“Ivy League,” he repeated. “College. It must’ve been one of those top-tier schools that educated and enlightened you until you were so high above the rest of us, you could so easily look down on the world.”
Okay, I deserved that one. “University of Pennsylvania,” I answered.
“UPenn? Really?” Casey asked, surprise coloring his words. When he spoke again, his demeanor shifted, the irritation dissolving. “I have a friend that went there before law school. Nice place.”
“You’ve been there?” I asked.
He cast a sideways glance at me, one brow lifted. “Is it so shocking to think I’ve left Grayson and seen the rest of the world?”
My cheeks heated at how easily he’d read me. I stared absently at my beer, unable to look up while I tried to think of something to say. But for reasons I couldn’t fathom, he let me off the hook.
“What did you study?” Casey asked.
I found him studying me with no trace of judgment and realized I’d been way too hard on him. I was a guest—standing in his kitchen, drinking his beer—and I’d done nothing but insult the guy and his whole town. My dad would have tossed a dishrag at me by now and muttered about manners. I decided to make more of an effort. “I graduated with a Bachelors in Architecture last spring,” I said.
“Buildings, huh? Any kind in particular?”
“I studied city planning and interned at a firm that did urban design, but I really love restoration and classic design. In fact, I’m working on starting my own place that specializes,” I said. And because I knew he’d find out anyway, I added, “I’m here to consult for Summer Stafford’s new build. We have our first meeting tomorrow.”
“No shit? Wow,” Casey said. “Summer’s been a broken record about this project for months. Glad she’s finally getting started.”
I smiled at the thought of how excited Summer had been earlier when she’d realized who I was. Practically promised me the job. I had to admit there was a certain level of self-satisfaction, not to mention relief, in that. “It sounds like a fun project.”
“It’ll get Ford out of that camper anyway.”
“Ford, right,” I said, remembering him from town earlier. God, that felt like a lifetime ago. “I met him today in town. You mean he lives in a camper right now?”
“He used to room here, but Dean offered his old camper a while back and Ford towed it up the hill and parked it beside his future home site. I think, despite the lack of amenities it provides, he and Summer wanted their own space.”
“And they’re engaged, right?” I asked, remembering the emails we’d exchanged and the details.
“Wedding’s this September. Hopefully just in time to see your handiwork,” he said, pointing a soapy hand at me.
“No pressure,” I joked.
“I have a feeling you’re a girl who thrives under pressure,” Casey said.
I didn’t answer.
I wasn’t sure if he was flirting again or if he’d just insulted me. Just in case it was the latter, I didn’t want to mess things up. Not when we’d just found some solid footing.
“Did you go to college?” I asked.
“I did two years in Philly at Mechanics Institute of America,” he explained.
“That’s right, you and Frank have that shop in town,” I said, thinking again of my deceased car.
“That’s all Frank,” he said and there was a trace of something—resentment?—before it passed. “I help out when he needs me, when I’m not down at Dean’s beating on that damned tractor.”
“I see.” I wanted to ask him why he did all of that when it didn’t sound like he enjoyed it very much, but I wasn’t about to pry right now.
Casey went back to washing and I went back to pretending not to notice his broad, bare shoulders and the muscles that bunched and rippled along his forearms when he lifted a dish, dripping wet, and set it aside for another.
When had doing the dishes become foreplay?
Casey startled me by suddenly turning away from the sink and opening the fridge. He snagged a fresh beer and walked up to me, holding it out like some sort of peace offering. I took it but he didn’t move.
“Look, I’m not disagreeing with you about small-town thinking. Thing is, that sort of closed-minded mentality can exist anywhere. In my mind, limiting it to residents of places like Grayson is pretty closed-minded in itself. And I don’t think you are. So, something must’ve happened.”
I opened my mouth to argue, to tell him it wasn’t his business, to … something, but he plowed ahead.
“Whatever it was, it’s none of my business, so let’s just leave it at friendly for now. I’m not asking for more although anything less would make the whole roommate thing pretty awkward. What do you say?” He dropped his eyes to my mouth for an instant and then met my gaze. “Can we agree to be friends?”
“I haven’t agreed to the room yet,” I pointed out, my mouth suddenly dry. My heart pounded at his closeness and I forced my eyes not to roam the smooth expanse of his tanned chest and broad shoulders right in front of me.
Slowly, he reached for my beer, cracked it, and took a long swig. I stared—I tried not to, I really did—at the dark circles of his nipples, at the way his pecs stretched when he raised the can to his lips and lowered it again.
A ball of heat formed in my stomach, dropping lower and lower.
Casey’s grin was a little teasing and a lot smug. “If you didn’t want it, you’d have left already.”
Without waiting for an answer, he handed my beer back and returned to the sink, leaving me with my mouth half-open and my thighs tingly.
Why did I suspect he wasn’t only talking about the room?
I thought about telling him no, just to prove a point. But, in this moment, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what that point would be. And I did need a place to stay. At least until I knew if I got the job with Summer. If that didn’t work out, I could make my appearance in Windsor a quick one. In and out and on the road again. Not that the road held any sort of destination on the other end.
But this, a furnished room to sleep in, a place to unpack a little, and far enough from Windsor they wouldn’t be looking over my shoulder sounded nice.
Screw it. At least I had a yummy view in the meantime. Even if he was made up of everything I’d sworn to avoid.
Chapter Six
Casey
I finished the dishes in silence. After our little tiff about Jordan’s ridiculously prejudiced comments regarding small town folks, I was sure she was going to storm out. Hell, at one point, I considered doing the same. I recognized bitterness when I heard it, though, so I let it go. Chalked it up to a bad experience. Obviously someone had burned her. An ex-boyfriend maybe. Not my business.
But the idea of her walking out, of never seeing her again, wasn’t a thought I enjoyed. This girl was sexy and mysterious and the first interesting thing that’d happened to me in a long time. Her outer shell was pretty hard to crack, but the glimpse I’d caught underneath her armor intrigued me. I wanted more. Of what, exactly, I didn’t know yet. But I damn sure wanted the time to figure it out.
So, I’d resorted to flirting. Shameless, unfiltered flirting. And I’d laid it on thick too. It was probably too much. But the look on her face when I’d chugged her beer was priceless. And the fact that she didn’t know what to say after was just as good. I had to bite my lip to keep from grinning while I finished a month’s worth of dirty plates.
When the last of the pans were washed and set aside, I dried my hands and wandered into the living room. Jordan had settled on the far end of the couch—a clear message. The set of her shoulders said she was in deep thought. I knew better than to interrupt that. Curiosity was killing me, though.
I sank onto the center cushion and punched the remote until the TV powered on. Sports channel. Good as anything else. I wasn’t really paying attention anyway. But I leaned back and propped my feet up on the coffee table all the same.
It
wasn’t like I hadn’t seen a stunner before. But shit, girls like Jordan didn’t exactly find their way to Grayson often. Or, more specifically, to my front door. I couldn’t help but shake my head at Frank again. What was that guy cooking up? Did he really think it was that easy to overcome whatever melancholy I’d been fighting these past few months?
Hell, did he think he could deliver me a beautiful girl and I’d what? Fall in love? Settle down? Was that his idea of happiness for me? I definitely needed to set him straight because that was absolutely not happening. Especially with a city slicker like Jordan. Beauty. Brains. Ambition. Nobody like that would ever be interested in what I had to offer—which wasn’t much.
The TV droned on and I snuck a glance over at her. She stared back at me in a way that suggested she’d been doing it for a while now. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth and when she let go, she blew out a breath. I didn’t miss the rise and fall of her ample chest. Eyes up, Case.
“Fine,” Jordan said as if I’d just now asked her a question. “We can be friends and I’ll take the room. But it’s temporary. Just for the summer, and I pay cash.”
I muted the TV and turned in my seat until my eyes met Jordan’s. Clear Caribbean blue framed by wispy blonde hair. I could be all sorts of friendly with that face. “Friends. Just the summer. Cash,” I repeated, nodding. “Sounds good.”
“Two conditions,” she said.
“All right, lay it on me.”
“One, we are not the sort of roommates that walk around half-naked.” She eyed my bare chest pointedly.
I grinned. “Clothing is mandatory. Got it. And the second?”
“No more personal questions.”
I’d seen this one coming from her reaction earlier and already knew I’d have to agree, like it or not. It should’ve made the whole deal even sweeter. Hot blonde sleeping across the hall, doesn’t want to get personal. Anything could happen. But this girl was obviously on a mission to stay platonic and she wasn’t taking any chances. The problem was some part of me was disappointed at her shutting it down before it even began. Part of me wanted to know her story, an extra layer I usually left out of my relationships when possible.
Growing up here, dating the girls in a place like this, you couldn’t escape knowing someone’s story, baggage and all. So when someone came along whose dirty laundry I didn’t know, I usually opted to keep it that way. No strings. No stories.
But Jordan was different. She made me want to know what lay underneath the surface. What brought her here and what made her hate country folks so much. And for the first time in my life, I was determined to earn it. I’d have to be sneaky, though. She clearly wasn’t in the mood to share it willingly.
“Only public questions then?” I asked.
“What?”
I twisted so I could get a better look at her—or give her one last good look at me—and swung my arm over the back of the couch between us. “Public. You know, as opposed to personal.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t even know what that means.”
My fingertips extended just shy of her shoulder and I itched to lean in and let my hand brush her hair. “For example, do you have a boyfriend?”
She frowned. “That’s personal.”
“Not true. I need to know if you’re going to be bringing strange guys into the house. Maybe we should create a system. Like a sock on the door or a special knock or you take Mondays at one and I’ll—”
“I told you earlier, I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Great, just wanted to clarify. In case you’re wondering, I don’t have a girlfriend. See how easy that was? That definitely settles it. Public questions only.”
I grinned and went back to the TV. She scowled, but when I glanced over a minute later, I caught her staring at my bare chest—again. Hell, yeah. This was going to be so much fun.
Chapter Seven
Jordan
The next morning, the stillness inside the house was a direct contradiction to the chaotic aftermath I found in the kitchen. Dirty dishes and spilled egg yolk littered the counter and stove. I stepped cautiously, careful to avoid anything liquidy or spongy underfoot, and grimaced when my foot landed in something soft and not made of tile.
“Yuck,” I muttered.
And I’d thought the kitchen was bad last night. That was nothing. Girls, be careful what you wish for. Clearly, this guy could cook. But cleaning was a whole different—and obviously foreign—concept. The dishes he’d done last night had clearly been for my benefit only.
I managed to find the still-warm coffee pot and a clean-ish mug. Between that and the plain toast I snagged and heated inside an ancient—albeit mostly clean—toaster, I was fed and ready for my interview.
I made it all the way to the front door before I remembered my lack of transportation.
“Shit.”
I did not have time for this. Or energy. Or patience. Or—why was I here? Sure, I’d given up my apartment already and my job at the firm where I’d worked since graduation, but I could go home to Hartford. After Dad’s funeral, I’d announced my decision to start my own firm. Mom had immediately offered my old room, but I’d turned her down, not wanting all the reminders of him. Now I was rethinking that option. At least she had a car that worked.
Besides, I didn’t need all these complications. I could put my plans for my own firm on hold for now and just concentrate on one foot in front of the other. One sensible, reliably-transported foot—
“You going somewhere?”
I jumped and coffee sloshed along the edges of my mug.
Casey stood in the kitchen doorway looking way too at ease in his low-slung jeans and ratty T-shirt. I bit back a smile when I spotted the giant hole in the fabric. “You’re breaking rule number one,” I said.
Casey looked down at his clothes and then back up to me. “No way, shirt, pants, socks even. I’m covered.”
My lips twitched. “I can see your entire left rib cage.”
He smirked. “Not my fault that you’re looking.”
I pretended not to hear him. Or notice his cocky smile. Or the way his eyes just begged me to give in to his shameless flirting and banter right back again. Were all country boys this transparent? Or hot? I wasn’t much for teasing or flirting but Casey made it so easy …
Instead, I took a long sip of the coffee. I’d had worse. “I was going somewhere. Now I’m not.”
“Wow, the shirt worked better than I thought.” Casey’s brows lifted suggestively, and my belly jumped.
“Not even close. No wheels. And bad timing too. I’m supposed to meet Summer about that job.”
Casey hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Heritage Plantation is just through the trees in the back.”
“I’m meeting her at the site. Up on the hill,” I said, using his same vague description from last night.
“Right. Well.” He flicked something shiny and metal into the air. I barely managed to snag it and cup it in my palm. Keys. “You can take the truck. But if you crash it, you owe me fifty thousand dollars.”
“Fifty thousand?” My eyes bulged. The coffee in my mug threatened to spill over. “But it’s not worth that much.”
“Maybe to you. She means the world to me.”
“I don’t have fifty thousand,” I argued.
He shrugged. “Fifty grand or a date. Your choice. Drive careful.” He turned and sauntered down the hall.
It wasn’t worth the time or oxygen to argue. I took the keys.
***
Casey’s truck motored up the hill with quiet diligence. It wasn’t going to win any speed races, but it ran. More than I could say for my Nissan across town. I was grateful for the gesture on his part, not that I would admit that to him. I had a feeling a simple “thank you” to a guy like Casey was the same as an invitation.
Maybe I could wash the truck in exchange. Something that showed my gratitude without having to actually utter the words.
A date, he’d said…
Not happening. No matter how yummy that strip of exposed flesh had looked underneath the sad fabric of that ratty shirt. I wondered if it’d already been ripped or if he’d done it on purpose just to egg me on. Either way, it’d worked. I couldn’t stop thinking about the tanned planes of his smooth abs. And to make matters worse, the cab of his truck smelled like him. Engine grease and gasoline and underneath it all an earthy musk that was hard to expel once it invaded the senses. It was sexy in a rough-and-tumble kind of way. I never would’ve expected it to attract me in the first place.
I tended to go for clean-cut guys. Bookish, smart, ambitious. White collar stuff. Anything that remotely resembled down-home, farm-types were off the radar faster than a stealth plane. It was too risky. Too close to home. I owed it to my parents, to myself, to end up with someone better. To be someone better.
When I was a kid, Mom had always insisted growing up in a small town hadn’t held her back. “I’d met your father,” she’d pointed out. “And he’s a country boy. What’s not to love?” She’d laugh then and I’d laugh with her, but inside, I’d always made a mental note about how she left out the part that her life didn’t really start until she’d moved to the city. Opportunities, growth, a happy family—all of that had come after leaving a town like this one behind.
I didn’t intend to get caught up here, no matter how much I felt drawn to Casey Luck.
Following Summer’s emailed directions, I pulled into the grass and parked the truck next to the powder-blue pickup I recognized as Ford’s. The cab was empty so I grabbed my sketchbook and portfolio and headed down the worn path I recognized from the pictures Summer had sent. It led through a small outcropping of pine and oak. The leaves were bright green and small, still new-looking from a late spring, although the morning air already had a thick, summery layer of humidity to it. Without some rain soon, those leaves didn’t stand a chance. Then again, rain wouldn’t be great for business.
I made it through the trees and, when I emerged on the other side, I stopped short and stared. The email had said the path led to a grassy knoll that extended a couple hundred feet before dropping into a gentle cliffside on one end. That part was right. The camper, like Casey had mentioned, was tucked near the trees, an eyesore compared to the purity of nature.
A Bet Worth Making (Grayson County #2) Page 5