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 rooms 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.

  I thought about making a sarcastic comment, letting it all roll off like a joke. It was my programmed response to anything heavy. But this time, I didn’t.

  Instead, I caught strands of her sunlit hair in my fingers, stroking it softly. Then, I slid my fingertips up her arm until my hand rested lightly on her shoulder. Tension and attraction zipped between us but I left it there, not egging it on like I normally would.

  For once, I didn’t want to skip the conversation. “You want to tell me about it?” I asked quietly.

  The refusal was there on the tip of her tongue; I could see it. But then she seemed to change her mind. She tugged my hand and together we sat on the porch step. She was going to talk. To me. About her day. It was the smallest thing—but for Jordan, I knew it was huge.

  “Everything was fine at first. When I drove up, I met my … John. My dad’s dad. He was nice, sort of. We bantered. He changed when I told him who I was, though. And then Sharon, his wife, invited me inside.” She spoke haltingly and I could see she was still processing it all even now. I waited while she picked at her boot. “She wanted to know why I’d come after all this time. She accused me of wanting her money. She thought I was pregnant.”

  “What the hell?” I blurted, staring at her profile. I hadn’t seen that one coming. Judging from the rigidity in her jaw as she stared ahead, she hadn’t either.

  Jordan finally looked over at me then shook her head. “She said something about history repeating itself. I think…” Her brow furrowed. “My dad said that’s how it happened for him. The night he told them my mom was pregnant with me, they disowned him. Told him he was no longer a part of the family.”

  “Why would they do that?” I asked.

  “They didn’t like my mom. Thought my dad had married down or something. They fought over it a lot according to Mom and I guess getting pregnant with me was the last straw. They told him to get out and never come back. My parents and Gavin moved to New England and we never spoke to them again.”

  “God, Jordan, that’s awful. I’m sorry. I can’t imagine… Family is supposed to support you, not judge you and punish you for how you live your life.”

  She sighed. “My parents understood that. They were great. In fact, my dad forgave them even though they never reached out to ask. Mom says they wrote asking about us kids. Gavin called them once right after he graduated high school, but I refused to talk. The past few years, my parents encouraged me to contact them, to try and establish some sort of relationship.”

  She shook her head and I saw the familiar burn of anger on her cheeks. It was the same expression she’d worn the way we met. It was her wall, I realized. Her layer of protection against feeling whatever it was her family’s issues threatened to make her feel.

  “I never contacted them. I refused to forgive them,” she said at last. “It’s not like they were actually apologizing. They never so much as sent a birthday card. And then today … with their assumptions and judgment … Obviously, they aren’t the kind of people I want in my life anyway.”

  “So, you’re done then,” I said, hating how those assholes had made her feel. They clearly had no idea who Jordan was, and they didn’t deserve to from the sound of it.

  “No. I have to hear them out over what happened with my parents in order to satisfy Dad’s request.” Her expression crumpled. “God, someone could have at least notified them he’d passed.”

  “They didn’t know?”

  She shook her head. “When they didn’t come to the funeral, I just thought they were being hateful again,” she whispered. “Anyway … they know now,” she added and the heartbreak in those three words took a minute for me to understand. She’d been the one to tell them. And it hadn’t changed a damn thing.

  “Shit, Jordan, I’m sorry.”

  “Me too. I can’t believe Dad thought this would be a good idea.” Her voice wobbled then steadied again. “He was always my number one fan. As a kid but especially when I chose design. He said when I was ready, he’d help me open my own firm. We would be partners. He was my best friend. But now … this promise he asked of me … I hate it. And I’m angry with him for asking it.”

  “And you feel guilty being angry when you should be sad,” I added.

  She nodded. “I wish I didn’t have to go back and do all of that again. I just want to move on. Stop being angry so I can just miss him.”

  “You could just give up,” I said, knowing full well what her answer would be to that. “Forget about them and move on now. You tried. Your dad would understand.”

  Jordan didn’t answer. She leaned down, picking at a loose shard of wood on the porch step.

  “You think you’ll let him down if you don’t finish it,” I said finally. Jordan looked up at me in surprise. “I know a thing or two about it,” I admitted.

  “With … Frank?” she asked, her brows scrunching.

  I nodded even though my pulse was racing. The only thing I’d never told my own family, and here I went spilling it to a girl. “In Philly, I did a two-year program for auto mechanics. Frank paid for it and we both knew it was so that I’d use that knowledge to come back here and work for him at the shop and help Dean out on the farm. Cars, tractors, that sort of thing. What he doesn’t know is that I was accepted into a motorcycle program my last year on a full scholarship. I did that alongside the auto program.”

  I looked down at my hands, lost in thought as I recalled that final year of school. The hours I spent with my instructor after putting things together, playing with the factory schematics until I’d found my own way of building the bikes. And the months that followed as I came back home, secret diploma in hand.

  “You never told Frank about it?” Jordan asked.

  “Never told anyone.” I stared down at my hands. It sounded crazy to say it aloud after all this time.

  “So you what? Graduated with two degrees?” she asked.

  I nodded, my gaze darting around the yard. Why was it so damn hard to admit this? I’d kept quiet because I didn’t want to brag but that wasn’t what it felt like now. Instead, I felt like a dumbass for waiting so long to tell someone. “One for auto mechanics and another, with honors, for motorcycles.”

  “With honors?” she echoed and I ducked my head.

  I sighed and stared up at the gathering dusk. “Top of my class actually.”

  “Casey, that’s great. Why aren’t you doing anything with it?” she asked, shaking my arm. “Surely you could find time for both, right? And Frank would understand. He’d—”

  “I have a history of great ideas … and a lack of follow-through. The mobile pool business was a highlight. A tarp lining the back of my pickup. Charge kids for a quick dip in the summertime.” I snorted. “The last time I came up with a new business idea, Frank just shook his head. I don’t want this to be a joke. Besides, I can see how happy it made Frank when I entered into the family business working on the farm.” She opened her mouth to argue, but I cut her off. “It’s not something I want to get into.” I gave her a wry smile. “That fear of disappointing the people you love—it’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

  Jordan softened, nodding and taking my hand in hers. I tried to hide my surprise, but the contact gave me a jolt I wasn’t expecting. Our eyes met and I knew she’d felt it too, the electricity between us. Instead of pulling away, she hung on tighter.

  The urge to kiss her warred with my determination to take things slow. To make sure it meant something. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d turned down the chance to go fast.

  The waning daylight played across her bared legs and I watched as she absently rubbed her free hand over her shins. “Come on,” I said, pushing to my feet and offering my hand.

  “Where are we going?” she asked as I led her back to the truck.

  I’d made it a couple of steps when I felt the first rain drop, cold and fat, land on my cheek. “Home.” I picked up the pace as the rain fell harder. “You get first dibs on the shower. I’ll even make dinner.”

  “What about your dirt bike?” she asked, her hand lingering in mine as she stared up at me with heavy-lidded eyes. Rain hit her hair and shoulders, and despite the chill of it on my arms and neck, my insides heated as I stared back at her.

  “It’ll be fine until we get home. From there, I can unload it myself.” I could have loaded it myself too but I wasn’t about to tell her that.

  The rain had me ready to hoist her into the cab and run for the driver’s side, but Jordan didn’t move. She hadn’t even acknowledged the rain yet. Instead, she stared up at me, unmoving.

  Heavy drops splattered against her cheeks and the top of her head, seeping into her hair. We’d be soaked soon.

  Jordan’s hand found mine and held. “Thank you,” she said. “For today.”

  “Anytime.” I fought the urge to reach for her and tangle my hands in her hair.

  Something strange passed over her face. “I agree to the bet,” she said and I froze, realizing my hand had already started to rise toward her cheek.

  “What?” I shook my head to clear it.

  “The bet. My twenty-four hours is up. I owe you an answer and I’ll agree but I want to amend the terms.” She stepped closer until the toe of her boot was against mine. Water sloshed at our feet.

  I shifted my weight, confused at my disappointment. A heaviness settled inside my chest but I shook it away. I wanted the bet, I reminded myself. “What’s your proposal?” I asked.

  “If I win, you have to do something about your dirt bike obsession.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know, whatever it is you’re thinking of but too scared to do. Start your own business. Open a dealership. At least tell Frank.”

  I licked my lips, certain this was not what I had in mind when I’d spilled my guts to her just now. I’d just wanted her to know I understood. “Fine,” I said, irritated at being handled. “Then I will amend my terms as well.”

  “Name it,” she said.

  “If I win—”

  “You mean if I fall for you,” she put in.

  “Yes. If I become more than just a fling to you,” I said, jerking my head backward, “you take on this house as your next project.”

  Jordan’s eyes widened as she glanced behind me. “This house?” she repeated. “But we don’t even know who it belongs to or if they’ll let me renovate—”

  “They’ll let you. You’ll stay until the job’s done. Those are my terms.” I waited, certain she’d point out a project like this could take months. If she did, I’d happily tell her that was the damn point.

  But she didn’t. Her eyes narrowed and then slowly her full lips curved into a secretive smile. Her blonde hair shone in the dying sunlight and I wanted to fist it in my hands and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe.

  I leaned in, strangely out of breath.

  “You have a deal, Casey Luck.” Jordan licked her lips, her blue eyes trained on mine. “You want to shake on it?” she asked, close enough her breath washed over me. It was sweet, like I knew she’d taste. And dammit, I wasn’t holding back any longer.

  “Not a chance.” I hooked a finger into her belt loop and yanked her against me. “This one deserves to be sealed with a kiss.”