By the time we pulled to a stop in a dust cloud, I swung my leg over and stood with a smile, fully relaxed despite whatever lay ahead.

  Casey killed the engine and slid his helmet off, helping me with the clasp on mine before we both shed everything extra. He hung it all on the handlebars and pegs and then grabbed my wrist.

  “What—” I began.

  His mouth covered mine, firm and unrelenting as he planted fast kisses on my lips. He released me with a smile, grabbing my hand. “I just wanted to remind you whose side I’m on before we go in there,” he said. “Come on.”

  Breathless and more reassured than I wanted to let on, I let him lead me up the porch steps, past the columns, and rang the bell beside the screen door. The moment the chimes went off inside, barking began, muffled until the door swung open a second later.

  “Morning.” John waved at us, the dogs hustling along behind him from the hallway. They sniffed around the edges of the door and John used his foot to hold them back while we slipped inside.

  “John, this is Casey Luck,” I said, making introductions. I bent low to greet the dogs rather than navigating whether John might want a handshake or anything else resembling friendly or familial social etiquette.

  Above me, I caught Casey and John exchange a handshake before footsteps sounded on the hardwood.

  I straightened as Sharon appeared, an iced drink in her hand. “Jordan,” she said simply, her tone as cold as the ice-blue color of her pants. And then with sharp eyes on Casey, “I didn’t realize you were bringing a friend.”

  “Is that a problem?” I asked.

  “We woke up to a flat this morning,” Casey said, pushing past the dogs to extend his hand to Sharon. She eyed it uncertainly. “I gave Jordan a ride,” he explained.

  Sharon took his hand delicately and then quickly drew away.

  “That your dirt bike?” John asked, staring out the screen door with interest. “What brand is that thing?”

  “It’s a Yamaha frame. Custom design,” Casey said and I shot him a proud smile.

  John turned to Casey, brows lifted. “You build it yourself?”

  “I did.”

  John rubbed a hand over his stubble, nodding. “Huh. Well, the boys are all out back.” John clapped Casey on the back and led him to the back of the house. “You ever shot a .22?”

  “Man, that was my first gun,” Casey said as they disappeared out the back door with the dogs at their heels.

  I moved to follow but Sharon blocked my path. “The women are in the sunroom,” she said as if correcting some mistake on my part.

  “I…” I sighed and followed her, biting my tongue. It’s not like I had any desire to shoot a gun. I’d stayed away from them my whole life. Even when Dad and Gavin had driven to upstate New York to try hunting a few times, I’d declined. I didn’t have anything against them in general, but personally, I didn’t trust my ability to handle something so deadly without hurting someone, namely myself.

  But if I had to choose between that and Sharon—I’d choose weapons any day. Still, it wasn’t worth starting trouble over. I was sure a much better reason would come along.

  Sharon led me past the living room I’d sat in last time and into the sunroom. The air grew warmer underneath the bright sunlight that poured in through wall-to-wall windows. A ceiling fan stirred the ends of my hair as I passed underneath. At the far end of the room, a wicker couch and matching chairs sat arranged around a glass-top wicker coffee table laid out with muffins, fruit, and lemonade.

  A robust woman with the brightest floral blouse I’d ever seen stood and smiled at me as I shuffled in. It took me a moment to realize hers was a face I already knew.

  “Helen,” I said warmly, hugging her when she stretched her arms toward me.

  “Jordan, it’s so nice to see you again,” she said, drawing back and studying my face. “How are you? I’ve been so worried all week after— well, we both had quite a night out last weekend, didn’t we?”

  “I’m fine,” I assured her, sneaking a glance at Sharon.

  Sharon had taken a seat in the farthest wicker chair in what I suspected was her Majesty’s reigning throne, as it provided the best view of the yard where half a dozen men were gathered off the back deck. I did a quick scan for Wayne and relaxed when I didn’t see him among the men gathered.

  I turned back and found Sharon eyeing me coolly, nothing in her expression giving her away. “I heard about your meeting with Wayne,” she said.

  “Meeting,” I repeated, my brows lifting.

  “Yes, I’ve spoken to him about his behavior and he’s agreed that it was not acceptable.” She poured a glass of lemonade and set it in front of me while she spoke. “He’s promised to practice more self-control going forward.”

  “Not acceptable?” I looked from her to Helen, who looked away, clearly unwilling to get involved. I gripped the arms on my wicker chair. “I think that’s selling it a little short.”

  Sharon nodded at my lemonade. “If you’re determined to pick apart everything I say, today isn’t going to go much better than the last time.”

  “If you’re determined to downplay your family’s mistreatment of me, I’d say you’re right,” I shot back.

  “Oh, dear. I should go,” Helen said, setting aside her napkin and rising. “This seems like a family matter.”

  “Stay,” Sharon and I said together.

  Helen sat.

  Sharon cleared her throat. “After giving it some thought, I realized I may not have phrased my questions as … politely as I should have before.” She met my eyes in a level stare. “I’d simply like to know why you’re here.”

  Points for directness.

  I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. “Dad was always honest with us—Gavin and I—about why you weren’t in our lives. I’ve known my whole life what happened here between you and him, and frankly, I didn’t want anything to do with a family that would cast out their own simply for disagreeing with his choices.”

  Sharon shifted but I ignored her and pressed on, knowing this was the only way. To be honest and lay it all out.

  “I’m here because it was Dad’s dying wish that I come here and meet you. If for nothing else than to hear you out. I agreed and a couple of months after he … after he passed, I made arrangements.”

  “Arrangements,” Sharon repeated. “Including moving in with a boy?”

  I fought the urge to squirm underneath Sharon’s sharp eyes. I was not explaining myself to her. “Yes.”

  “A boy who, conveniently, allows you to borrow his vehicles since you don’t seem to own anything yourself.”

  “My car’s in the shop over in Grayson,” I said through gritted teeth.

  Sharon huffed at that, and my temper flared.

  “I’m not here under any gold-digging or devious pretenses. I don’t want a thing from you. I want only to meet you, clear the air, and go home and get on with my life.” I stopped there, furious with myself for the tears that burned at the corners of my eyes.

  Sharon’s gaze was unforgiving as she studied me—and I only barely managed to hold back the tears that threatened to give away how much it still bothered me to talk about him and this stupid deal he’d forced me into.

  Finally, she looked down, taking time to smooth her pants and fold her hands in her lap. “I see. I don’t want to hold you up.” Hurt flashed in her eyes and I was too surprised by it to know how to respond.

  “That’s not the only reason you’re here,” Helen said when the silence stretched.

  I shot her a glance, jolted back to the present. “Right. Um.” I struggled to get my bearings. Summer’s house. Hadn’t I mentioned that? “A local hired me for the design on her new place,” I said.

  Sharon perked up—not friendly, more … nosy. “What sort of design?” she asked.

  “Her house,” I said. “As in, the architectural design of it…?”

  Sharon’s eyes registered surprise and I fought off the insult that lay there. “My, my, that is impressive,” she said but her tone made it hard to tell if it was a compliment. “And you’ve gone to school for that sort of thing or…?” She let her question hang and tilted her head at me.

  That sent me over my limit. I shot to my feet just as a gunshot sounded from the backyard. “What—?” I jerked my head to the window and found Casey holding a rifle against his shoulder.

  He turned and met my eyes, a half-smile curving his mouth. When he spotted me, his enjoyment fell away. He frowned, handed the gun back to John, and started for the house.

  I turned back to Sharon. “I appreciate the lemonade,” I said, although we all knew I hadn’t touched my glass. “I better be going.”

  “So soon?” Helen twisted in her seat, concern and regret mixing in her expression.

  Sharon’s, however, was a neutral mask.

  “I have a lot of work to do for the house.” I glared at Sharon. “Those crayon drawings won’t color themselves.”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake.” Sharon rose and somehow rounded on me before I could make it three steps. She blocked my path, hands on her hips, fury and frustration finally showing through.

  I crossed my arms, secretly satisfied to know I got to her. “You’re in my way, Grandma,” I said.

  She huffed out a breath, her nostrils flaring. “I understand I’ve hurt you, and I’m sorry, but did you ever stop to think meeting you is just as hard on me as it is you? Maybe harder considering you had the benefit of knowing you were coming.”

  “You want me to feel sorry for you?” I asked, ignoring the twinge of compassion already working its way to the surface. She’d apologized. I wonder how often that happened.

  “I want you to accept there are things about the situation you don’t know. And if you aren’t going to give me a solid chance, tell me now so I can stop making an effort.”

  “This is you making an effort?”

  She laughed, a humorless sound. “You’re not trying very hard either, you know. Marching in here with that giant chip on your shoulder doesn’t help matters.”

  Her words got to me more than I wanted to admit. Was it possible my defensive stance had started this whole standoff? I thought over how I’d come here the first time, guns cocked and loaded so to speak. Not that it excused her comments that day, her assumptions, or that she also had a chip on her shoulder, but—

  Damn.

  She wasn’t wrong.

  “What things don’t I know?” I asked.

  Sharon frowned. “There are more reasons for our concern about money than you think. Your father didn’t tell you what really happened—”

  “Unbelievable,” I said, shaking my head and fuming. “You’ll stoop to dragging my dad into this? You’ll call him a liar now just to save face in front of me for what you did?”

  The back door opened and slammed closed. Sharon didn’t answer. We stood in tense silence, staring at each other.

  Casey appeared in the doorway. “You okay?” he asked, looking back and forth between us.

  Before I could form an answer, the door opened again and John appeared, dogs at his heels.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake,” Sharon muttered. She turned to the men. “We’re fine.”

  “I’m ready when you are,” I told Casey.

  He turned to John and shook his hand, already making our goodbyes. I didn’t speak to Sharon again, waiting near the door while Casey hugged Helen.

  At the door, I promised John I’d come back again. It wasn’t a lie. I planned to return one more time. I just wondered which request motivated me more—my dad’s dying wish or my own desire to put Grandma in her place once and for all.

  Chapter Five

  Casey

  I woke on Sunday to the sounds of angry chick rock streaming from the direction of Jordan’s bedroom. She’d shut herself in last night and I’d left her alone, letting her have some space. The visit hadn’t gone well. Actually, the visit had apparently sucked. But Jordan hadn’t said much about it. I’d known only from the stark fury on her face that it’d been a train wreck. Even after the motorcycle ride home, she’d been closed off and short. I hadn’t seen her since.

  In the back of the house, a bedroom door slammed. I looked up from the Sunday comics just as Jordan stomped past on the way to the fridge. She yanked the door open, pulled the orange juice out, and drank straight from the carton.

  “Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed,” I said.

  Jordan slammed the fridge shut and glared, and I wondered if teasing hadn’t been the way to go after all. I’d gotten to know her well enough to recognize when she was in the mood to fight. “My bed’s against the wall. It only has one side,” she shot back.

  “Mine has two,” I said as off-handedly as I could. But she still wouldn’t spend the night in my room and it bothered me.

  “I’ve told you—”

  “Taking it slow so no one gets hurt later when you leave,” I said, waving a hand and going back to my paper. “Got it.”

  Jordan sighed. “What are you reading?” She wandered closer and peered over my shoulder. “Comics.”

  I looked up at her. “I don’t want you to be intimidated by me just because I read,” I said and Jordan’s frown quirked up.

  “I didn’t know we got the paper,” she said, pulling out the chair beside me and grabbing the Business section.

  “I know. It’s very city of me, isn’t it?” Jordan shot me a wry look. “Frank subscribed me for my birthday last year. Said it would make me more grown up.” I shook my head remembering that discussion.

  She lowered the paper again. “Have you talked to him yet?”

  “About…?”

  “Dirt bikes, Case.”

  I went back to reading my cartoon strip. “No.”

  “You promised,” she began but I shook my head.

  “No, I bet on it. That’s different.” I kept my eyes trained on the paper, the words floating together illegibly as I pretended to read. “I know you think I’m going to lose,” I said, “but until I do, it’s my decision about the bikes. Speaking of which…” I rose and tossed the paper aside, grabbing Jordan by the elbows and hauling her up. “My prize,” I said and kissed her hard on the mouth.

  Jordan shook with laughter underneath me for a split second and then the kiss worked its way to a boil between us. Jordan pressed herself against me and I responded. My hands traveled the length of her curves until I hooked my palms underneath her ass and lifted her into the air.

  Jordan’s responding squeal drove me, and I kissed her harder, adjusting her against me until she fit perfectly, center to center. Her arms wrapped around my neck and her legs wound around my waist. Perfect fucking fit.

  I kissed her until I couldn’t feel my legs and then I eased us both down and sat in the chair. Jordan’s legs unwound and finally landed softly on the floor. She eased back, her face flushed, staring down at me with eyes that practically sparked blue flames.

  I knew what she wanted, but I decided not to press it. Keep things slow, she kept saying the other night when I’d asked her to come to bed with me. Two could play her little game.

  “What’s the plan today, slick?” I asked.

  Jordan shifted away and the tension between us died off. “I guess I’m doing whatever you’re doing,” she said slowly.

  I tapped her leg until she slid off and then rose to my feet. “I have a project due to a customer this week so I’m headed out to work in the garage for a bit.”

  Jordan perked up. “Can I help?” she asked.

  “I didn’t peg you for a grease monkey.” I eyed her very clean white blouse and jean shorts. “You might want to change.”

  “Sure,” she said, “I can do that. Meet you in the garage in ten.”

  I stared after her, smiling, as she hurried out.

  In the garage, I set up shop, pulling out the pit bike I was rebuilding for an old Motocross buddy and laying out all my tools nearby. I fiddled with the music, leaving the station alone but lowering the volume a little for Jordan’s benefit. Then, I sat on the overturned milk crate that was my chair and got to work.

  Thirty minutes went by and still no Jordan.

  I finished tightening the screws on the engine case and tossed the screwdriver aside, heading for the house.

  Inside, Jordan’s bedroom door was still closed. How long did it take to yank on a pair of old jeans?

  Halfway down the hall, I heard her voice raised in heated conversation. I paused outside her door.

  “…just want to be done with this,” Jordan said, and under the irritation coating the words, I could hear her exhaustion. “I don’t know what she meant about not knowing the whole story. It was probably a load of bullshit intended to confuse me. Either way, Dad was my family, not her.”

  I leaned in, my hand raised and ready to knock, but her next words stilled me.

  “No, Gavin. I just want to fulfill my promise and get out of here.”

  I tried to tell myself she was just worked up about her family. She meant she wanted to get away from them. Not me.

  Gavin must have called her on it and she added, “The house will be done on schedule. The designs are solid. I’ve got another few weeks here and then I’m out. Trust me, there is nothing for me here.”

  I lowered my hand slowly and rubbed absently at what felt like the aftereffects of a gut punch. Nothing here for her.

  Well, she’d warned me.

  I found my way out and back to the garage, losing myself in the work. The engine case was a beast to crack but I didn’t mind. Using my muscles was a great way to drain the tension that’d built over what I’d heard back there. A few new screws and I was ready to reseal it again. Too bad the satisfaction felt empty.

  Jordan came out a while later but I kept the radio up and my head down.

  Any conversation she made, I returned. I never let on what I’d heard. What would I say anyway?

  She hadn’t told her brother anything she hadn’t said to me already.

  Maybe it was just my turn to realize she meant it.