A Bet Worth Making (Grayson County #2)

by Heather Hildenbrand

  Instead of thinking too much about it, I eyed Goose, plotting my next move.

  “Now look, as exciting and pressing as this wager is, it’ll have to wait until Monday,” Frank said.

  “Why is that?” I asked.

  Frank looked at me with a smirk of his own. That particular expression on him always made me edgy. “I rented that room out for you, son,” he said.

  “You rented the room? As in, the one in my house?” I asked, forgetting the sip of beer I’d been about to take.

  “You’re welcome,” Frank said.

  “Why the hell would you do a thing like that without asking me?”

  “Because you were here fiddling around and your potential roommate was standing in front of me down at the garage, stranded, with a dead Nissan. Jordan needed a room and you have one so—”

  “Simple as that, huh? Hell, Frank, is this Jordan even normal? Or how would you know since you’ve known the character less than five minutes.”

  Frank glared. “More normal than I can say for you right now.”

  “What is that supposed to mean? I’m the same as I’ve always been.”

  “You’ve been sulky for weeks,” Frank shot back. And something in the truth of his words, and the directness with which he said them, pricked at me. But I couldn’t admit that.

  “I’m not sulky. I’ve just been … We’ve been busy getting the machines ready and doing the spring planting,” I said.

  “It’s been since before that,” Frank argued.

  “Before that was winter. Everyone’s sulky in winter. Winter’s sulky.”

  “You need to get yourself together,” he said quietly. In that voice. The one that, even though he hadn’t birthed me, was every inch my parent.

  Well, shit. What did that even mean? Had he found out what I was doing in my off-time? I’d been pretty careful about keeping the side work bit to myself, but maybe he’d found out after all. Either way, this was not a conversation I wanted to have.

  “I am together, Frank,” I said carefully. “I’ve got a job, a place, friends, family. How much more ‘together’ do you want?”

  Frank frowned. “Maybe together wasn’t the right word. I want you to be … satisfied.”

  Now it was my turn to frown as I chewed on his words. I was satisfied, wasn’t I? I had all those things I’d just named off. Plus the side bit with the dirt bikes that he didn’t even know about, which was technically my dream job. If I wasn’t satisfied, something was wrong with me.

  “And you think renting the empty room in my house will satisfy me?” I asked.

  Frank’s lips twitched. A gesture so quickly there and gone, I wasn’t sure I’d actually seen it happen. “Maybe. It’ll at least shake things up. You need some excitement of your own.”

  And there it was. That niggling little feeling I’d been ignoring for weeks now. Always made worse by the sickly sweet moments between Ford and Summer, though I hadn’t realized it until this moment.

  I didn’t begrudge Summer or Ford their happiness. Hell, I’d been the one pushing them together when they’d been stubborn early on. Even a blind man could see they were made for each other. But it had also made me realize how little of that I’d ever had for myself.

  “I am satisfied, Frank. Remember my date with Lyla last month?” I tried going for the joke. “I mean, not that you want me sharing the details with you. But if you insist…”

  Frank continued to bore holes in me with that “parent” gaze. It was a little scary that he was so good at it considering he’d technically adopted me. But then again, he was my dad’s brother so maybe he’d come by it honest. And Lord knew he’d had enough practice with all my shenanigans.

  “Case, don’t make me throttle you. I know you’re grown, but I’ll do it if it’s the only way to get your attention.”

  “You have my attention,” I said wearily, suddenly tired of this … intervention. Tired of this damn tractor and this conversation. And this day. I was tired of a lot of things lately. And therein lay the problem. “And I am satisfied. I’ve just had stuff on my mind,” I added before either one could argue it further. “So, I’ll be sure to take the weekend and get it together. And in the meantime, I’ll see about renting the room. You got an address for this Jordan person?”

  “Yours,” Frank answered.

  I stopped moving. “What?”

  “I may have included a ride to your place in the roommate offer,” he said slowly. For the first time since the conversation began, he had the decency to look contrite.

  “I don’t believe this.” I dropped my empty beer into the trash, heading for the door. I didn’t even bother asking Frank to lock up behind me. I knew he would anyway. He always made the rounds after hours to make sure everything got stowed properly.

  “I saw your truck there. I thought you were home or I never would’ve—” Frank fell silent as I strode off.

  I’d ridden the bike over this morning, opting to leave my pickup at the house, which was damn perfect because, right now, I wanted speed. I wanted power underneath me. I wanted to make a statement. And nothing said “go to hell” like spinning tires on a dirt bike.

  I went for the Suzuki parked beside the shed without a backward glance. I yanked the dirt bike off the stand and threw a leg over, bringing my knee up and then dropping my heel hard on the lever. The engine stuttered and then fell silent. Un-uh. You better fire up, sweetheart. We have a point to make, you and me.

  I dropped my heel again. This time with more of my weight underneath it. The engine stuttered and growled, then sang.

  I centered myself on the seat, yanked in the clutch, and stomped on the gears. Neutral to first with a satisfying click. Time to spit dirt.

  With a screech and a jolt, the bike shot forward. Over the wind, I heard my phone ring. To drown it out, I dropped a gear, revved the engine hard, and shot off, a trail of dust in my wake.

  Chapter Three

  Jordan

  By five, I’d already mentally cussed this Casey chick about sixteen times. One involved a particularly creative version of the word lady-whore combined with the f-bomb. Gavin would’ve liked that one. Too bad I had negative three cell bars out here or I could’ve called him and repeated it aloud.

  And why not say it out loud, anyway? Hell, why not yell it?

  I looked around. Other than my butt holding down the top step of the porch there wasn’t another soul within earshot. In fact, I was pretty sure if I listened hard enough, I’d hear the paint peeling on the barn across the way.

  I wasn’t usually a potty mouth—Gavin was my family’s resident sailor and he definitely cursed like one—but desperate times…

  Screw it. I sucked in a breath and when I let it out, a string of inventive curse words came with it.

  “Not bad for a city girl.”

  The unexpected voice had me jumping up, caught between a fight and a flight stance. I whirled and found a pretty brunette smiling at me from the corner of the house. She came forward slowly, apparently realizing I’d reacted like a cornered animal. I forced my shoulders to relax and told my conscience to shut up. No way was I going to feel bad for cussing this chick out when she’d taken almost two hours to show.

  “Any of that aimed at anyone in particular?” she asked, still wearing the friendly smile.

  I stood, brushing the dirt from my butt. “Um.”

  Her expression softened to one of sympathy—and understanding. “You been out here long?” The question sounded a bit rhetorical, which meant she knew exactly how long I’d been here.

  “Long enough to get hot and thirsty and tired of waiting,” I said, keeping the words clipped. Just this side of “bitchy.” It was a tone I’d often heard Mom use with us kids when she wanted to make us feel three inches tall. And it always did the job.

  “Yeah, figured.” She sighed. “Sorry about that. Come on, I’ll let you in. See what Casey’s got in the fridge.” She pushed past where I sat, headed for the front door, but I hung back, my brow
s knitting.

  “Wait. You’re not Casey?”

  She laughed and shook her head, her honey highlights rustling this way and that. “Not even close.” Why was that funny? “I’m Summer Stafford. I live down the road.”

  She extended her hand and I shook it slowly. “Jordan,” I said, unsure whether to be disappointed or relieved hers wasn’t the neck I wanted to ring. “But you have a key?”

  As proof, Summer twisted the key in the lock and opened the door. “Yeah, Casey and I are family. Wait, you think—” She spun and stared at me, a slow smile spreading over her face before quickly disappearing in favor of a very blank expression. What the hell?

  “I think what?” I prompted.

  “You thought I was Casey?” The blank expression remained but a glimmer of something flashed behind her eyes. Amusement? Whatever it was, it put my back up.

  “So?”

  Summer shrugged. “Frank told you what you needed to know I guess.”

  She went inside, flicking on switches for lights and fans as she went. I followed her down a short hallway that offered a glimpse of a sagging but comfortable-looking couch and a big-screen TV in the living room. Not much in the way of décor but hey, not everyone was into that. And what little was there wasn’t bad. Just … basic. At least it was clean.

  We turned right and ended up in a bright kitchen with an L-shaped counter and yellow wallpaper with tiny sunflowers bordering the room. It wasn’t bad—not counting the pile of dishes in the sink or the two slices of pizza sitting inside an open cardboard delivery box on the stove, of course. I didn’t want to think about how long it might’ve been there, but at least it wasn’t moldy.

  “Frank didn’t tell me jack,” I said, picking up where we’d left off outside. I folded my arms and planted my feet in the center of the room so she couldn’t escape. “Including the part about having to wait on the porch in the heat all afternoon.”

  “Right. Again, sorry. Miscommunication on Frank’s part. He doesn’t always think ahead. Casey got held up, which is why he called me to let you in. You can help yourself to anything in the fridge while you wait.”

  Without waiting for an answer, she opened the fridge and snatched two cans of soda from inside. “Here,” she said, pushing one into my hands. “Come on, I’ll show you the room. If you don’t like it, I’ll take you back to town. No harm done.”

  It was better than sitting on the porch. With nothing else to do, I cracked my soda and followed.

  Halfway down the back hall, the AC finally penetrated the layers of my skin and cooled my brain enough to process the conversation. She’d said her name was Summer Stafford. Frank told me about her earlier. And I remembered the name from our emails now that I was thinking clearly. Shit! The girl I’d almost accosted was my potential client for the new build I’d come here for. And she was family to Casey?

  Dammit.

  I couldn’t be rude now. Even if I didn’t take the room.

  Summer stopped at the end of the hall and gestured to the open doorway in front of her. “Room’s here,” she said.

  “Thanks.” I stepped into the space, surprised to find it clean and blessedly cool. The furniture was minimal, a full bed, a stained-wood dresser, and a comfy-looking chair near the window. It was furnished down to sheets and pillows, a good thing considering the only thing I’d brought was a single bag of clothes and toiletries.

  “It’s … not bad,” I said, unable to hide some of my surprise. After hours of waiting and then the state of the kitchen, I’d expected a lot worse.

  “Don’t get excited yet. The bathroom’s shared,” Summer said with an apologetic look.

  I shook my head. “I had to share with my younger brother growing up, so I’m not worried.”

  Summer’s expression sharpened and quickly became unreadable. What was it with these people and their reactions? It was like every thought became written on their face. Except it was all in German or something. I decided to change direction. Level the playing field.

  “So, I don’t know what Frank told you about me, but I’m Jordan DeWalter, the architect. We have an appointment tomorrow about your new construction project.”

  “Oh, right. Jordan!” Summer’s smile lit her face, completely erasing whatever preoccupation she’d been harboring behind the scenes. “Of course! I thought your name sounded familiar but I wasn’t even thinking about…” She made a waving motion with her hand. “Lots of plans going at once,” she said with a laugh.

  I frowned. Had my last name sounded familiar for a different reason? “Don’t worry about it,” I said, shoving away suspicion.

  “So, you’re planning on staying in the area then? After our consultation tomorrow?”

  Oh boy. Sticky-icky. “Well, yeah, I guess I was banking on it turning into a longer project,” I admitted. “And I have some personal business in the area.” Darn. I hadn’t wanted to admit that part, but I couldn’t have her thinking I was so cocky I’d assumed she’d give me the job. It wasn’t like that. I had to be here anyway. The job was a bonus.

  Plus, I had nowhere else to go. But she didn’t need to know that either.

  Summer smiled brightly. “Gotcha. Well then this works out pretty well.”

  I searched her words and tone for any trace of sarcasm and came up empty. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

  “In that case, I hope you take the room.” Her eyes widened a bit and she rushed on, “I mean, obviously I can’t officially say that until after tomorrow’s meeting, but I mean, off the record. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you via email and your portfolio is really impressive. I’d love to have you around longer than just a single consult.” Summer smiled and I knew she meant it.

  Hearing it warmed me. My frustration cleared and I smiled back at her, genuine for the first time today. “Thanks. I met Ford earlier in town. He helped with my car trouble, which is how I hooked up with Frank…” I trailed off wondering if that sounded weird to anyone but me. “Anyway, I’m looking forward to talking to you both officially,” I added. “In the meantime…” I cast another look around, my spirits lifting a few inches. If it meant getting to work on the project, I could at least see this through. Meet the infamous Casey and go from there. “I guess I’ll just hang out here and wait for Casey. See what’s what.”

  Summer nodded. “Sounds good. I’ve gotta run. Dinner plans. But if you need anything at all just follow the path around the corner by the garage. It’ll take you to Heritage Plantation and someone’s always around.”

  “Garage?” I echoed, confused.

  “Barn,” she clarified and I nodded.

  “Thanks.” Apparently the two were one and the same out here. And it was good to know help was that close. Frank had told me to call him if I needed a ride, but with no service out here, that hadn’t been an option.

  “No problem. See you tomorrow.”

  “See you.” I walked Summer as far as the kitchen and waved as she let herself out.

  I watched her go, considering making myself at home inside with the AC while I waited, but manners had me finally opting against it. This wasn’t my place just yet. I couldn’t just take up residence on a stranger’s couch no matter how angry I was at being made to wait. I drained the last of my soda and smiled to myself, remembering how Summer had said I could help myself to whatever was in the fridge.

  I trashed the empty soda can and returned to the fridge, this time opting for a beer. Then I went back out the porch to wait.

  Chapter Four

  Casey

  The short bike ride helped. A burst of wind in my hair, dust at my heels, the quiet cleared my head enough to see past Frank’s meddling. I needed that room rented. Since Ford had moved into Dean’s old camper to get some alone time with his fiancée—damned hippie and his love for roughing it—I’d missed the extra income and the easy way it fueled my bike-building hobby.

  And in the months since he’d moved out, what had been only a hobby before had been niggling at me so often, I had a mind
to turn it into a business. For now, the side work was nothing more than oil changes and tire replacements and the occasional rebuild. But maybe one day, it could be more. If I had a place … And the time.

  I’d already packed my barn to the brim with spare frames and tires and project materials. I’d even stashed a bunch of parts in an unused shed on Dean’s farm. It was a gamble, but since I had the only key and we didn’t store anything else there, I’d kept it under wraps so far, only going there on weekends to grab things and bring them home.

  I knew if I told Frank, he would just invite me to piggyback off his shop in town again, but I also knew from experience that’s not what I wanted. If I were going to do this, it would have to be mine. Not an add-on or space-sharing over at Frank’s place. A dedicated garage space. A sign hanging out front with my name on it. The whole nine yards.

  An idea like that was big, especially for me. But it would mean leaving Dean in the lurch at the farm and Frank high and dry at the shop. I didn’t know how to quit family. So I kept it to myself. They wouldn’t have taken me seriously anyway. Half the time, I didn’t take myself seriously.

  I knew what they’d say if I brought it up. Just like the time I’d wanted to start a go-cart business or the mobile swimming pool venture … Yeah, that had gone over real well. I’d been talking about various projects and ideas for so long they all just smiled and nodded now. Summer encouraged me, but I knew she didn’t really expect me to go through with any of it. Not after so much hot air.

  But this felt different. A custom dirt bike shop with some motocross race builds on the side. Maybe even an employee down the line for general motorcycle mechanics. I already had the contacts from my early high school years when I’d raced Motocross. A built-in customer base just waiting for me to get brave enough to go public.

  It was a solid idea. One that made me excited and, after years of status quo, that was something. I’d even spent some days off crunching numbers, setting up a budget, and cataloging my spare parts. If Frank knew that, he’d probably have a coronary. But I didn’t want to spoil the follow-through with a bunch of empty talk. So, for now, I’d rent out the room and save my pennies. Which meant I needed to get home and face this Jordan character. And make it work.