A Bet Worth Making (Grayson County #2)

by Heather Hildenbrand

  “And you think we aren’t compatible. Because that kiss was compatible as hell. You can’t tell me you aren’t attracted to me even if I am from a small town.” Jordan opened her mouth then closed it again. I smirked, though I was anything but happy. “That’s the part you can’t stand, isn’t it?”

  Jordan huffed. “Fine, I’m attracted to you. But that doesn’t change what this is.”

  I stepped closer. “Which is?”

  “Convenient.”

  She fell silent, clearly bracing herself for an argument. And I knew if I tried to have it out over this, it wouldn’t move her except to make her back even farther away from me. I bit my tongue on the rest and simply nodded.

  “Fine, this is convenient. So what?” I asked finally. “I mean, don’t most attractions start with: you’re a girl, I’m a guy; we’re both here, let’s see where this leads?”

  Jordan crossed her arms. “What’s your point, Casey?”

  “My point is, you’re a girl, I’m a guy; we’re both here—”

  “Okay, I get it.” She threw her hands up. “That’s lame.”

  “Fine. My lines are lame.”

  I stepped closer, and when she leaned away, I just leaned with her. My eyes bored into hers, searching for the answer to a question I’d yet to ask aloud.

  “Casey…” she began and I was sure she was about to tell me to go to hell. To turn and march off, leaving me hanging less than a breath away from a kiss. Instead, she said, “Wait.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jordan

  Casey hovered in front of me in the darkness, close enough for me to smell him; gasoline and earth and soap. The combination was sexy as hell, and a complete distraction right now.

  He was asking me to sleep with him.

  I knew what answer he wanted—what answer I wanted after that kiss earlier. But I knew once I gave it to him, there’d be no going back. I’d spent enough time pretending and resisting his charms already to know that sex with Casey wasn’t something a girl got out of her system after just once.

  But I also knew myself well enough to know I wouldn’t be falling in love like some city girl with a cowboy fetish. No, if Casey and I got going, it would be nothing more than a fling. Not that I’d ever done the casual sex thing. But hey, Casey seemed like the kind of guy who could drive a girl to sexually explore.

  Was I ready for that? Until now, I’d met that question with a firm, resounding no. Flings weren’t my style. Despite having very few boyfriends in the past, they hadn’t ever been just casual encounters. Then again, maybe a fling was exactly what I needed to distract me from the stress of everything right now.

  Still, as tempted as I was, something in me screamed “bad idea.” But in this moment, standing toe-to-toe with this sexy, country mechanic with a quick tongue and eyes that pinned me, I wasn’t so sure. After four beers, I’d taken one look at the ridiculously sexy streak of jealousy Casey had tossed at me—and wanted only to jump his bones. The way he stared at me, like I was the solution to a particularly difficult equation, made my mind go blank.

  The word “no” was on the tip of my tongue, but instead of speaking it, what came out was, “Wait.”

  “Wait for what?” Casey asked, leaning in as if he could sense me wavering. “I’ve been waiting since the second I saw you. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

  I searched for another argument, another excuse. My brain felt foggy. I needed space. Something I definitely wasn’t going to get, not now, not unless I shot him all the way down. And to do that, I’d have to go pretty low. Because the look in Casey’s eyes meant business.

  And I wasn’t sure I had it in me to stop him a second time if he tried that kiss again. Truth be told, I wanted him. I wanted his hands on me, his mouth, his lips, his tongue … I wanted to know what it felt like to press my skin against his bare chest and down the sharp planes of his abs—

  “Let’s make a wager,” I blurted, if only to buy time.

  He blinked at me. “A wager?” I’d clearly caught him off guard. That made two of us.

  “A bet.” I smiled now as the idea fully formed. It was an evil grin, but then it was an evil idea. “You said yourself that you couldn’t resist.”

  “What sort of bet?”

  I hesitated. Steering clear of lost causes and dead-end relationships was one thing. Betting against my own success was another. But … I couldn’t help myself. I knew enough about Casey by now to know how he operated. It was either this or walk out and never come back.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “I bet the cost of my car’s repairs that if we go through with what you’re proposing, you’ll disappoint me in the end.”

  Casey’s jaw went slack. “Are you being serious?” He stared back at me with disbelieving eyes. “You’re going to bet on our ... failure as a couple?”

  “Maybe…” My confidence sagged. Bad idea, Jordan.

  I braced myself for his explosive reaction. For fuming and stomping, maybe even cussing. Instead, he tilted his head thoughtfully. “Your car is deceased,” he said. “Can’t be fixed.”

  “No, it’s not worth fixing,” I corrected. “At least not according to my bank account. But yours…”

  “How much?” he asked.

  I winced as I told him the figure.

  “What the hell? It would be cheaper to buy a new one!”

  “I like that one,” I said. “But if you don’t want to—”

  “Let me get this straight, woman. If I take the bet, you’re willing to be in a relationship with me. To sleep with me. All because you think, in the end, I’ll screw it up?”

  I shrugged, pretending I hadn’t just felt a shudder of anticipation when he’d said the words “sleep with me.” “Basically. I mean, not just you. I might just as easily—”

  “What the hell, Jordan? That’s … morbid. And crazy.”

  My chin came up. “Those are my terms. Take it or leave it.”

  Casey backed away from me and paced the small space where we stood. He watched me, eyes blazing, the entire time. I knew I’d crossed a line with my crazy idea. It was selfish and awful and all about getting what I wanted out of this, Casey’s feelings be damned. But I was desperate. For a distraction. For something that made me feel good after months of nothing but darkness. I couldn’t bring myself to take it back.

  I held my breath while I waited for his answer, my nerves jangling. Why the hell did I care this much what answer he gave?

  He did a couple more laps, muttering to himself as he paced about things like “lost cause” and “Frank’s hand in everything I do anymore.”

  Abruptly, he circled back and shoved his face in front of mine. “Did Frank put you up to this?” he demanded.

  “What? No. This is all me.”

  He sighed, dramatic and long. “What do I get if I win?” he asked quietly.

  A ripple of equal parts shock and pleasure shot down my spine. I fought back a smile. “Um, I don’t know. I guess I hadn’t thought about that possibility,” I told him honestly.

  He leaned away. I’d pissed him off again. But he was still here, so that was something. In the back of my mind, guilt poked at me like a sharp stick. Contrary to my initial impression of him that first day, Casey had turned out to be a nice guy. A pleasant surprise compared to the stereotype I’d constructed in my mind of small town people.

  But there was something in me, the broken and betrayed granddaughter or whatever-it-was, that compelled me onward. And that brokenness screamed for at least the small comfort of smug rightness when, inevitably, one of us pulled the rug out and the dust settled.

  I bit my lip. If I ever said that out loud, Gavin would beat me over the head. I was probably the only girl in the history of relationships to ever bet against her own happiness.

  Casey’s eyes locked tightly on mine. His mouth parted and a light flashed in the depths of his deep-brown pools. “If I win, I get you.”

  I tore my eyes from his mouth. “Wait, what?”


  “If I win, if I don’t do anything to disappoint you by the end of … your project with Summer, I get you.”

  I frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “It means you stay.”

  “For how long?”

  “As long as it takes.”

  “Casey, you’re being vague. That’s not how a bet works. You have define clear cut parameters—”

  “Jordan, I don’t know how to be clearer. I’m falling for you, all right? Have been since that first night when you were hot as hell and pissed as the devil at me. I want a real shot at something with you here but you’re not making it easy.”

  My eyes filled with tears and I blinked frantically to hold them back. It was the sweetest thing he’d ever said but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. “Casey, I … I’m going through a lot right now. There are things I haven’t told you about my family and what I’m dealing with.” I bit my lip and met Casey’s eyes, heart pounding. “I don’t have the capacity to fall in love right now.”

  He huffed. “But you’ll make this bet to be with me?”

  I hesitated, hating how mean it sounded but in the end, I was honest. “It’s how I know I won’t lose,” I whispered.

  He leaned in, brushing his lips over the tender spot where my jawline met my earlobe. Goose bumps raced from my neck to my toes and every other tender spot in between. “I’ll make the bet if it means I can have you. And if I win, I get to keep you.” A couple more brushed kisses and then he whispered, “Those are my terms. Take it or leave it.”

  I shuddered and goose bumps broke out along every surface he touched. He was playing dirty and he knew it.

  My resolve wavered and I caught the words just before they left my lips. I stepped back, shook my head to clear it. “I’ll think about it,” I heard myself say. What? That wasn’t the answer I’d planned.

  “Fine,” Casey said, stepping close once again, his breath hitting my face as he bent low. “You have twenty-four hours to consider.”

  “Then what?” I challenged, but I swayed toward him, completely giving away how bad I wanted to just agree and get on with it. “If I don’t decide either way, what happens?”

  “You’ll decide,” he said, and the threat in his words shot straight to my insides until I squirmed with arousal.

  My breath caught and it took everything in me to turn on my heel and stride off. Wagering with Casey Luck was a gamble and the stakes were too high for my own good.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Casey

  The memory of my own words woke me before my alarm the next morning. They’d played on a loop even in my weird-ass dreams. If I win, I get you. What the hell did that even mean? Was I trying to own her now like some sort of modern-day slave trade? No wonder she’d looked at me like I’d grown three heads.

  Fuck. I’d had my chance and blown it. Just like five years ago when I’d graduated from Mechanics Institute of America. I’d never even told Frank about the elective motorcycle course they’d let me add on during my last year there. To this day, he had no idea I’d received the Excellence Award because it had been in the motorcycle division only. Then, I’d graduated and come home and gone to work for him without a word mentioned about bikes. I blew my chance then and I’d blown it now with Jordan.

  Instead of manning up and telling her I wanted to date her for real, I’d panicked and said some dumb shit about wanting to own her. Then I’d gone and agreed to her stupid wager. And now, even if she agreed to the terms, I’d never get a real shot. The entire thing hinged on our eventual failure.

  Who the hell bet on her own unhappiness?

  I swear that girl was not normal. And that was the exact reason I felt drawn to her, of course. She wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met.

  I rolled out of bed in nothing but a pair of boxers, still confused and cursing myself for my own idiocy at the bonfire last night. I stretched, rubbing absently at my bare chest before shuffling towards the bedroom door.

  The smell of bacon drew me halfway down the hall before I remembered our clothing rule. I doubled back, pulled a clean shirt out of the drawer, and yanked it over my head before returning to my mission: breakfast.

  Jordan stood over a pan of bacon, her back towards me as she worked. I stood in the doorway and took in her black leggings that hugged every line and curve of her thighs and the oversized tee that cut off at her hips. It wasn’t even revealing but somehow, on her, it enticed to the point of aching. She reached into the overhead cabinet for salt, pulling the fabric of the shirt higher and higher. At the sight of her exposed back and hip, my mouth went dry. Hello, morning wood.

  I cleared my throat.

  “Morning,” Jordan said, half-turning.

  I muttered a greeting and slinked to the fridge, hoping she wouldn’t notice my full mast. “What’s on the agenda today?” I asked, skipping right past the “about last night…” conversation. I wasn’t ready to revisit that just yet.

  Jordan moved the bacon around and checked the eggs in the pan beside it. Damn, girl was cooking a full spread. I was already in love and it was barely nine am.

  “Today,” Jordan repeated uncertainly. “Well, I was hoping to borrow your truck.”

  “Sure, you and Summer going to work some overtime on those house plans?” I asked.

  “Um, no, it’s a … personal errand,” she mumbled.

  I watched her in confusion as she hedged away and busied herself with scrambling half-cooked eggs. “A special rendezvous?” I joked.

  Jordan reddened and a streak of jealousy shot through me as I remembered the easy way she’d talked with Josh last night.

  “It’s just … never mind, I’ll rent a car or something,” she said, turning away to scroll through her phone.

  “No, don’t do that,” I said quickly, and thinking even faster. “I need to run into town and pick up some stuff. I’ll just ride with you.”

  “It’s not … in Grayson,” she said carefully, her blue eyes practically begging me to let this go.

  Not happening. I opened my mouth to ask what she meant—was she planning on driving all the way back to New England today? But her phone rang, cutting me off.

  Jordan spun away and answered it, her voice clipped from the first, “Hello.”

  A quick pause and then, “No, I’m going today.”

  I drank my orange juice and checked the bacon, refusing to leave my own kitchen just because she’d taken a call in a lowered voice.

  Jordan wandered toward the window, her back to me. I stood over the eggs and bacon that sizzled as it finished up, and underneath that, I caught the sound of a male voice coming through Jordan’s phone. Jealous heat washed over me and I clanked dishes as I grabbed a bowl and scooped the eggs into it. I set it down with a crack on the counter and whirled for the coffee. Suddenly, I was no longer hungry. Not that Jordan had offered to share.

  She clearly didn’t have an interest in sharing much with me.

  I poured coffee, added cream, and stirred, ready to slip out and leave her to her damned secret conversation. But Jordan hung up and turned, her mouth set. I didn’t wait for an explanation.

  The keys jingled as I yanked them from the hook and tossed them onto the counter beside her eggs. “Here. I’ll do my errands another time.”

  Jordan’s head snapped up and she jerked clear. “What the hell?” she demanded. “You don’t have to throw them at me. I said I can rent a car.”

  My temper flared and words tumbled out without thought. “Don’t bother. You can use the truck as long as you need. I have other choices,” I said and the words hung in the air between us.

  “Why do I feel like we’re no longer talking about cars?” Jordan asked, head tilting.

  “Look, last night was…” I tried to find words that wouldn’t piss her off even more. Or me. “The bet was stupid. You don’t have to—”

  “Thank God. What a stupid idea thinking we could bet on no-strings sex.” She exhaled.

  “We could change the terms,” I sai
d. “Bet on making it happen.”

  Her gaze softened, but it wasn’t agreement. More like a combination of guilt and determination. “That’s not what I want,” she said quietly.

  “And what do you want, Jordan?”

  “I want … to feel good,” she admitted. “You make me feel good. With you, I can forget about how sad and angry I am at everything that’s happening. Which is why I proposed the bet. To make it fun. Keep it light. But I know it was awful to bet against us.”

  “I’m a distraction,” I said, my shaking my head as I finally understood why she’d brought up the whole thing. Grief made people do some crazy shit but damn.

  “You want a good time, fine. But betting on heartbreak—”

  “Who said anything about heartbreak?” she challenged and I opened my mouth and promptly shut it again. “You said a good time and see where this leads. You never said anything about caring or love or heartbreak.”

  I sighed. For someone so smart, she was oblivious. This girl was hooking me. Every time she challenged me, argued, and put me in my place, I only wanted her more. Wanted to know her. Not some silly no-strings distraction. And I had a feeling she wanted more too, she just couldn’t admit it to herself. But I saw it in the way she looked at me. The way she stayed when she claimed she only wanted to walk away. The way she’d kissed me back.

  I don’t have the capacity to fall in love. That’s what she’d said. And a bet was just what I needed to prove otherwise.

  “Fine, your twenty-four hours stands.” I crossed my arms over my chest, my mind made up. If this was the only way to get Jordan’s attention, so be it. “You have until tonight. But you don’t get to run off and spend the day with some other guy while you weigh your options. That’s not how this works.”

  “Other guy? What are you talking about?” Her eyes went wide and round with clear disbelief.

  “The guy on the phone, the truck—I’m not sitting on the sidelines while you shop around or some shit,” I said.

  “Shop around? What the hell are you talking about?” Her cheeks flushed red and I knew I’d crossed a line. She stomped up until she was in my face. “For your information, the guy on the phone was Gavin. My brother.”