My mouth landed hot and sharp on hers.

  And with that, our bet was cast.

  Chapter Two

  Jordan

  Five days after my first run-in with Sharon and John, I stood back in my little alcove at the edge of the woods, observing and studying the progress so far for Summer and Ford’s new house on the hill. The afternoon sun played strangely across the wooden beams that crisscrossed what would be the living room when Summer’s house was complete. Overhead, dappled light slanted in through thin, green leaves and the branches above seemed to angle in as if they wanted to greet their newest friend. As if the house was already somehow a part of the natural order here. It was a reverential sort of magic to watch.

  As of today, footers and foundation were already done. Apparently, Casey’s call to Miss Harriet had lit a fire. All of my permits had come through and I had a direct line to call Harriet if I had questions about anything at all.

  Unfortunately, paperwork and construction were the only things moving fast. Since making the bet last weekend, Casey and I had agreed to let things proceed naturally, but so far, the only progress was not arguing over the remote every night. He hadn’t so much as held my hand. I was beginning to think he’d only been interested because he thought he couldn’t have it.

  But a lack of progress would only make it easier to win, I reminded myself. And honestly, more than ever, I wanted that. Especially now that it meant Casey would have to step up with his dirt bike business. After his initial confession at the rehab house, he’d spend the ride home telling me about the bike builds he’d done and the orders he still had to fill. His passion for the work shone through so clearly as he spoke. Maybe I could give him the push he needed to pursue it after I was gone.

  In the meantime, I was fighting with myself over how I felt at the snail’s pace of our … relationship? I’d counted on Casey as a distraction from my family problems. It was working. Maybe too well.

  Summer stood not far away talking to the lead contractor and I was tempted—for the billionth time—to talk to her about it. But it felt weird knowing their history. I wouldn’t want Casey talking to Gavin about me.

  I’d never had girlfriends back home. Not any I’d been willing to confide in anyway. Most of them were too busy falling all over my brother and I’d never trusted anyone enough to share my secrets.

  So I left it alone.

  Instead, I pulled my phone out and checked for new messages. On Monday, I’d had a long conversation with Gavin about my trip out to Windsor. He’d cussed a lot when he found out no one had delivered the news about Dad ahead of time. And he’d pep talked me for a while but after that, it just got to be depressing.

  He actually wanted me to go back over there and try again. For peace. Whatever that meant. The whole idea of walking back into that shit storm just made me want to crawl into bed and not come out until—never. So, I’d backed off from Gavin’s calls. He’d taken to texting instead.

  A new message blinked on my screen and my heart sank a little when I saw it was Gavin again, not Casey.

  Mom called. Said you still haven’t checked in. Call her!

  I sighed and punched out a noncommittal response. Mom and I weren’t not talking, but we weren’t talking either. Especially since I found out she’d been sending pictures of me to Sharon. But I couldn’t confront her about that without having her give me the third degree about my grandparents or insist I come home. And I wasn’t ready for that. Having Gavin breathing down my neck was bad enough.

  I tossed the phone on a makeshift worktable and sighed, rubbing my hands over my face. Someone brushed my elbow and I yelped, automatically bringing my fist back.

  “Whoa. It’s just me,” Casey said, backing away and throwing up his hands. “I come in peace.”

  I glared to cover up the wave of delight that speared through me at seeing him show up here. No way would I act excited to see him here after days of him practically ignoring me. “I have a feeling wherever you go, there is no peace,” I said.

  Casey’s brows rose. “Is that how we’re playing it today?”

  I sighed and let my shoulders fall. “No, we’re—I’m sorry. I’m just … I have a lot on my mind.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  “Want to not talk about it?”

  Now it was my turn to glance over, brow arched. Casey’s grin played at the corners of his mouth, just a hint of mischief, but it was enough. My mouth curved. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Do you have a pair of old jeans and boots?” he asked.

  “I…” This wasn’t where I thought this was going. “Yes, the ones I’m wearing—” I pointed down at my feet but Casey shook his head.

  “No, a nicer pair. Fancier.”

  “Sure,” I said, eyes narrowing now. Definitely not where I thought he’d go with that invitation. “What are you cooking up?”

  Casey’s eyes gleamed as he backed away. “Oh, you’ll see, city girl. You just wait.”

  Country music, heavy on the guitar, hit me the moment I walked into the dimly lit bar. The stuffy air hung with the scent of whiskey and fried chicken. Two steps later, I felt something crack underfoot and found a crushed peanut shell on the floor. Just ahead, Casey beckoned me to follow and I found myself entering my first country bar. Not that I could refuse with such a tight pair of jeans leading the way. I watched Casey’s butt in appreciation.

  Summer and Ford followed me inside—the other half of our double date.

  Both of them wore brown cowboy boots, scuffed along the toes and fancy embellishments along the rim. Mine were nondescript, but if I had to name the style, I’d go with city snob. Casey hadn’t been specific when he’d told me to wear boots, and I realized now his definition of footwear and mine were miles apart. I hadn’t understood we were coming to a country bar until we’d driven up and parked under the neon sign that blinked the words “The Tipsy Cow.”

  True to its name, several cowboy hat-sporting patrons lining the bar already looked well on their way. Smiles too big, laugh too loud, eyes too wandering. It was right out of a George Strait song. Gavin would have loved it.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” Summer said in my ear as she pushed past me, Ford at her heels.

  At her words, I straightened and fixed my expression so I wasn’t scowling. Ford shot me a smile as he passed and the two of them disappeared toward the far end of the bar.

  Casey hovered in front of me. “You want a drink?” he yelled over the band as he led me through the crowd.

  “Beer’s good,” I called back, turning sideways to fit between a heavyset man in dirty jeans and a thin man that reminded me of Jack Sprat from my mother’s nursery rhymes. Except for his rat tail. That wasn’t part of the story.

  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 plan 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.