Chapter Twelve
Casey
Jordan looked like an Alan Jackson song come to life. Blonde hair loose and swinging, tanned skin glowing in the sunset, and cropped jean shorts revealing more legs than any one female should own. The longer I looked at her, the more I knew for completely fucking certain I was totally screwed.
I veered off before I reached her, a little too worked up to have a casual conversation just yet. She was here, this northern angel with a devilish temper, at my bonfire. On my hill. In my county.
I wasn’t sure when I’d begun thinking of her like some apparitional love goddess, but the longer I tried to resist, the more I wanted her. So there it was.
I wanted Jordan DeWalter. Shit, she was already in my head. But I wanted her in my bed. The matter of her “strictly platonic” mantra wasn’t going to faze me tonight.
I’d watch her and I’d wait; just like with a faulty motorcycle engine, I’d listen for her weakness. And when I found it, I’d make it work for me.
It crossed my mind that I hadn’t gone after anything this single-mindedly since mechanic school. That probably said a lot about the state of my life or ambition for it, but right now, I didn’t give a shit about what I should want. I only knew I wanted her. And it was probably going to bite me in the ass before it was all over.
I made my way into the hay bale setup and headed for the guys and the keg—both in the same place.
“What’s up, man? Where you been?” Ford clapped me on the shoulder and Josh, a buddy from high school, handed me a red Solo cup, foam dripping down the side.
“Went out for a ride,” I said, relaxing all over again as I remembered the way the YZ’s motor hummed underneath me on that last leg earlier. It’d taken me weeks to identify the problem, take everything apart, and rebuild it. But now, she was golden.
“Summer said she went by your place for setup. Said you were MIA today.” Ford nodded at the girls gathered ’round the stacked wood in the center of the seating area. Leslie, a longtime friend and Joe’s wife, knelt at the base, ready to light it, while Joe kept an eye beside her.
“Had some things to wrap up,” I said vaguely and went to work on the drink, hoping they wouldn’t press it. I’d spent the day driving to meet a motocross friend in West Virginia about a rebuild he wanted and traffic had been a bitch. I’d hoped to be here and back before anyone noticed but I’d forgotten all about the bonfire tonight.
“Worked out, I guess. Jordan ended up pitching in,” Ford said.
I swallowed hard and took a second look around. “Jordan did all this?”
“She’s been here all day,” Ford said. “Hefting hay bales and setting up the keg with Summer.”
I stared at Jordan’s profile, watching her talk to Leslie and Summer. She laughed, her blonde hair shaking freely as it spilled down around her shoulders. She looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen her. And those shorts again … Damn. I could almost picture her out here hauling hay bales to some George Strait.
“For a northerner, she sure has the country-girl-next-door look down,” Josh said, watching Jordan over the rim of his beer.
I frowned. “She’s not the girl next door,” I said, adding a warning to my tone. “She’s the girl rooming with me. And she’s off limits. Besides, aren’t you just visiting?”
“Whoa,” Josh said, throwing up his hands. “I surrender, relax. Ford’s already informed me you’re interested. I only introduced myself and then backed off.”
“Interested?” I repeated, heat rising to my neck. I cut a glance at Ford, who shrugged and looked away.
Fucking Summer.
I turned back to Josh, rolling my shoulders. “I’m just saying she has a lot going on. She doesn’t need a lawyer grilling her with twenty million questions about her life,” I said. “It has nothing to do with being interested. We’re just friends.”
Her rules, not mine, I silently added.
Josh nodded and winked at Ford. “If you say so.”
Behind me, the stereo came to life and a Blake Shelton song poured out.
A few more people arrived, mostly temp guys from the planting crew. A few more girls. Dean wandered up the hill with Frank and they got a game of cornhole going. Josh wandered away to talk to one of the girls whose name I never learned. They were transient. College kids and sometimes hikers that wandered down from the Appalachian Trail for cash before returning to the woods when Dean no longer needed the extra bodies.
My eyes were on Jordan.
“You going to go talk to her or just stare like a kicked puppy all night?” Summer nudged me and I swiveled to glare at her.
“I’m not a kicked puppy,” I said.
“Right.” She grabbed my beer and gulped the remaining contents before handing it back.
I scowled. “That’s a party foul.”
“You still owe me a six pack for Goose’s diagnosis a couple of weeks ago.”
I shook my head and headed for the keg. “It doesn’t count if she broke down again two days later,” I said over my shoulder.
Summer followed. “Of course it counts,” she shot back, voice rising. And I knew I’d riled her. I grinned, also knowing I’d effectively changed the subject from Jordan and puppies. “All’s fair in friendly wagering,” she said.
“Wagering on what?” Jordan strode up, an empty cup in hand, and I went to work refilling her glass.
“Ha!” Summer snorted. “Anything. Casey’s a sucker for a bet.”
“Really? I thought that habit would’ve died with your middle school pantsing exposure,” Jordan said with a sideways smile.
Summer’s eyes widened. “He told you about that?”
Jordan stared at her, disbelieving. “So it’s true then?”
Summer laughed. “Unfortunately, yes. Everyone in the gym saw a full moon that night.”
Both girls laughed and suddenly the story didn’t feel nearly as funny as it had the night I’d told Jordan. I caught Jordan’s eye and she fell quiet, a small smile on her lips. She sipped her drink, still watching me.
Summer shifted. “Well. I need to help Leslie get this fire going,” she said and then darted off. Real subtle.
Still, Jordan and I watched each other.
Something rippled between us. Tension. Usually by now, Jordan was walking away or changing the subject—something to diffuse the tension. But she just stood there like she was waiting for me to do something.
I knew what my normal move would be … but something told me my usual wouldn’t work here. Flirting, banter, sexy innuendos—something about Jordan seemed to demand more than all that.
“I heard you helped Summer out with all this,” I said finally, nodding at the setup without actually looking at any of it.
“I guess you could say I was Casey for the day. Hefted hay bales. Set up a keg.” Jordan smirked. “You’re welcome.”
“Huh. Well, I guess that means I get to be Jordan one of these days. You know, to keep it even.”
“That’s fair. How about now?”
She raised a brow in silent challenge, and that did it. “Fine, I’ll be Jordan. You be Casey.”
“All right, I’ll go first,” she said and before I could say another word, she chugged her beer. I could only watch in silence as she finished it off, swiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and burped loudly.
“What the—?” I began.
She stepped closer, a playful smile on her lips. “You want to watch me do the dishes?” she asked in a deep voice.
I fought a smile, curling my lip and looking down my nose at her. “No, thanks. You’re not my type,” I said, my voice high-pitched. “Your muscles are way too big and your smile is way too sexy for me.”
I paused, waiting for her to yell or stomp or cuss me—all expected Jordan reactions. But she giggled.
Fucking giggled.
“Okay,” I said, letting the character fall away. “Who are you and what have you done with Jordan?”
“What?” Her brows
crinkled in genuine confusion and it was the most adorable she’d ever looked. I was sorry for not letting our game go on longer.
“You’re laughing,” I explained. “With me? At me? I don’t know, but you’re laughing. And drinking. And wearing … that,” I said, unable to describe those damned shorts any other way in this moment.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” she asked, suspicious now.
“Nothing, I swear,” I said quickly. Even if we didn’t finish the night this friendly, I definitely didn’t want her rethinking her wardrobe choices. “I just mean that I don’t recognize this side of you. You’re having fun.”
“I know how to have fun,” she said, and her bottom lip poked out. God, I wanted to kiss that lip. “I decided to pretend that … I’m trying to be open,” she finished and even though I knew there was more to it, I let it go.
Near the fire, someone hooted as the music changed to something more upbeat. The volume cranked. My mouth twitched as I looked back at Jordan, who was bobbing her head almost imperceptibly. “I think it’s well past time,” I said. “So, this Jordan drinks, laughs—”
“Don’t forget my Casey impersonations,” she put in.
“Spot-on, actually. But what about dancing?” I pointed to a few yards away where Leslie and Joe were dancing to the quick beat, both of them laughing. As we watched, Summer joined them. Then Ford. And if that guy could get out there, I wasn’t going to sit out.
“Dancing to country music?” Jordan bit her lip, looking more thoughtful than offended.
I waited.
“I think I can do that,” she said and I laughed and grabbed her hand.
“Only one way to find out.” I grabbed her drink and set them both aside before leading us out on the grass.
Three songs later, I wondered if a guy could fall in love watching a girl fail at two-step. Jordan was awful. I couldn’t complain, not when my fingertips kept brushing the bare skin where her shirt rode up along the edges whenever she twisted away.
I caught Summer watching me from the fringes. She winked and I could only grin back at her. When Jordan stepped sideways again, we both huffed and I released her. She laughed, spinning away. A good sport, at least.
“Okay, so I’m awful,” she said, returning to my side and pulling me back toward the drink table. “Let’s have another beer and see if I improve.”
“I’ll take that deal.” I followed her and refilled our cups, leading us in the opposite direction of the cranked music. We ended up on a hay bale on the opposite side of the fire, separate from the crowd, most of which was either dancing or running around with sparklers. Joe ran by chasing Leslie with a water balloon and Jordan laughed.
The twilight was heavier now, crickets and cicadas chirping as the stars began twinkling to life. I breathed in the scent of soil and grass and sighed.
“This is fun,” Jordan said, her thigh grazing mine as she settled beside me.
I couldn’t help a sideways glance at that. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair windblown from the spinning. She looked beautiful. Frankly, it was confusing as hell.
“Can I ask what brought out the fun Jordan tonight?” I asked, keeping my voice light.
Jordan shrugged. “I was just thinking…” She trailed off, staring at the ground, and I knew it wasn’t something simple or easy.
When the silence stretched, I backtracked. “Forget it. You don’t have to—”
“No, it’s cool. I owe you an explanation, I guess.” She turned to face me and in the growing darkness, her cornflower-blue eyes shone. “That night in my room, I was right to apologize. I was a real, class-A bitch to you at first. I’m really sorry. We just got off on the wrong foot and then it was easy to take my anger out on you. But it wasn’t right. I meant what I said about being friends with you. Starting tonight.”
“So, we’re friends now,” I repeated slowly.
“If that’s still an option,” she said.
“Friends is one option,” I said pointedly.
Jordan’s expression darkened and she opened her mouth to reply. Before she could beat that dead horse, I went for it. I closed the distance and my mouth landed hot and hard against hers. For a split second I regretted the move, only because I’d meant to be smoother about it. But a second later, Jordan relaxed and her lips moved against mine.
I deepened the kiss, my lips nudging hers to mold to mine. And she complied without hesitation, leaning in until our knees pressed together. My hand came up to cup her cheek, brushing her hair back and urging her head to tilt for better access. When that was no longer enough, I reached for her and pulled her into my lap.
She jerked at my touch, yanking away, both of us panting. She looked like a deer in headlights.
I struggled to keep it light. “Why stop now?” I whispered, still inches from her face. “The fun’s just starting.”
Jordan shook her head, and I watched as she collected herself, morphing right back into the flirty girl she’d been a moment ago. “Which is exactly why I’m leaving it there. Any more fun and we’ll explode.” The fear in her eyes was gone, replaced with teasing, but I knew better now.
I stared at her, daring her to be the one to retreat. “Babe,” I said. “Exploding is the fun.”
Jordan’s sapphire eyes flashed in impatience, a lightning bolt against the night falling around us. She straightened and stood, brushing stray pieces of dirt and hay from her legs. “Casey, I like you—”
“Obviously.” I threw up my hands. “So what’s the problem?”
She glared down at me. “The problem is that you’re from Grayson. And I refuse to get attached to someone from a town like this.” The temper leaked away and she stared at her feet, her bottom lip showing the barest hint of a tremble. “I’m not what you’re looking for.”
Jordan walked off, leaving me holding a beer that tasted a lot like defeat.
This girl had obviously been through hell losing her dad. She was clearly still grieving and pretty fucked up about it all. But the small town bullshit was really starting to grate on me. What the hell was so wrong with the damn country? I didn’t know why it stopped her from giving in every time we got close to acknowledging what was between us. But damned if I was taking it.
I spent the next hour making small talk with some hiker named Alice. She’d spent two months on the trail before wandering into Heritage and working the spring planting. Tomorrow, she headed back to the trail.
I knew why she was telling me that part.
We only had tonight.
That was usually my favorite line. But tonight, all I wanted to have was Jordan.
She was scared. I’d seen it when she’d ended our kiss. It wasn’t about wanting a platonic friendship. She was just as attracted to me as I was to her. But she was scared. Of what, I didn’t know. Country guys, maybe. She’d attached whatever it was to me, to us. But I couldn’t go back to friends, not after a kiss like that.
Someone clicked on one of the flood lights and I blinked into the sudden glare.
“…and that’s why I have to do this on my own,” Alice was saying.
Shit. She was still talking. I needed to end this.
“I’m going to see if Ford needs help with the firewood,” I said, rising and making for the edges of the circle before she could argue.
I found the dwindling pile of wood but no Ford. In case Alice was watching, I kept going, beyond the light of the gathering, stopping to pick up wood as I went. If I carried around an armload of firewood all night, maybe that would save me from further conversation.
I heard her voice before I saw her.
She stood off to the side, in the shadows, talking about the architecture firm she used to work for. I crept closer, trying to find a graceful entrance into the conversation, but then I heard Josh’s voice and I froze.
“…pretty impressive. Most girls I knew in Philly would’ve given up with that kind of pressure in the workplace. Not many female lawyers in the firms I interned at either. I t
hink it’s a shame. Women have a lot to offer the corporate workplace.”
Fuck you, Josh.
Jordan replied with something about determination and using it all as fuel for starting her own firm. All I could hear was Josh’s smooth comebacks and the sound of my chance with Jordan slipping further away.
I dropped the wood in a heap, startling them both.
Jordan’s rounded eyes met mine in the firelight. “Casey?”
“What’s up, man?” Josh said, wary.
“Can I talk to my roommate for a minute?”
Josh muttered a goodbye and walked off.
Even in the dark, I caught Jordan’s glare. “That was rude. What the hell is wrong with you?” she hissed.
“Not me. You,” I said, stepping closer and trying my best to curb my temper. But just the sight of her was making me crazy. “So a country boy like me is immediately thrown into the friend zone. But a city boy like Josh, white collar type, and you’re available for whatever, right?”
Somewhere deep down I knew I sounded like an asshole. Maybe I could’ve put it better, but I wasn’t wrong. And Jordan knew it.
“Kiss my ass, Casey. I’m not interested in Josh. And it has nothing to do with the color of his collar.”
“Really? Then what’s your deal? You have a sad sack of an ex lying around somewhere? A flannel-wearing cattle farmer or a Monster Truck driver?”
“No.” That one word was a warning, but I was too pissed to heed it.
“Then I don’t get your deal with small town guys.”
“My ‘deal’ isn’t that complicated. I don’t have an asshole ex in the past and I don’t plan to. Country or not,” she added.
“And that’s clearly what you see me as?” I demanded. “An ex waiting to happen? Why are you so scared of me?”
“Look,” she said, her bangs feathering with her heavy breath. “I know you don’t understand. I don’t expect you to. But I have no interest in flings that result in someone getting hurt in the end. I’m doing what’s best for me. I’m keeping clear of the … baggage that comes with relationships that aren’t compatible.”
“Compatible, huh?”
“That’s right.”
A Bet Worth Making (Grayson County #2) Page 9