The house was bathed in cherry wood stain; the hardwood floors, the furniture, even the mantel over the huge fireplace was all stained to perfectly match. I walked into the sitting room and chose an uncomfortable-looking armchair opposite my grandmother.

  My grandfather, John, kept walking straight through and disappeared into what looked like a mudroom. I heard a door open, and then a sharp bark as paws scraped over the floor in a hurry. A second later, two beagles appeared, mouths open, tongues out, as they hurried straight for me.

  “John, you are not going to let those things jump all over her right now,” Sharon scolded.

  The two dogs jumped up, straining to land their tongue on my face and settling for my hands and arms as I reached out to pet them.

  “They’re family too, they deserve to be here,” John said.

  “What are their names?” I asked, smiling down at the pups. At least someone in the house had greeted me warmly.

  “Butch and Sundance,” John said and I laughed.

  Our eyes met, and I smiled then turned back to the dogs. “They’re adorable,” I said.

  “They’re drooling on you,” Sharon said in disgust. She pinned John with a look and he frowned.

  “Come on, you two,” John said, adding a whistle. Butch and Sundance followed him out, tails and tongues still wagging as they disappeared. I listened as the back door opened and then closed again before everything went silent.

  I found Sharon watching me and suddenly wished I’d brought Casey with me after all.

  “Most people would have called first.” She frowned and before I could form a reply, added, “Your hair is lighter than your pictures.”

  “My … you’ve seen my picture?”

  “Of course,” she said like this wasn’t the first time we’d ever met. Like she hadn’t kicked my parents out, disowning my dad years ago and banishing him from the family.

  “Why?” I asked, sincere in my curiosity—and in the outrage that was getting harder to hide.

  “You are my granddaughter,” she said again, her brows drawing together.

  “Am I?” I asked, heat rising along my neck. “Because I could have sworn you told my father—your son—that he was no longer a part of your family before I was ever born. Which would make me a stranger. A guest at best. But definitely not your granddaughter.”

  Sharon’s eyes narrowed fractionally and her slender fingers tightened in her lap. Otherwise, she gave no reaction to my words and I knew then this woman was a force. “If that’s what you believe then forgive me for my confusion at why you’ve come in the first place,” she said coolly.

  “Believe me, I’m at a loss for that same damn answers right now,” I muttered.

  Sharon’s mouth tightened into a white line at that. I plunged onward before she could snap back and break what little hold left I had on my temper. “Look, my dad wanted us to meet. Despite everything that happened between you, he … I needed to come here. I didn’t have any choice.”

  It wasn’t warm fuzzies but it was the truth.

  Instead of offering up appreciation or admitting how hard this was for all of us, Sharon’s eyes lit with a gleam. “I still don’t understand. Your mother made it clear you wanted nothing to do with us. So, the only reason I can think of for you sitting here is—well, I can’t think of one actually.” She tilted her head at me, a movement that made me think of a snake coiling to strike. “Unless this is history repeating itself?”

  “Repeating itself? What does that even mean?”

  She rubbed her temples and blew out a breath, her shoulders sagging as if I’d somehow just defeated her. Except I had no effing idea what was even happening.

  “How much do you need?” she asked, standing and crossing to a two-tiered rolling desk. I stared at her back, uncomprehending, as she rummaged.

  “Need for what?” I asked.

  When she swiveled back to me, she held a checkbook and a pen poised over it—and that was all I needed to understand her meaning. If I’d had a plan in coming here today, this was not it.

  “Obviously it is none of my business whether you decide to keep it,” she said brusquely. “But know that my gift today is just that. A gift. And it will only happen once so if you think you can keep this child and I’ll stroke a check every time you hit a rough patch, you’re wrong. I told your father the same thing all those years ago.”

  “I bet you did,” I said, my teeth clenched, but she didn’t bat an eyelash.

  “I won’t have you walking in here after all these years just because you weren’t careful and taking the inheritance that dissolved the moment your—”

  “Whoa, whoa. You think I’m pregnant?” I put up a hand to stop the madness that was coming from her mouth.

  Sharon sat up straighter and looked down her nose at me. “Aren’t you?”

  The heat in my belly turned to nausea. I laughed, harsh and biting and with zero humor. “No. And even if I were, I damn sure would not come in here asking for your charity. I think we all know how that would turn out.”

  Sharon’s mouth tightened.

  I stood. “I don’t want your money. Trust me, after meeting you in person, I don’t want a goddamn thing from you. In fact, all I do want is to leave and go another twenty-five years without you in my life. I’ll see myself out.”

  Sharon didn’t move a muscle as I strode out, my keys still clutched tight in my fist. I saw red at the edges of my vision but managed to blink it back long enough to navigate back to the front door. I slammed through it and stomped outside.

  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.

  *.*.*

  Keep reading for book 4!

  Copyright ©2016

  Heather Hildenbrand

  A Risk Worth Taking, book 4

  (A Bet Worth Making)

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are use fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written consent of the publisher.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

  Editing by Kristina Circelli

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  Chapter One

  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 company 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?”