tiredness that lined his eyes as he stared back at me. Exhaustion of a different kind seemed to hang over him.

“You lied,” I said simply, too hurt to be angry now.

“No, I decided not to share everything,” he corrected. “I wanted you to get to know me. And maybe even them. Without the burden of knowing your family includes someone nasty like him. When you told me about your reasons for being here, I could see how angry you still were at them. But this is about your grandparents. You didn’t need to know about Wayne or let his mistakes and reputation ruin your experience here. And then seeing how bad it went with them last weekend … I wasn’t about to add to the reasons you might have to dislike them.”

“And Summer?”

His shoulders slumped. “She didn’t make the connection right away. When she did, I asked her not to say anything to you about it.”

I folded my arms.

Casey sighed. “I hope you’ll understand once you’ve slept on it.”

I bristled at his gentle tone. The way he treated me as if I were in the wrong here, not him. He’d lied. He’d punched a guy. And he’d done it all in the name of some outdated excuse for protection.

Casey hesitated a moment longer, hovering close. Then he stepped back and gestured to the steps. “I’ll see you in the morning, Jordan.”

I didn’t have to be told twice.

I spun on my heel and marched inside without a backward glance.

Chapter Eighteen

Casey

Quittin’ time came and went and still I lurked underneath the belly of this damned tractor. Goose was almost as hard to figure out as a woman. I figured if there was anywhere I deserved to be, pouring sweat and tears into a problem, it was here. Four days since the bar fight and Jordan had barely spoken a word to me. All I could think about was how she’d looked in the moonlight in our front yard.

Embarrassment, confusion, anger, hurt—I’d watched it all play across Jordan’s face as she’d walked away from me. I’d let her go because I hadn’t known what else to say. She was right. I’d known and I’d kept Wayne’s identity from her on purpose. For my own selfish reasons, too. I wanted Jordan to stop stereotyping small-towners. To give me a shot at getting to know her better.

That was on me. But the judgment and quick accusations—those were on her. And she wasn’t going to own those easily.

Hell, whether she owned them or not, my chance at anything real with Jordan was gone. Didn’t matter that I’d only kept my mouth shut to protect her. To keep Wayne from confirming all the stereotype judgments she’d formed against her own people and ruining her chances at making things right with them. I’d known all along he’d be a dick about the whole thing. Word on the street was that he wanted John’s car dealership for himself. He knew he stood to inherit it all and he wasn’t the type to share. I’d known from the start he’d give Jordan shit for being here.

But now, all that mattered was that to her, I was the enemy. I was everything she’d come here assuming I was: a backwoods, country asshole. If I ever wanted to prove her wrong, there was only one thing I could do for her now.

“You trying to kill it or fix it?”

Summer’s voice was way too cheerful for me right now. I ignored her and kept banging away—my new method of repair—on Goose’s exhaust pipe and general underbelly.

“Thought you might want to know Dad was talking about repurposing that shed out by the bonfire site.”

Summer’s words were careless enough, but the wariness curling in my gut was the exact opposite. I lowered the wrench I’d been wielding. “And why would I want to know?”

Her feet shuffled along the dirt floor, kicking up a fine layer of sawdust. “He wants to use it to store spare parts and that extra tiller he’s got coming, which means he’ll end up tossing out everything currently inside.”

I rolled reluctantly out from my hiding spot. Summer stood over me, hands tucked in her back pockets, wearing a meaningful expression.

“You know what’s in there right now?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I know your hobby is bigger than any of us thought.” And then her nonchalance fell away and her brows furrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve got enough bike parts back there to supply an entire Motocross circuit?”

I rolled away and got to my feet, debating how to answer her. I wasn’t exactly in the mood to lie—but hadn’t I done that already with keeping it all a secret? I grabbed a soda from the fridge—I hadn’t been in the mood to drink since Friday night—and turned to face Summer.

“I’ve been running a side business,” I admitted, watching her carefully as I spoke. “I’ve taken orders and gotten projects by word of mouth. Mostly Windsor and over near the track where I used to race in Milton.”

“That’s great.” Summer blinked, clearly surprised. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

“Because this is my job,” I said, gesturing to Goose and the rest of the barn. “This is what I do every day. What am I going to do, quit on Frank? On Dean?”

“Well … yeah,” Summer said, her head cocked as if the answer were so simple, I was the idiot.

“I can’t do that, not when Frank paid for mechanic school. I can’t use him that way,” I said, irritated and wishing I had gone for the beer instead. Or anything but the conversation.

“Look, I don’t know what Frank has said to you but I know him. He paid for school because it was what you wanted. He wants you to figure out your life. We all do.”

My eyes narrowed. “What does that mean? Who is ‘we’?”

Summer stared down at the line her toe made in the sawdust.

“Spill it, Stafford.”

She sighed. “Frank, Dad, Ford, and me. We’ve all talked about it and we agree that you’re just circling.”

“Circling?” I repeated, temper heating my neck and face.

“You’re not happy, Case. We all see that even if you don’t. You come to work, go home, ride on the weekends, tinker with bikes—but it’s just you going through the motions. There’s no satisfaction, no ambition.”

“I have plenty of satisfaction,” I said suggestively and even I knew the leer I added at the end wasn’t going to help my argument.

Summer gave me a wry look and crossed her arms. “You know what I mean. But since you brought it up, I have to say, you have been different since Jordan came to town. She’s been good for you.”

“Jordan and I are not … Look,” I said, rubbing at the back of my neck as I searched for words. “I’ll tell Dean about the bikes. He has a right since it’s his shed I’ve been stashing them in. But Jordan isn’t happening. She’s got a lot on her plate and I’m not going to overload her.”

“You like her?” Summer shot back.

“What? Yeah, but she’s only here temporarily.” It was the easiest excuse I could muster without going into the whole mess about her family.

Summer rolled her eyes. “Do I need to remind you how Ford and I got together? We were doomed from the start and we figured it out.” I opened my mouth to argue, to explain that this was different; Jordan had already made up her mind about guys like me. But Summer cut me off. “If you like her, do what it takes. Even if she leaves in the end, Casey, do it for you. Shake things up. Figure out what you want, how you want to live your life. I don’t want you to spend it hiding underneath Goose.”

All I could do was stare at her, at a loss. The silence felt uncomfortable, but what did she expect me to say to all that? “Well, damn,” I said finally. “Don’t go easy on me or anything.”

Summer sighed and shook her head.

Without another word, she turned and left me standing in the sawdust, alone and apparently going through the motions.

***

The house was lit in a yellow glow that seeped from around the edges of the curtains like a sliver of hope. I stashed my dirt bike next to the truck and made my way slowly toward the porch carrying my peace offering.

I’d hid out in the barn for hours after Summer left. At first, I’d done it because she’d pissed me off. That had led me to exchange my soda for a cold beer. Then, the more I thought about it, the more I realized she’d been right. So, I’d stayed and pondered the state of my life—and switched back to soda. In the end, though, I’d hid because I didn’t know what to do next.

Or if my efforts would even matter.

I sucked in a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and climbed the steps with heavy feet. The knob turned easily and I slipped inside to the sound of the television. Three more steps and I found Jordan sprawled on the couch, a half-empty glass of red wine on the coffee table in front of her. Our eyes met and I had to fight the insane urge to turn and run.

Her blonde hair was piled high on her head in a messy bun. I watched as she reached for the remote and muted the sound. My eyes wandered the length of her body as she moved, lingering on the smooth stretch of never-ending legs in her tiny shorts. She was gorgeous—so far out of my league it was hilarious.

“Hey,” I said, swinging my gaze back to hers.

“Hey.”

I could feel the awkward silence descending so I pressed on. “How was work?”

“Good, the framing is on track to be up by Saturday. The lines for the HVAC should go in next week.”

“Impressive,” I said with no idea whether it was or not.

“Thanks. How was work for you?” she asked and I watched her glance from me to the bag I carried.

“Spent most of it underneath a stubborn tractor so … the usual.” I attempted a smile but failed. Jordan did the same. The tension in the room was thick and nothing like the normally enjoyable kind that always seemed to zap between us like kinetic energy.

“I got a letter today,” she said and the unexpected subject change threw me.

“What kind of letter?”

“More of an invitation. From my—from Sharon,” she said and a small line of displeasure formed between her eyes.

“How did she know where you lived?”

Summer’s mouth quirked wryly. “I suspect Helen.”

I rolled my eyes. “Probably. What did she want?”

“She wants me to come out to the house this weekend.”

I waited, but she didn’t elaborate. “Will you go?”

Jordan bit her lip and then blurted, “Will you come with me?”

I hesitated, trying to decide whether to be pleased or worried she would ask me that after last Friday. “Are you sure that’s wise?” I asked.

“Casey,” Jordan said, but then she stopped.

I had no idea what that meant, but in case I’d just made things worse—I needed to make my play. I took a step forward at the same time Jordan stood.

“We should talk—” we both said in unison.

Jordan smiled and rounded the couch, coming to stand in front of me with hands clasped. “Me first. I’m sorry about Friday,” she said, and I had to shift my weight to keep from falling over in shock.

I’d come here tonight fully expecting to have to battle for forgiveness. And now she was the one apologizing? God, women were confusing.

“I’m sorry too,” I said. “I should’ve told you—”

Jordan shook her head, cutting me off. “It wasn’t your place, and I can see why you wouldn’t want to anyway. I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said and you were right. I keep letting my pre-judgments get in the way. I’m sorry.”

“Jordan, I get it. You have good reason to be wary, but I’m not your grandparents. Not everyone here is going to disappoint you.”

“I know,” she said quietly, but I had a feeling she didn’t quite believe the last part. “Will you come with me this weekend?”

“If Wayne’s there—”

“We’ll handle it,” she assured me. I wanted to ask what that meant, exactly, since I was pretty sure I’d handled it Friday—and look how well that had gone over. But I decided to let it pass for now.

“All right. It’s a date.”

“And the bet…?” she asked, her cornflower-blue eyes searching mine.

I fought the urge to wince. The fucking bet. Did she not understand I didn’t want anything to do with betting on our failure? But I knew what she was asking. If I said no now, I would be saying no to anything happening between us. And I couldn’t bring myself to do that, not now. Instead, I winked. “A deal’s a deal, sugar.”

Jordan bit her lip on a smile. Something strange pinged in my chest.

I held up the bag I’d brought home with me. “I bought you something,” I added and Jordan’s expression lit. She reached for the bag but I held it out of reach.

She sniffed. “What is it?”

I led her back to the couch and waited until she sat before I started pulling out the contents.

“Fried chicken?” she asked, her brows lifting.

“You have something against poultry?” I asked, kicking myself for not thinking of the possibility before.

“Not at all,” Jordan said and I relaxed. 

I arranged the meal in front of us on the coffee table and then grabbed the movie case, stashing it out of sight before she could read the title.

“Dinner and a movie, small town style,” I said, sliding the movie into the player. I sat next to her on the couch. “Wait,” I said before she could tear into the mashed potatoes.

I handed her a red and white checkered cloth napkin I’d borrowed from the Staffords. Mazie, their cook, had clucked and hovered when she’d found out who it all was for. I’d never made this kind of fuss over a girl before and she knew it.

“Southern dinner, country napkins, anything else?” Jordan asked. The movie began to play its opening credits, and I pointed at the screen. Jordan read the title and laughed. “No way. You like Nicholas Sparks movies?”

I did my best to look wounded. “This story is one of my favorites, I’ll have you know.”

Jordan’s laughter died off and I looked up, a bite of mac and cheese halfway to my mouth. “What is all this?” she asked.

“Ever since you’ve arrived, and probably even before that, you’ve been shown nothing but the negative clichés of small town living,” I said. “You said yourself you want to put all those pre-judgments behind you.” I gestured to the spread before us. “What better way than to let me show you all of the fun things we have to offer?”

Jordan didn’t answer, but something in her expression shifted. The amusement faded and the air between us charged and heated. The tension I’d come to crave once again sprang to life.

“There is one positive I’ve already discovered,” she said slowly, setting her fork aside as she spoke.

My heart rate jumped as she crawled across the cushions toward me. “What’s that?” I asked, but the words were hoarse.