Casey put in our order with the scruffy-faced man behind the bar and came away with two cold bottles. I took mine when he offered it and drank deeply. I was going to need a lot more of these to spend my Friday night in a place like this. Casey caught my eye and frowned.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re doing it again,” he said.
“Doing what?”
He watched me for a long moment and I had to fight the urge to squirm. Something about his expression made me feel guilty, although I wasn’t sure for what. I looked away and caught sight of Frank leaning over a pool table across the space, lining up a shot.
“Nothing,” Casey said finally, and I turned back in time to see his eyes flash once before he sighed and his expression went blank.
Onstage, the music changed, one song melding into the next. I recognized this one from the radio. I bobbed my head, mouthing the words to myself.
Casey smiled over the rim of his bottle. “You know this one?”
I stopped lip-syncing. “Maybe.”
His grin widened. “Come on.”
He grabbed my free hand and led me to the dance floor. When I tugged back at him, he only pulled harder. We ended up on the fringes of the organized line dance happening out in the center of the raised platform.
“No way,” I said, tugging harder now. “I am not going out there. I don’t know this dance.”
“Obviously,” he said, ignoring my attempts to back away. He yanked my arm up to his shoulder and snaked his around my waist, pulling me close and trapping me there.
“That’s not how you dance to this one,” I said, laughing before I could catch myself.
“It’s how I dance to all of them,” he said. “Trust me, I am not going to impress you here.”
I laughed again and when he pulled and swayed, I let him.
The song ended and Summer and Ford shouldered their way over from the other side of the dance floor, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes sparkling. I smiled back at her, enjoying her obvious happiness without the usual trace of envy. Maybe because for the first time in months, I was having fun too.
“Casey’s wooing you with his dance skills, huh?” she said and I snickered.
Casey glared at her then me. “Jordan likes a guy with other skills,” he said and even though I knew it was a joke, my face heated.
Ford chose that moment to look over and I knew he’d caught on to my embarrassment. He winked at me, which only made it worse.
“You caught me. I have a weakness for bad dancing,” I said, my voice coming out strangely light. Was I really shamelessly flirting with a country boy in a redneck bar—and enjoying it?
“Well, then, baby, I’m your man,” Casey said, yanking me against him in an exaggerated move. Summer hooted and Casey spun us away until I couldn’t see them anymore through my own laughter.
Casey, this night, even this bar was making me rethink how I’d always pegged people out here. We danced and spun to our own beat and my skin heated everywhere Casey’s fingers skimmed. I let my head fall back, taking pleasure in the feel of Casey’s neck and hands underneath my fingertips. And the feel of his hands on me.
Between sways, an image flashed into my mind of my parents. My mom probably would’ve worn jean shorts and a cropped shirt similar to my own. And Dad, well, if he’d been half as charming as I remembered, no wonder they’d chosen each other over his family. They must have had nights exactly like this one. And, for once, the conjured memories I had of them here all those years ago didn’t upset me.
“You might want to calm down,” Casey said as he slowed us to match the sweet song playing now.
I found myself caught in his arms, my cheek pressed against his in a slow dance. I didn’t know the song but the words were romantic, all about new love being true love. All around us, couples swayed softly, but I barely saw them.
“Why?” I asked, trying to concentrate on his words over the erratic beating of my heart.
“Someone might look at that smile you’re wearing in this very redneck country bar and think you’re having fun,” he said and his breath tickled my ear.
I ran my fingers through the hair that hung at the back of his neck, enjoying the shaggy, uneven length of it. Guys back home were always so rigidly clean-cut. “I am having fun,” I said honestly and pulled back just enough to smile at him. “I had my doubts but … this place is great.”
His eyes went round in mock shock and he clutched at his heart. “Did I just hear that right? Did the exhaustingly proper, rigidly prim New Englander, Jordan DeWalter, just admit to having fun in the best dive bar in Grayson County?”
I smacked his arm, laughing. “I am not prim and proper,” I said. “Or exhausting.”
He leaned in, brow rising suggestively. Desire rippled through me. “You’ll have to prove me wrong later. Although, personally I hope you’re very, very exhausting.”
Whatever indignation I’d mustered drained away. Between the music and the beer and his words …I was lost.
“Casey…” I didn’t have a chance to finish before his lips grazed over mine, soft and tentative. I had to hold myself back from crushing myself against him, mouth, body, and all.
When he pulled back, I blinked to get my bearings. Hadn’t there been something I wanted to say? “You’ve been different this week,” was all I could come up with.
Casey’s mouth quirked on one side. His hand cupped my chin. “Just waiting for you to let your guard down, sweetheart.”
“What changed?” I asked, knowing full well what he meant. I’d been stressed and nervous all week about this exact moment. And none of that had changed before we’d walked in here tonight.
“I see now that if I want your wall removed, I’ll have to demo it myself.” He winked, lifting the sexual tension tugging at me like a tether. “Starting with showing you how much fun it can be to party in the country.”
He spun me suddenly and I had to jump to keep from stumbling. My hair whipped around—followed by my torso—and I hooted, double-stepping to keep up.
The tempo raced ahead like a pulse, and by the end, Casey and I were both winded. He made a drink motion with his hands, shoulders heaving, and I nodded. He led the way and then split off for the bathroom, leaving me to order. I circled the bar, looking for a place to wedge in, but it was packed.
When had it gotten so crowded?
I ended up at the far end, past the pool tables where Frank was still deep in a game, near the sad-looking pinball machine shoved into the corner. I scooted in between an older woman with teased hair and pink lipstick and a lanky guy whose faded white tee was just this side of too small. He was speaking in a low voice to a pretty brunette girl with bangs in her eyes. She didn’t look up at him as he spoke and her shoulders were hunched with the smallness of someone used to being lectured.
Something about the tension between them set off my mental alarm.
None of my business. I shifted left. The older woman beside me caught my eye and smiled wide. I smiled politely back, catching her predator gleam a second too late. She opened her mouth but the words were cut off.
“What’ll it be?” the unshaven bartender interrupted.
I handed over my card to start a tab and ordered two beers. The moment Scruffy sauntered off, the woman pounced. “Helen Meckelberg-Gresham, I don’t believe we’ve met.”
She held out a hand and I caught sight of a diamond the size of a ferret lying across her finger. “I’m Jordan DeWalter,” I said, taking her hand for no other reason than simple manners.
Behind me, the guy let out a harsh string of curses on his date before dropping his voice low again. I tensed, but then Helen’s reaction distracted me completely.
“DeWalter?” she said, her smile faltering before blinking back at me full-wattage. “As in the Windsor county DeWalters?”
Crap. I hadn’t meant to give my full name. “Yes,” I managed through tight lips.
“Well, I’ll be … I’ve known Sharon and John for years. She and I pl
an the Labor Day parade together.”
A sick feeling washed over me at her recognition. I’d known it was a small town but dammit. I hadn’t actually expected to be recognized so easily. “Yes, ma’am,” I said, cursing my mom and her insistence on polite etiquette. “They’re my grandparents.”
I sighed.
Helen’s head tilted sideways and she raised our still-joined hands, patting mine with her free one. “Relax. They don’t call me Helen Magellan for nothing, girl. Just because I know everything about everyone in this town, don’t mean anyone else does.”
I hesitated, unsure what to say to that. “Helen Magellan?” I finally repeated.
She threw her head back and laughed. I barely noticed the bartender set two bottles in front of me and scurry away. “They think I don’t know about my nickname.” She leaned in close and whispered, “Honey, I invented it.”
My mouth quirked. “People will always talk,” I said, repeating something my dad used to say.
Helen nodded sagely. “The trick is to tell them what to say,” she added as if that were the second half of the adage.
“You didn’t happen to … know my father, did you, Helen?” I asked.
“Roy?” Helen made a clucking sound with her tongue. “Of course. Everyone knew Roy. And Amelia. Separately, they were the golden children around here. Together … they were something of a force. We all knew they were meant to be.”
I was speechless at that. No one had ever talked about my parents that way. Then again, no one had ever talked about them period. We’d grown up cut off from anyone who might’ve known them back then.
“And Amelia’s parents, Bob and Carol, where are they living now?” Helen asked.
I smiled, softening at the memory of my Gran and Papa. “They lived in Wethersfield for years but they’ve both passed on now,” I told her.
Helen clucked her tongue. “Sorry to hear that. They were both such wonderful people. Very supportive of Roy’s military career.”
Behind me, an elbow landed hard against my back, and my smile fell. I did my best to ignore it and planted my feet to keep from getting jostled.
I leaned closer to Helen, desperate for more and at a loss where to begin. I wanted to steal Helen away, take her home and keep her until she’d told me everything there was to know about my parents. This woman was quickly turning out to be one of the most interesting people I’d met in a long time.
“So, my dad,” I began. “What sports or hobbies—”
“What the fuck, Jenny?” a male voice suddenly yelled. An arm brushed mine and I was jostled again.
I whirled, my temper finally breaking, and found the guy behind me red-faced and tense as he faced off with his date. The girl’s hair hid most of it but I could see her rounded eyes and darting glances as she looked back and forth between him and me.
“Dude, keep it friendly,” I said, more worried about the girl than anything.
The guy took a step toward me so fast, I backed up at his unexpected aggression. His eyes blazed, but even underneath their fury and his rigid jawline, it was easy to see this guy wasn’t friendly even on a good day.
“Mind your own fucking business,” he said in a low voice that sent off warning bells.
I shot a look at the girl and saw fear written all over her timid expression. She ducked her head, letting her bangs obscure her face again, but I’d seen enough. Something inside me strained against whatever was happening here.
“Your momma should have taught you to watch your mouth around the ladies,” I shot back. “No wonder your girlfriend looks so dissatisfied.”
My smirk was wiped clean away as the guy’s hand fell on my shoulder—hard—and he shoved. Off balance, I tumbled backward into Helen.
“Oh!” she gasped and we both almost went tumbling.
A hand caught my waist, managing to right me just before I went heels over ass. I straightened and found Casey standing beside me, his furious gaze trained on my attacker.
On my left, Helen was being righted again by another bar customer. Frank rushed over from the pool tables and steadied Helen. “I’ll find Bobby right now,” he said. He shot a glance at Casey and then me before disappearing into the crowd already gathering behind us.
“Wayne, you’re a piece of shit and that’s not new. But go be a piece of shit somewhere else,” Casey said. He took a step forward, angling himself in front of me, his hands fisted hard enough to raise the sinewy muscles along his forearm.
“This doesn’t involve you, Luck. Move on.” Wayne’s angry eyes glinted and I knew, despite his words, he’d rather Casey stay. And fight.
Hell.
I did not want my first night out in Grayson to involve a bar fight.
“Jenny, everything okay here?” Casey asked, ignoring Wayne.
Wayne growled, but Casey kept his eyes pinned on the girl—Jenny. I watched her again and this time when her gaze lifted, she held Casey’s without flinching. No fear. And the way he said her name … I looked back and forth between them, sensing a history there.
She mumbled a few words that were lost over the music and low roar of voices.
Scruffy the bartender wormed his way through the small group of onlookers and planted his feet between Casey and Wayne. “You two piss-ants better take it outside or I’m calling police and your parents, you got that?”
Summer appeared beside me just then and I looked over at her, brows wrinkled. “Parents?” I echoed on a half-laugh.
“Don’t knock it. Country boys ’round here do not like having their momma called on them any more than the law.” She stepped up to Casey and I caught sight of Ford doing the same to Wayne from the other side. “Come on,” Summer said to Casey but he didn’t budge.
Neither, did Wayne.
Jenny looked at her boyfriend and then back—at me.
“Wayne, let’s go, man. You’ve had a few,” Ford said. “I’ll drive you home.”
Wayne twisted away from him and glared at me. “I heard your name earlier, you know. I know exactly who you are, and you ain’t welcome in this town or the next.”
I watched in surprised silence. Talk about a warm welcome.
“I mean it, Wayne,” Scruffy yelled. “Git!”
“Listen to them, Wayne,” Casey warned, chest puffing up as he squared off with Wayne. Even from here, I could see a vein sticking out in his neck. Seeing him so worked up was the only thing keeping my own temper at bay. That and my utter confusion over this guy’s dislike for me. Even if he somehow knew the story and took my grandparent’s side, how did he know anything about me personally?
“You know me?” I asked, craning to see around Casey.
“No, I don’t, and I’d just as soon keep it that way.” His lip curled in disgust. My cheeks heated even though I had no reason to be embarrassed. I couldn’t remember ever being so rudely rejected before. And in public.
“Screw you,” I said but my words were drowned out by Casey.
He stalked forward, shoving the bartender aside, and pointed a finger into Wayne’s chest. “You have exactly three seconds to get the hell out,” Casey said. “I won’t tell you again.”
“Casey, come on,” I said, tugging on his sleeve. But it was like tugging on granite. He didn’t move. “He’s not worth it, let’s just go,” I said, pulling harder to no avail.
“Two seconds,” Casey said.
Wayne took a deep breath, hocked something up from deep in his throat, and spit it at Casey’s feet.
Someone in the crowd gathered behind me—I suspected Helen—gasped.
“Fuck you,” Wayne said and Casey’s fist reared back so fast, I never saw it move.
Apparently neither did Wayne. The punch landed and sent Wayne’s face sideways. He stumbled backward, barely missing taking Jenny down as his back hit the wall. She squeaked and jumped aside.
Casey stood stock still, his hands fisted, while he waited for Wayne to recover.
“That’s it! The cops are on their way,” the bartend
er shrieked.
Summer slid in front of Casey, leaning close to whisper something I didn’t catch, and Casey blinked, finally breaking free of whatever fight club spell he’d fallen under. He let himself be jerked back and caught my hand in his as Summer propelled us toward the door.
Ford stayed, still hovering near Wayne as Scruffy ranted about both boys being banned and not getting blood on his floor. Wayne’s hand came away from his nose and a spray of red covered his top lip.
“The beers,” I said, trying to turn back just before Summer ushered us outside. “I have a tab.”
“Frank will get it,” Summer said. “It’s time to go.”
The parking lot was starkly quiet compared to the chaos we’d left behind. Casey huffed as Summer led us toward her car. His hand held tight to mine but he didn’t look over. No one spoke.
By the time we’d reached Summer’s car, the silence was bugging me. I tried veering away and sitting up front but Casey tugged me into the backseat with him.
“Aren’t we waiting for Ford?” I asked as Summer cranked the engine and began backing out.
“He’ll catch a ride with Frank,” she said, but her tone was flat and her eyes flicked to Casey in the rearview.
I looked over at Casey beside me in the backseat. “What the hell just happened?” I demanded.
But Casey only pressed his lips together and stared out the window. Summer sighed. “Wayne’s not the nicest guy,” she said and Casey snorted. “In high school, he was always talking shit about someone. Usually girls. Casey and Wayne didn’t exactly get along.”
“And Jenny, his girlfriend?” I still didn’t understand why they were acting so strangely about the whole thing. Or why Wayne had already decided he hated me.
“They’ve been dating about two years off and on,” Summer said. Again, her gaze flicked to Casey but he didn’t look up. His hand tightened in mine and I wondered what the hell for. Suddenly, everything was suspicious.
“Did you guys go to school with her?” I asked.
“Yes,” Summer said.
“Did you date her or something?” I asked, whirling on Casey as pieces clicked and shifted in my mind.
“What?” Casey finally blinked over at me, his brows drawn as if deeply confused—or deeply offended. “Yeah, we did. So what?” he asked and it grated the way he cast it off.
A Bet Worth Making (Grayson County #2) Page 14