A Bet Worth Making (Grayson County #2)

by Heather Hildenbrand

  John was waiting for me on the porch.

  “She’s just scared of you,” he said.

  I whirled on him, my breaths shallow and labored as I barely held back hot tears and an even hotter temper. “She’s a class-A bitch,” I hissed. “No wonder Dad left and never came back.”

  “It was a shock, having you show up,” he began, completely ignoring my comment. At least he hadn’t defended her.

  “The surprise is mutual,” I said. “I don’t know what the rest of your family is like but mine doesn’t come sniffing around just to beg for money. My family has more class than that.”

  He nodded, but his eyes were sad as he said, “Our track record for prodigal returns isn’t great. Sharon and I have waited a long time for the chance to make it right with you. And with Roy. Especially since we couldn’t do it with Shelley.”

  I had no clue who Shelley was, and I didn’t bother to ask. At the mention of my dad, my temper left me. I strained to get it back, already knowing the anger was easier to handle than the gut-wrenching loss that panged through me.

  John stared out at the empty yard as if caught up in another moment. “I’ve always regretted my temper that day, you know.”

  “Then why didn’t you just apologize?” I asked.

  His expression fell into a frown that created deep lines around his eyes and mouth. He met my eyes and then looked away again. “It’s not easy for us DeWalters to express … feelings.” He said the last word as if it were a sharp-toothed animal and even though I wanted to blame him for using an excuse, I kept silent. I knew exactly what he meant.

  “Is he here with you now?” John asked, scanning the yard and then studying the cab of the truck hopefully.

  My heart sank into the soles of my feet and I wondered if I was going to throw up.

  They didn’t know.

  How did they not know?

  Was this how far removed they were from their own son? Sure, they hadn’t come to the funeral but I’d thought they’d just stayed away because of all the bad blood and the years of silence. Mom hadn’t mentioned it, but I’d caught her looking for them that day in the church.

  God, where was Gavin when I needed him? He was so much better at the hard stuff than me. I cast a betrayed look at the sky. Fuck you, Universe, for putting this on me.

  “No,” I said, my voice strange in my own ears. “He’s not here.”

  “Is he in town then?” John pressed and I caught sight of Sharon through the screen door hovering in the hallway shadows, listening. The hope in her own expression was a clear match for her husband’s. Suddenly, I felt like the oldest one here.

  “He’s not here,” I repeated, sick with the words I was about to deliver. I hated saying it out loud.

  “Amelia always did have a tight chain on him,” Sharon said, and my eyes whipped up at that. Her lip was curled back in a sneer and that did it.

  “My mother has nothing to do with it,” I said, icy and cold and no longer compassionate about this moment. “My dad’s not here because he’s dead. His dying wish was that we all make it right, so this, today,” I said, with a cutting gesture between us, “it’s on you. Not me. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

  With that, I turned on my heel and marched away.

  Neither one called out or tried to stop me.

  I started up the truck, yanked the gearshift into reverse, and then hit the gas, spinning tires against the grass as I went.

  Hot tears blurred my vision but I blinked hard against them as I navigated my way down the drive. It wasn’t until I hit the main road that I realized I hadn’t blinked them away at all; they fell in thick rivers down my cheeks, watering my jeans and hands until the wheel became slippery in my grip.

  When I couldn’t see or grip the wheel any longer, I swerved right, pulling onto a gravel shoulder, and came to a stop, giving in to the sobs that clung inside my throat.

  What a fucking mess that had been. If this was a family, I was going to pass.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Casey

  I leaned into the curve, wind whipping past my shoulders as I pinned the throttle, only easing off when I straightened my line to match the road ahead. I had no idea where Jordan’s family lived; only a guess leftover from high school, which wasn’t very promising right now seeing how my last three guesses had been wrong. But Windsor only had so many roads that boasted larger houses, and something told me Jordan’s family came from upper-class stock.

  Call it social racism, but the only kind of people I’d ever heard of who disowned their children were the rich and snotty. And after a lifetime of dirt bike riding in these parts, I knew exactly where the rich and snotty lived in Windsor, Virginia.

  Up ahead the road curved again before a four-way stop I knew would take me either left to a gas station or right toward some older but well-kept family homesteads before leading to the next county over. I planned to take the road on the right.

  Mentally, I cursed myself for being so naïve earlier. Jordan had acted fine when she’d come out of the shower, even agreed to wait for me to ride with her after all. And I’d let myself be convinced she was telling the truth. Instead, the minute I’d stepped underneath the hot water, she’d taken off.

  I was pretty sure she hadn’t seen me bolt onto the porch in nothing but a hand towel. Side note: I needed to do laundry.

  It wasn’t until she’d left me high and dry that I’d stopped to think how on edge she must be about today. And more than that, how much I cared if she was hurting. She didn’t need to tell me how hard it was losing a parent. I had no intention of letting her do it alone. Or anything else for that matter. I wanted Jordan. Not just in my bed but on my arm. In my ear. A relationship, someone to laugh with. To get to know. I had no idea why or when it had happened, but something had changed for me. I wanted Jordan—all of her—and I wasn’t messing around about it anymore.

  For once, I was going after what I wanted.

  I leaned into the turn then righted again and braked for the stop. Like a bat signal, my gas light blinked at me from the tiny dashboard between my handlebars. Shit. Guess I was going left instead.

  I knocked the shifter into first with the toe of my boot, barely stopping before preparing to hit the throttle again. But then a familiar fading pickup caught my eye on the far shoulder and I pulled in both clutch and brake and planted my feet.

  The hood was angled toward the shoulder so all I saw was the truck bed and driver’s side door. Through the window, Jordan sat hunched over the wheel, her face in her hands. Even from here, I could see the way her entire upper body shook with her sobs.

  I gunned the engine, released the clutch, and shot forward.

  Gravel sprayed as I pulled up short behind my pickup, tucking the bike near the rear wheel and leaning it against the closest tree as I hopped off. The next thing this baby needed was a kickstand. But working brakes had come first and then I’d run out of time. I’d planned to work on her today but…

  I rounded the truck and stowed my helmet in the bed before opening the door and sliding into the cab on the passenger side.

  Jordan yelped. Her hands fell away from her face to stare back at me, startled.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Her tear-streaked face reddened even more and I felt bad that I’d freaked her out when she was clearly already upset. Disappointment flashed through me as I realized she wasn’t going to trust me outright. Maybe I deserved that.

  “You were supposed to wait for me,” I said.

  She twisted toward the back window, her eyes narrowing on the dirt bike. “Did you follow me?” she asked, suspicion coating her words and doing nothing to tamp down the temper I saw brewing in her eyes.

  “No, although I wish I had. Would’ve saved me half a tank of gas,” I said.

  She looked at me like I’d just admitted to stashing a body somewhere. “You’re unbelievable,” she said. “Did it ever occur to you I left without you because I didn’t want your c
ompany today? That I just wanted to be alone?”

  Her voice shook on the last word and it did me in. “It did, actually,” I said without any of my usual sarcasm.

  “And yet here you are,” she snapped.

  I ignored the venom in her words and scooted closer. “Sometimes what we want and what we need aren’t the same thing.”

  “You have no idea what I need,” she hissed, leaning away from me.

  I ignored that, grabbing her wrist and pulling her toward me. She resisted but I only pulled harder. “Who said anything about you? I was talking about me. Come here, Jordan. I need to hold you.”

  I saw the conflict in her eyes and I didn’t press it. Alarm speared through me as I thought about what I would do if she really and truly rejected me right now. But then she softened and I felt her resistance go slack.

  She didn’t move toward me, but this was enough. I’d already had plenty of time today to think this through. I knew what I wanted and I wasn’t letting her off the hook until I got it.

  I scooped her up and sat her in my lap, wrapping my arms around her until she was snug against my chest. She sat stiff for a second more like she didn’t know what to do and I wondered if anyone had ever held her like this before.

  Then, she melted against me, her arms sliding around my neck and her face pressing against my neck. “They were awful.”

  And before I could ask who or why, she was sobbing again.

  I let her cry it out, rubbing her back and shushing her now and then. I flip-flopped between feeling honored that she’d let her walls down with me and completely at a loss about how in the hell I was supposed to respond. No girl had ever cried like this to me before. Well, once, Summer had cried to me when some boy in her class had told everyone she kissed like a golden retriever—so I’d kicked his ass during football intramurals the next week and it had never been a problem again.

  I was pretty sure this was different.

  I thought about admitting the little I knew of her family but decided against it. There would be plenty of time for that later. I wanted to let her talk first. Besides, anything I had to say would only make it worse.

  Finally, her shoulders stopped shaking, and the sniffling became less and less. When she straightened, her cheeks were flushed but her eyes were clear. Black liner was smudged along one cheek. I decided not to point that out.

  “God, this is awkward,” she said, sniffling and wiping at her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” I asked.

  She sniffled again and pointed. “I ruined your shirt.”

  I shrugged and grinned. “It’s part of my master plan to get you to change your mind about my wearing clothes.”

  The corners of Jordan’s mouth twisted upward and I felt like I’d just won the damn lottery.

  “Thanks for coming to find me. You didn’t have to,” she said, but her hands were still locked around my neck. I took that as a good sign.

  “Like I said, it wasn’t for you.” That earned me a quick laugh before her expression clouded over again. “Tell me what happened,” I said.

  She met my eyes and my chest tightened at the pain I saw there. “I don’t … I’m not ready to talk about it. Can we do something else?”

  I nodded and slid her off my lap so that she was on the passenger side. “Be right back,” I said before climbing out.

  I ran back and did the best I could to haul the dirt bike into the truck bed. I’d just managed to get the front wheel propped on the tailgate when Jordan appeared on the other side of the frame. She grinned, her cheeks still flushed and wet, and hefted the bike with me until it stood upright in the bed. I tied it down and secured it with the straps I kept in the toolbox.

  I jumped back to the ground, landing in the dirt just in front of Jordan. She didn’t move away at my closeness. I told myself that was progress. Instead, she cast her eyes to the sky. I followed her gaze and frowned at the dark clouds gathering above us.

  I nudged Jordan toward the truck. “Come on, let’s get going.”

  I held the door for Jordan and she climbed in first with me on her heels. She settled herself in the center of the bench seat, legs straddling the shifter. I bit back a grin at what a picture she made sitting there and slid behind the wheel. Between her hauling a dirt bike into my truck bed and the way her thigh pressed against mine in the middle seat, I couldn’t help but think, for a city girl, Jordan was damn good at being country.

  “We better get home before it rains on your bike,” she said.

  “Not just yet.” I turned the key, firing up the engine. “Something else I want to do first.”

  “What is it?”

  I checked for traffic and then eased onto the empty road. “You wanted to do something else. My second favorite thing is driving.”

  The truck bounced then settled as I cruised out of Windsor. I glanced over and found Jordan studying me. “What’s your first favorite thing?” she asked.

  I couldn’t help but give her a wicked smile. “Play your cards right and I’ll show you sometime.”

  The heat that stole across her wide-eyed face made my insides curl with desire. I’d meant to distract her with that comment—mission accomplished. And then some.

  Jordan was silent but dry-eyed as we made the drive. She didn’t ask where I was headed and I didn’t offer. In fact, I still wasn’t sure about my decision to take her there. I’d never taken anyone else before.

  The sun was slanting through the trees by the time we pulled onto the dirt lane. Jordan sat up straighter as we bounced down the narrow path, cutting a look at me and then back at the road. I slowed as branches slid over the hood from where they’d grown over the path and then swerved to miss another pothole. The dirt was packed and smooth between dips, and I made a mental note to bring the dirt bike back here soon. This trail was perfect for testing out my new shocks.

  “Are you going to tell me where you’re taking me?” she asked finally and I glanced over to find her pouting. With that expression and the attitude, it was clear she was already recovering from earlier. It made me happy.

  “I want to show you something,” I said.

  She raised a brow at me. “Does that line usually work for you? Because—”

  “Relax. I have no intention of making a move on you in this truck. I want to show you that,” I said, pointing out the windshield just as the trees gave way and the house came into view.

  “Oh.” Jordan stared.

  I rolled to a stop in the patchy grass and parked.

  Jordan craned her neck to get a view of the second story through the glass, and I took it as a good sign when she “oohed” quietly. When I got out and came around to open her door, she took my offered hand and joined me on the lawn.

  “What is it?” she asked, still studying the crumbling two-story Antebellum.

  “A project,” I said, and she jerked her head up at me.

  “Whose?” she asked. I could practically smell her excitement, but I ignored the question and led her to the porch. “We can’t,” she said, tugging me to a stop just short of the bottom step.

  “You don’t like it?” I asked.

  “I … it’s beautiful, but it’s not ours. We can’t just walk in,” she said.

  I smiled. “It’s no one’s. And yes, we can.” I let go of her hand and bounded up the steps, turning the knob on the peeling front door. It swung open with a creak, revealing sun-stained wood and slanted rays from a high window in the dining room.

  I stepped inside and tilted my head at Jordan until she reluctantly joined me in the foyer. I looked over at her, enjoying the way she studied the space uncertainly as dust motes danced between us.

  “You want to look around?” I asked, gesturing wide with my hand.

  Jordan crept forward a few steps and I bit back a laugh. This girl was clearly not a rule-breaker. I pulled her into the empty living room and from there, the kitchen, and then the mudroom. Jordan inched along behind me, peering around cautiously at the empty ro
oms lined with peeling wallpaper and battered drywall.

  Above us, aging rafters ran the length of the space. Light slanted in from the high windows that, according to Frank, my mother had been a fan of, but otherwise, the late afternoon was muted in here. The quiet was a presence that seemed to have a mood of its own.

  “It feels … full,” Jordan said and I stared back at her, surprised. Not only because the house was empty but because she’d nailed the exact feeling I always got when I came here.

  “Full of what?” I asked.

  She did a full spin, taking it all in before answering me. “I don’t know. Memories. Potential. How in the world did you find it?” she asked, turning back to me, her eyes wide with wonder.

  “Luck,” I told her simply, and she smiled.

  I showed her the house and, with every room, her mood seemed to improve, the evidence of her ordeal earlier fading slowly from her mouth and shoulders. She went on about workmanship in the wainscoting, which I didn’t understand half of but appreciated just the same. I was glad to see the spring in her step return, but more than that, I was happy she seemed to love this place as much as I did.

  I’d never shown an outsider before. It was too private. But Jordan, she got it.

  “…needs an alcove cut out for a buffet right here,” she said. And then with a brow arched added, “Do you even know what a buffet is?”

  “I know I’ve never met one I didn’t like,” I said. “Especially breakfast buffets. Matter of fact, let’s put a buffet in every room.”

  Jordan laughed and pulled me along.

  By the time we were done with the tour, she was back to normal. Or at least back to who she’d been this morning.

  “Thank you, Casey,” she said as we walked back out to the porch.

  The afternoon sun had already dipped behind the house, throwing pools of shadow and light across her face and hair. “For what?” I asked, caught up in the way the shadows danced over her features.

  “For all of it. Showing up. Letting me cry on you. Distracting me.” She sounded sad.