A Bet Worth Making (Grayson County #2) (4 page)

Chapter Four

Casey

The short bike ride helped. A burst of wind in my hair, dust at my heels, the quiet cleared my head enough to see past Frank’s meddling. I needed that room rented. Since Ford had moved into Dean’s old camper to get some alone time with his fiancée—damned hippie and his love for roughing it—I’d missed the extra income and the easy way it fueled my bike-building hobby.

And in the months since he’d moved out, what had been only a hobby before had been niggling at me so often, I had a mind to turn it into a business. For now, the side work was nothing more than oil changes and tire replacements and the occasional rebuild. But maybe one day, it could be more. If I had a place … And the time.

I’d already packed my barn to the brim with spare frames and tires and project materials. I’d even stashed a bunch of parts in an unused shed on Dean’s farm. It was a gamble, but since I had the only key and we didn’t store anything else there, I’d kept it under wraps so far, only going there on weekends to grab things and bring them home. 

I knew if I told Frank, he would just invite me to piggyback off his shop in town again, but I also knew from experience that’s not what I wanted. If I were going to do this, it would have to be mine. Not an add-on or space-sharing over at Frank’s place. A dedicated garage space. A sign hanging out front with my name on it. The whole nine yards.

An idea like that was big, especially for me. But it would mean leaving Dean in the lurch at the farm and Frank high and dry at the shop. I didn’t know how to quit family. So I kept it to myself. They wouldn’t have taken me seriously anyway. Half the time, I didn’t take myself seriously.

I knew what they’d say if I brought it up. Just like the time I’d wanted to start a go-cart business or the mobile swimming pool venture … Yeah, that had gone over real well. I’d been talking about various projects and ideas for so long they all just smiled and nodded now. Summer encouraged me, but I knew she didn’t really expect me to go through with any of it. Not after so much hot air.

But this felt different. A custom dirt bike shop with some motocross race builds on the side. Maybe even an employee down the line for general motorcycle mechanics. I already had the contacts from my early high school years when I’d raced Motocross. A built-in customer base just waiting for me to get brave enough to go public.

It was a solid idea. One that made me excited and, after years of status quo, that was something. I’d even spent some days off crunching numbers, setting up a budget, and cataloging my spare parts. If Frank knew that, he’d probably have a coronary. But I didn’t want to spoil the follow-through with a bunch of empty talk. So, for now, I’d rent out the room and save my pennies. Which meant I needed to get home and face this Jordan character. And make it work.

The screen door was cracked open, the main door swung wide. That was the first thing I noticed when I pulled up in a cloud of late-afternoon dust. I slid to a stop, skidding sideways as I pulled up alongside my pickup, and knocked the kickstand into place at the same time I cut the engine.

No helmet to remove. Probably stupid. Okay, definitely stupid. But I’d stuck to dirt roads and grass fields as I took my time getting home. And sometimes I just needed the wind cutting across my face.

I squinted in the angled light at a slender figure on the porch. Probably Summer. Waiting to confront me about tearing out of work and leaving Jordan hanging. I braced myself, but the figure I saw as I approached wasn’t a familiar head of hair, though it was decidedly female.

I dismounted and whipped back for a second look. And stopped dead.

Definitely female.

Dark blonde with a few lighter shades streaking through. Pale skin with a tint of pink on her cheeks. Long, smooth legs stretched the length of the porch step, soaking up the rays. The setting sun had absolutely nothing to do with it. This chic was scorching hot.

I strode toward the house, a curious half-smile on my lips, a “hello there” on the tip of my tongue. As I neared, I saw that the pink tinge coloring the fair-haired beauty’s cheeks was more of a red flush. There was a beer in her hand—a fact that somehow made her more attractive—and I spotted two more empties cast aside nearby.

Shit, how long had she been out here? And why was she out here? Was she a friend of this Jordan person? Hell, was she his girlfriend?

God, please don’t let this beautiful woman belong to my new roommate. That would just be mean.

Suddenly, the girl’s eyes swung my way and narrowed viciously. The hello I’d been about to offer was chased away by her heated stare. Very deliberately, she raised a beer to her lips—my beer, I realized with a jolt as I recognized the label—and took a swig. I watched her throat contract as she swallowed and, against all conscious intent, I felt my jeans tighten. Well, shit.

“Can I help you?” she asked coolly.

I raised a brow at that. “I live here. Can I help
you
?”

“You…?” Her death-ray stare turned confused then horrified. “What do you mean? Who are you?”

“I’m Casey Luck. This is my house,” I said, slowly and with plenty of enunciating.

Was she slow? Had the heat gotten to her? God, please don’t let the beautiful woman on my porch be mentally handicapped.

This was, by far, the most praying I’d done in years.

Her horrified expression intensified to something like outrage. “You’re Casey?” She jumped up, crumpling her can of beer in her fist. Impressive. I hoped it was empty, though. What a waste. “
You’re
Casey?” she repeated. “You’re sure?”

“Uh, yep. For about twenty-five years now. So, yeah, pretty damn sure.” She stared at me in a way that made me shift my weight and question my own identity for a split second. “Is there something wrong? Are you here with…?” I trailed off as I spotted a single duffel bag behind her. I did a quick check of the yard. Empty besides me and Unstable. “Wait … where’s your boyfriend?” I asked, swinging back to her intense blue eyes.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” Her tone could’ve cut granite.

I stared at the single bag again. It was gender-neutral save for the small pink ribbon tied to the handle. My eyes widened and I realized I’d been the slow one. No, wait. I’d been played. “You’re Jordan?”

“Obviously,” she snapped.

“Huh.” I eyed her again and decided it was safer to stare down the bag.

Instead of being angry at her condescending tone, I was intrigued.
You little rascal, Frank
. I hadn’t seen this coming, not one bit. It wasn’t like I took on female roommates. As a rule, I avoided it. Ever since college when my roommate, Kevin, had let his sister stay with us and then he’d found her and I conserving space by sharing a bed. One thing led to another and I left with a black eye—and no home to go back to. Never again, I’d said to myself.

I narrowed my eyes as that memory faded into this moment. Was Frank trying to fix me up? He had to know that never ended well in a roomie situation. Or maybe he didn’t. Frank was from the “do what’s proper era” and hadn’t fit in then either. Who knew what he’d been thinking.

“Huh,” I said again.

“You sound like Frank,” she said. I decided not to try and answer that one. “Ugh. I can’t believe I sat out here all freakin’ afternoon just so Frank could fix me up with his redneck son.”

“Whoa, whoa, sweetheart,” I said, catching her elbow before she could stomp off. Her eyes widened in surprise, but I kept my most backwoods drawl in my words and narrowed my eyes at her. “Rednecks don’t do it for you, fine. No need to go name-calling. I’m just as surprised as you are about this.”

She sighed, her hair fluttering along her lashes before sticking to her forehead again. “Right. Sorry.” She shook her head and again, I was mesmerized by the way her damn hair moved. “I’m grumpy from the heat. And my car died. And now you’re here and I don’t have a place to go and—”

She broke off and descended the steps, shoving her half-crumpled beer can into my hands. Her eyes, the color of a crisp mountain spring, found mine and bored holes. I could almost taste the mad rolling off her. And I would’ve felt bad for being partly responsible for her anger, if I hadn’t been so busy inhaling the scent of her perfume. It was a musky scent that was somehow fragile and fancy all at once. The evidence of perspiration and the trace of beer only added to the assault on my senses.

I drank it in, wanting nothing more than to lean closer and drown myself in it. In her. My jeans tightened again and I blinked myself back to the present. Dammit, she was speaking, and I had no idea what she’d just said.

“What?” I asked, trying to get my bearings.

“I said I drank your last beer.” Her tone had gone from apologetic to accusing again and I’d somehow missed what had brought on the change. “It’s the least you could do for leaving me stranded out here.” She whirled and retrieved her bag from the porch, stomping down the steps and headed for the edge of the house.

“Where are you going?” I asked, confused and determined to catch up. Damn this girl had mood swings.

“Anywhere but here,” she snapped without turning back.

Her attitude alone probably made her too much trouble, but watching the curve of her ass as she made her exit was too much to let go so easily. Besides, the sun was already setting and, by the looks of it, she didn’t even have a car.

“Wait,” I called.

She didn’t. I hadn’t expected her to.

I jogged to catch up and then finally stepped in front of her, blocking her path. She scowled. “What?”

“Did you see the room?” I asked. She didn’t answer but she didn’t stomp off, either. I held up the beer. “I’m assuming someone came by and let you in.”

Her chin jutted out. More attitude. Defensiveness. “I didn’t break in if that’s what you’re asking. Summer unlocked it, showed me around.”

So Summer knew. And she hadn’t called to warn me. She’d pay for that.

I kept my expression neutral and nodded. “What’d you think?”

Her anger dialed back. She regarded me with a wry look. “I think you need to do the dishes.”

I bit back a snicker or the urge to tell her I was hoping that would be her job. Something told me that wouldn’t go over well here. “About the room? What’d you think?”

She sniffed. “It’s fine.”

I hesitated. Girls for roommates were trouble. I knew that. It could go south in the best situations. And by best, I meant platonic. Nothing muddying it up. A girl like Jordan wasn’t ever going to feel platonic. Not to any guy with a pulse. Certainly not to me if the straining muscle in my jeans was any indication. Shit. When was the last time a girl had made me hard by yelling at me?

But I needed that money if I wanted to continue my secret side projects. And despite Frank’s underhanded attempt at matchmaking, I knew he’d only done it from a place of caring. He wanted to see me doing something with myself. Jordan made me want to do all sorts of somethings. I shook that image away before it could sharpen. Not a good time.

At any rate, Jordan was carless. Homeless. I wasn’t sure her reason for coming to Grayson, but I wasn’t going to send her away just before dark. Or worse, chase her away. What kind of asshole would that make me?

I decided to take a shot against my better judgment. Against any sort of judgment, really. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

“It’s yours if you want it,” I said. “The room, I mean. And I’m sorry I left you stranded here. I didn’t know until a little while ago that you were here. And then Frank sort of sprung it on me and,” I smiled an apology, “he wasn’t exactly forthcoming with the fact that you were…”

“A female?” she finished.

“Yeah,” I admitted.

Her eyes, which had cleared to marginally friendly, narrowed again. She crossed her arms which only made it harder not to look at her ample chest. I forced my eyes up. “So you would’ve been here sooner if you’d known I was a girl?” she asked. “Because if you think for one second that me rooming with you is going to get you laid you are so sadly mistaken, I should buy you a condolence card now.”

“Whoa, whoa,” I said, holding up a hand in surrender. “That’s not what I meant. I just, geez, I’m trying to apologize. Obviously you didn’t know I was a guy.” Now it was my turn to eye her. “Would you have come out or waited for me if you’d known?”

She pursed her lips.

“Ha! Exactly. Double standard.”

“It’s different,” she muttered.

I felt the smile coming and tried to rein it in. I was enjoying knocking her sideways a little after all that attitude. But I still needed her to agree to take the room.

“Not if we don’t make it different,” I said. “And from the looks of it, this is your best option.”

It was a bluff and I wasn’t sure it’d work. She didn’t readily agree but she didn’t walk away either. I took that last part as a good sign.

“I don’t know,” she said finally. There was something heavy going on behind that expression. I had no idea what. This girl was hard to read. Most girls were so emotional, but this one, this one was closed up like a stone tower.

It made me want to penetrate the walls. And not in a dirty way. Okay, maybe a little bit in a dirty way.