A Bet Worth Making (Grayson County #2)

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A Bet Worth Making (Grayson County #2) Page 7

by Heather Hildenbrand


  “It’s okay,” she said.

  “No, it’s not. When I said I wanted to know about you … I didn’t mean to pry.” I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. I didn’t want to say it. The words always sounded like an invitation for pity. But I needed to even the playing field. “My parents died when I was a baby. I can’t remember them. Uncle Frank raised me as his own so I got a good deal, but I get it. Anyway, I’m sorry.”

  I got to my feet, headed for the door—suddenly, mindless television didn’t sound so bad comparatively—but Jordan jumped up. Her hand closed over my wrist, and I turned back. “Don’t go,” she said.

  It wasn’t the words that froze me in place. It was the look in her eyes. Tears swam in her sapphire blues and behind them the wall came down just long enough for me to see the pain. The real Jordan—the one she was bent on covering up.

  “I’ve been a real bitch to you, and I’m sorry,” she said, looking up at me through thick lashes.

  I stared at her for a moment longer and then I let a smile form at the corners of my mouth. “I probably deserved it,” I said and earned a quiet laugh that ended abruptly.

  Her expression fell, her brows creasing in concern. “How did they die?”

  “Car accident. They’d gone out for a date night, the first they’d managed to schedule after having me, and a drunk driver sent them over the guard rail on a mountain road. They didn’t survive the fall.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said and her hand tightened on my wrist. I slipped it free and held it in mine.

  “Me too,” I said.

  Tension, thick as a humid August, hung between us. I didn’t dare move, not even to lean closer. I ached to kiss her, but I knew it’d be a mistake.

  Not yet, I told myself.

  Okay, maybe just a hug…

  My phone rang and I cursed out loud at the timing. Jordan smiled wryly and stepped away while I scowled at my caller ID and then pressed the phone to my ear as I answered. “Frank, this better be life or death.”

  On the other end of the line, Frank sighed. “Well, kid, it’s the second.”

  “What?” I asked, alarmed.

  Jordan stared at me, brows raised in question while Frank went on. “I had a chance to look at the Nissan and … well, tell Jordan I’m really sorry for her loss.”

  “Shit,” I muttered. “Uh-uh. You can be the messenger on this one,” I told Frank, and before he could argue, I held out the phone to Jordan.

  “What?” Jordan asked, biting her lip.

  I just shook my head and shoved the phone at her. “Frank for you,” I said simply.

  Jordan took the phone and I waited while she talked to Frank, mostly listening and murmuring, “I see” between long pauses.

  When she was done, she handed the phone back, and I tried to read her expression, but it was curiously blank.

  “Cars down here run a little cheaper,” I began. “If you want, I can check out the lemon lot over by my friend’s store—”

  She ran a hand through her hair. “No, thanks, I’ll—I’ll figure it out.”

  “You have that car a while?”

  Her smile wobbled. “My dad bought it for me.”

  I nodded, at a loss. For all her bravado and attitude, she looked damn fragile when she talked about her dad. They must’ve been close. I took a deep breath and hoped whatever truce we’d struck earlier still held. “You like burgers?”

  She blinked, the unexpected question no doubt distracting her from whatever trip down memory lane she’d been on. “Yeah.”

  “Good. I’m shit in the kitchen but I can man a grill.” I waved at her to join me as I headed for the hall. “Come on. I’ll let you make a side dish with vegetables in it or something.”

  I didn’t wait. I wanted to see if she followed. For a moment, I was the only one walking through the hallway and my chest tightened in worry that she’d called my bluff.

  But a second later, I heard her footsteps behind me.

  I exhaled, and went to fire up the grill.

  ***

  Over burgers and sweet potato fries, we ran the gamut of childhood memory highlights. It seemed like safe territory for both of us, and my stories of trying to pull one over on teachers made Jordan laugh. We ended up back in Jordan’s room while I hung a couple of her framed design pictures. When I finished, Jordan sat cross-legged on her bed and I lounged across from her, feet hanging sideways off the mattress, as I finished the remnants of the popcorn I’d made while Jordan had cleaned up from dinner earlier.

  Somewhere in the midst of it all, Jordan had thawed and opened up, joking and talking like we were just a guy and a girl hanging out. I tried not to look too damn pleased with myself over it.

  “Wait, you actually got pantsed in front of the entire basketball playoff crowd—willingly?” Jordan asked, disbelief clear.

  I topped her glass off with the last of the bottle of wine and handed it to her. I had cold beer in the fridge but damn if I was leaving this room for any reason right now. We were finally getting along.

  “A bet is a bet.” I shrugged.

  “That’s crazy,” she said.

  “If you want proof, ask anyone you meet on the street in Grayson,” I said. “Unfortunately, they’ll corroborate.”

  “I’m sure it’s something they’ll never forget.” Jordan laughed and raised her glass. “And that makes you the winner of the most embarrassing moment. I can’t top that.”

  “Let me guess, popular crowd? Never picked on?”

  “Ha. More like, my older brother would kick your ass if you tried,” she said. “He made sure none of the normal hazing took place.”

  “Sounds like a good deal.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Not when he also scares away all the boys.”

  “Ah. Double-edged sword. Summer used to say the same thing.”

  “You two are close,” she said, tilting her head in curiosity.

  It was a question I heard often. “Sibling close,” I agreed, with emphasis on the sibling part. “Frank and her dad, Dean, are buds from way back. She and I grew up together so we fought like cats and dogs but protected each other against anyone else. Us against the world, I guess.”

  “Sounds exactly like siblings,” she agreed.

  “What about you?” I asked. “Just one brother?”

  Jordan snorted. “One’s enough. But yes. Just us now. And my mom…” A shadow passed over Jordan’s face and I could guess where her thoughts were headed.

  “Do they ride dirt bikes in Connecticut?” I asked, changing the subject before the mood went dark again.

  “Uh, that’s a definite no,” she said.

  “So, tomorrow morning. You and me. Dirt bike ride.”

  “No way, speed racer. Not happening,” she said, leaning away as if to ward me off.

  “I won’t go fast,” I promised, already knowing full well I planned to break that promise straight off.

  “Don’t you have to work?”

  I shrugged. “I make my own hours, like you.”

  “Speaking of hours, I’m supposed to meet with Summer and finalize the blueprints for the house. We start on permits next week.”

  “Rain check then.”

  She nodded and I knew she was just humoring me as she echoed, “Rain check.”

  Our eyes met and held. Once again, her energy seemed to eclipse everything else in the room, including coherent thought. I found myself leaning closer before I’d even made the conscious decision. Just one more foot of space separating our mouths and—

  Jordan stood up abruptly, the mattress shifting underneath me, so that I had to catch myself before face-planting in the space she’d left behind. The popcorn bowl tumbled precariously and I grabbed it at the last second.

  “I better get some sleep. Early meeting, like I said.” Jordan scurried to the door and held it open.

  It was a tactic I recognized all too well. A clear message.

  I didn’t argue or try to prolong the evening. I’d learned
enough about Jordan in the short time since we’d met to realize I’d pushed her too far too fast.

  “Sure thing.” I stood and made my way to the hall, stepping over a pile of clothes on my way. Feet just over the threshold, I turned back and met Jordan’s stare but she looked away before I could read what was there.

  “Thanks for tonight. It was fun,” she said.

  I hooked a hand in my belt loop and nodded. “We’ll do it again sometime.” I waited to see if she’d ask me when or suggest something specific. But she didn’t reply.

  Instead, she tilted her head in a good night and, at a loss, I did the same. I recognized the distance for what it was: her armor hardening around her once again. Slowly, the door closed and clicked shut, sealing me out and Jordan in. Just like her heart.

  Chapter Nine

  Jordan

  Two weeks of steady planning and applying for permits and I finally knew what it meant to chase your tail. My days were full of paperwork and applications and polite requests to the employees down at the city planning office and all to no avail. No matter how many times I filled out their forms, I still didn’t have what I needed. And I didn’t have anyone around to ask for help either.

  Casey and Summer and even Ford had all disappeared to finish the last round of what Casey had vaguely called “spring planting.” I barely saw them, communicating the next steps for the house with Summer mostly through emails and texts.

  Casey and I, on the other hand, barely spoke at all. He’d backed off since that night in my room when I’d rejected the kiss. He’d stopped strutting around in ripped clothes and confident smirks. In fact, he’d been decidedly distracted when we were together. He still flirted but it was almost half-hearted, like he didn’t expect me to take him up on any of it—or maybe he just no longer cared if I did.

  That was good, I told myself. His attempt to kiss me had been tempting but at the last second, my grief had stolen my desire. It was too soon. Or my heart was too broken. I didn’t know which.

  Either way, Casey’s absence gave me plenty of time to settle in—and with some peace and quiet to boot. Even Mom had calmed down and stopped blowing up my phone. I guess she was finally convinced I wasn’t doing this out of some nervous breakdown or a vendetta to seek some sort of twisted revenge on my grandparents. It wasn’t their fault Dad died. In my opinion, they didn’t deserve credit for his life either.

  “I’m not mad that you didn’t tell me when you were going. I just want to make sure you’re okay, honey,” Mom had said when we’d spoken last week, and I suspected that was her pain point. Not that I’d come here without telling her first, but that I still hadn’t talked to her—or anyone—about Dad’s death.

  I knew Gavin was in her ear, telling her how worried he was, which only made it worse. Brothers were good for something, I just wasn’t sure what. Mom had come around, though, and I was glad. She’d taken Dad’s death harder than anyone. I’d kept my mission here a secret from her on purpose, half-terrified she’d want to come with me. That wouldn’t have ended well.

  Now, with Mom pacified, my cell was quiet. None of my former coworkers had contacted me since I’d left the firm. I’d stopped answering weeks ago for my friends back in Hartford. They all wanted to cluck their tongue and insist I talk about my feelings. Screw that.

  I’d just wanted some distance. Now, for the first time in months, everything felt quiet.

  All except for those permits. I was pretty sure Grayson’s city planner’s office was giving me the runaround for being an outsider. Wrong forms, right forms filled out incorrectly, wrong fees paid, wrong survey submitted. Everything that could hold me up did.

  The car jostled as I rolled off the main road and onto the packed gravel that led to the lone ranch-style at the end I now called home. Overhead, the blue sky and white puffy clouds were so misleading. It was almost wet outside with humidity. Sticky, gross humidity.

  And I’d just gotten another permit back. Denied for incorrect survey submitted. Apparently, it was supposed to be notarized? My ass…

  My phone rang and I glanced over at the caller ID. I bit my lip, debating whether to answer. I wasn’t in the mood for another lecture. After the fourth ring, I turned down the volume on Casey’s truck radio—country, the only station that came in strong enough to hear past the fuzz—and answered my phone. “Hi, Gav,” I said, one hand on the wheel.

  “It’s Friday.”

  “Did you call me to state the obvious?” The reply came out harsher than I’d intended.

  “Whoa, there, tiger. Ease up. I’m calling to tell you it’s the weekend and I’ve got some time off … so if you want some company to do your big reveal over at Sharon and John’s, I can swoop down and escort you.”

  I sighed. “I’m not a chickenshit, Gav.”

  “I never said you were.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “I just meant that you might need a ride. You know, since the Nissan is no longer with us?”

  “I’ve commandeered this fine pickup,” I said, tapping the steering wheel even though he couldn’t see me.

  “Right. A loaner from Casey. Speaking of which, you mentioned your roommate situation but the details have been a little hard to come by.”

  I grimaced but kept my words teasing and light. “Maybe you just weren’t listening.”

  Not exactly true. I just wasn’t ready to divulge the fact that Casey didn’t have a vagina. Gavin had assumed it—like I had at first—and I hadn’t corrected him. A lecture on male roommates wasn’t something I wanted to hear especially from my overprotective brother.

  “That must be it.” Gavin chuckled. “What gives, little sis? You sound frazzled.”

  “I’m not … This job,” I said finally. “I know I’m getting the run-around and I know it’s because I’m from out of town and that’s so stupid. They aren’t better than me or—or— allowed to do that just because of where I’m from.” I huffed and Gavin was silent so long I wondered if the line had gone dead. “Hello?”

  “I hear you,” he said quietly and I frowned at whatever he wasn’t saying.

  “What is it?” I prompted.

  “Well … I mean … You’re pissed they’re treating you differently because of where you’re from,” he said slowly.

  “So?”

  “Well … Aren’t you doing that with your judgment of small-town people? Specifically, our grandparents? You weren’t even born yet when they had the falling out with Mom and Dad. You’ve never heard their side of the—”

  “Point taken. Pot. Kettle,” I said sharply and swung the truck into the driveway before stomping on the brake. I pulled up a little faster than I intended and rocked back into my seat as I came to a full stop.

  “Look, it sounds like you’re just letting this whole thing get to you before you’ve even faced it. I think it’s time, and I think you’ll feel better for it. But if you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

  “You know I do,” I said quietly. “This is for me and me alone. Dad wanted it that way and I’m going to honor his last wish. But you’re right. I’ve put it off long enough. I’ll go tomorrow. I swear. And I’ll call you after.”

  Again, the silence, and I knew he didn’t believe me.

  “I said I swear,” I repeated.

  He didn’t answer and, once again, I could tell he didn’t want to say whatever he was thinking.

  “What, Gavin?” I stared out the truck’s windshield to the barn as I pictured Gavin hesitating, biting his lip like he did when he was lost in thought. I could almost see the expression he wore now, that one when he knew he was about to say something to piss me off.

  “Just … Don’t swear when you go there, okay? Might get you off on the wrong foot.”

  “You’re impossible,” I groaned and ended the call.

  I tossed the phone onto the seat and immediately reached for the key again. It sputtered and then turned over. I didn’t even bother with reverse as I did a wide donut back out of the yar
d. Tomorrow was D-day and I didn’t even have to check the fridge to know we don’t have nearly enough booze for tonight.

  Chapter Ten

  Casey

  The moment I killed the dirt bike’s engine, the music hit me. I looked up and found my kitchen window and front door hanging wide open with indie rock pouring from the exposed screens. Jordan’s voice filtered out in a low whine that lilted heavily on the high notes in the dying daylight. I grinned and headed for the house.

  On the porch, I stomped my boots and did my best to brush off the worst of the day’s loose dirt—but it didn’t do much good. Spring planting was over, thank baby Jesus. These long days had been more torture than usual even with the midafternoon trips to the shed where I’d been hiding my latest project. Farming was not my thing, but to top it off, the county’s hottest new resident sat in my house without me for two weeks straight.

  I was either an idiot or really loyal to Dean Stafford.

  Probably both.

  The screen door’s hinges screeched lightly as I entered. It clacked shut behind me but Jordan’s sing-along didn’t break stride. A quick scan of the living room brought it up empty—except for the three empty beer bottles that decorated my coffee table.

  Day drinking. Huh. An unexpected turn of events.

  Even more intrigued, I crept carefully to the kitchen doorway and peered inside.

  Jordan stood over a pot on the stove, stirring and shaking her ass in time to the brooding beat of the cranked music. Her blonde hair hung in loose waves down her back, and if not for the small slivers of fabric peeking through her locks as she swayed, it might’ve looked like she was naked from the waist up. Not to mention from the thighs down … Her honey skin shone in the dull light, her frayed jean shorts drawing attention high up where strands hung loose from the hem. My erection tightened in my jeans at the sight of her.

  Maybe I’d been safer working late after all.

  Jordan dropped the spoon and twisted, grabbing a beer off the counter and tipping it back in a generous swig. Her head dipped and I saw the moment she spotted me. Her eyes widened and I was surprised she managed not to choke on her beer before she spoke.

 

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