In a few short weeks, Jordan was leaving. Sure, I’d lose the bet—but that didn’t bother me nearly as much as knowing she’d take a part of me with her when she went.

  Chapter Six

  Jordan

  For the next couple of weeks, Casey and I became more and more inseparable. By July, we had a schedule. Get up, go to work, come home—stay attached at the hip for the rest of the night. Or … attached at other parts. I even slept in his room most nights.

  Slowly, inch by inch, the sadness that had weighed on my chest since Dad’s death began to lift. Casey was fun and quick-witted and full of teasing. He made me laugh. He coaxed me into talking about myself, told hilarious stories about growing up with everyone on the farm. And he never pressured for more than I was ready to give. In fact, sometimes I could swear he’d take us right to the brink of something deeper and then he’d pull back instead of pushing through the crumbling barriers I’d put up between us.

  Underneath it all, guilt gnawed over my lie to Gavin.

  It wasn’t like I’d never lied—he was my little brother—but this one felt bigger because I knew it meant I’d been lying to myself. I talked a big game; a blessing and a curse according to Dad. But the truth was that something about this town had gotten under my skin. Okay, not something. Someone.

  I stood in the beating hot sun and watched as Casey finished loading the beer and groceries into the back of the truck. We’d spent the last forty minutes navigating a packed grocery store—battling everyone else in town for last-minute July fourth supplies. All around us, even the parking lot was a madhouse of activity as other shoppers did the same.

  Inside the store, Casey had resorted to sweet-talking the woman behind the bakery counter into giving us the last apple pie she’d had stashed in the staff fridge. I could only watch and shake my head as his compliments and smiles had worked on the woman. I knew too well how it felt when he turned the volume up on his charm.

  In fact, it was getting harder and harder to resist.

  “All set.” Casey finished stashing the groceries and held open the passenger door for me.

  I climbed in and reached for him before he could shut it again. I grabbed a handful of his shirt and yanked him close.

  His expression changed from surprise to pleasure. “Well, hello,” he murmured, and his mouth met mine without complaint.

  My kiss was hungry and I knew it. Casey’s roaming hands must have too, the way they sought my hips and pulled me flush against him. Like air against a low flame, the heat sprang up and I pressed closer until my center hit his belt. Not altogether comfortable, but in the moment, I didn’t care the way the metal dug in.

  What was it I’d been working so hard to resist again?

  All I could think about lately was how much I wanted him—not slow, fast. And how I’d lied about it to everyone who mattered. Including myself. In the back of my mind, I considered the possibility of Casey actually winning this stupid bet we’d made with each other. When it was time to go home, could I really walk away? Leave all this behind?

  The kiss distracted me and I squirmed against him, breathless with the kiss and the fire burning underneath my skin.

  “Grocery store parking lot, huh?” Casey eased back, leaving a trail of tiny kisses over my face as he untangled his hands from my hair.

  “Yeah, well,” I began and then just stopped there, too winded and flustered to form a coherent sentence.

  Casey grinned, clearly enjoying my lack of vocabulary. “We’re getting classier and classier, slick.”

  “You’re right. Not the place,” I said.

  Casey paused halfway to closing the car door. “You looking for a place?” he asked.

  I licked my lips. “Maybe.”

  His gaze turned feverish in the summer heat. My mouth went dry as I imagined what he must be picturing right now.

  “We could go to my place,” he said, winking, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sure my roommate won’t mind. We’ll put a sock on the door or something.”

  “We have twenty minutes if we want to be on time to Summer’s party,” I reminded him.

  He shrugged. “That’s enough for me.”

  I swatted and scowled at his laughter, swinging my legs clear of the door and motioning for him to close it up.

  I checked my watch—too afraid to admit I was tempted by his offer of a quickie. But so far, nothing about being with Casey was quick. He was excruciatingly and mind-blowingly slow. I knew if we stopped at home, we’d never make it in time for the party. I refused to show up late and do that walk of shame.

  I’d have to get through the party and wait until we could go home. I sighed. It was going to be a long day.

  Summer’s driveway was already lined with trucks when we pulled up. Casey killed the engine and turned to me.

  “Two rules for surviving a July fourth party at the Staffords,” he said. “One, don’t wander into the cornfields drunk, and two, do not ask Frank to sing no matter how much he brags about his karaoke skills. Got it?”

  I muffled a laugh at how serious he seemed. “Got it,” I said, saluting and climbing out.

  We headed up the hill on the far side of the yard and were met with a crowd, already gathered and well on their way to saluting our country’s independence by exercising their freedom to get wasted.

  “Is it drunk in public if you’re on private property?” I asked Casey, watching in amusement as Joe swooped in and tossed Leslie over his shoulder. He ran in circles while they both laughed, all the while managing to hang on to his Solo cup.

  “No physically assaulting the women!” Casey yelled as we passed them.

  “Glad you draw the line somewhere,” I said.

  Casey turned to me, a gleam in his eye. “Of course. I always wait to be asked before assaulting any woman.”

  I laughed.

  “Jordan, come help me with this sign.” Summer waved me over to where she stood at the far end of the gathering with a sign that had an arrow and the word “bathroom” written on it with a Sharpie. She was angling it against the trunk of a tree so that the arrow pointed to a port-a-potty at the base of the hill. In her other hand, she held a staple gun.

  “Catch you later,” I said and began to turn away, but Casey grabbed my wrist and yanked me back, catching me off guard with a noisy kiss.

  Behind him, someone whistled and then a few cat calls joined in. I shoved him back, laughing, and sauntered away, not even caring for a second that I was loving everything about this country boy and his country Independence Day.

  Chapter Seven

  Casey

  In the center of our loose circle, the fire crackled. A spark flew out, sending embers sideways, and the flame rippled as it danced against the darkness. The night was winding into something quieter. Already, couples had paired off and disappeared. The ones that were left spoke in low voices to their neighbor while roasting marshmallows with only half-concentration on their handiwork.

  The hay bales I’d come by to set up earlier sagged underneath the weight of all we’d put them through. Wrestling matches, dances, drinking games, pranks—it had all gone down tonight around this fire.

  The beer was almost gone. According to Ford, the pie already was. I caught sight of him near the food table and watched as he nodded at Summer—the signal to leave.

  I wanted to go too but all I could do was watch her.

  Jordan was different tonight.

  For the past few weeks, I’d spent all day breaking down the walls she put up only to have them restored again each morning. But tonight, she was open. Laughing and dancing and playing games. Gone was the closed off New Englander who needed coaxing every time I wanted to hold her hand or put an arm around her.

  Tonight, every time I looked at her, she smiled. And more than once, when I’d sought her out among our gathering, I’d found her already watching me. Maybe it was the drinks? I wasn’t sure when it’d happened, but she’d let her guard down. And, for some reason, it scared the hell out of me even more. Pressure. I felt it now. The responsibility of holding someone’s heart in your hands—and feeling your balance wobble.

  This couldn’t last, not the way we’d set it up. We’d bet on our failure. All this was temporary and I knew it. Like a long breath held until you burst. Frank was right; I hadn’t been living before. But I was damn sure going to live tonight.

  I rose from the camping chair and tapped my empty beer can for effect. Ford looked up at me expectantly. “One more?” he asked.

  “Nah, think I’m headed home.” I yawned for effect and Ford laughed.

  “Tired, I’m sure,” he said.

  I looked up and caught Jordan watching me—again—from across the fire, her head dipped low near Leslie’s where they sat talking and roasting marshmallows. She smiled at me and something in my chest did a somersault. I bobbed my head toward home in a silent question and she nodded.

  “Yeah, tired,” I told Ford, who only snorted.

  Tired of waiting.

  We said our goodbyes and the moment we turned for home, I slipped my hand in hers. She was warm and more, welcoming.

  “What about the car?” she asked when we veered toward the woods.

  “Too many watermelon shots for that.” I glanced up at the sky through the treetops. “Besides, it’s almost a full moon. The perfect night for a walk.”

  “In the woods?” she asked and I heard her uncertainty, but it only made me enjoy the prospect more. The two of us alone together in my woods. Nothing sounded better right now. Except maybe the two of us alone between my sheets.

  “I’ve walked this way a thousand times,” I said. “There are no lions, tigers, or bears. Trust me.”

  She laughed. “I trust you.”

  I knew she’d meant the words lightly—and only about my ability to navigate us home. But they felt like more to me. Everything about this girl felt like more.

  “Thanks for tonight,” she said a moment later. “I had fun.”

  “Watching Frank play drunk Twister was definitely a highlight,” I agreed. She laughed and I sighed.

  “What is it?”

  “Oh, I was just thinking about how much I enjoy your laugh.” I squeezed her hand to keep it light. I didn’t want to point out how she hadn’t laughed much before now—or why. “You’ve got a great laugh, slick.”

  She squeezed back and the look she gave me was the same one she’d been sending me all night. Eyes twinkling with starlight. Secret, sexy smile. Inviting.

  I was so fucking lost in it.

  We made it as far as the trees between the farm and our place. As soon as we were out of sight of the others, I grabbed her and backed her up against the trunk of an old oak.

  “Casey—” she began but I shut her up with my mouth. Not that it was a refusal by the sound of it.

  My lips covered hers and instantly, the tension between us ignited. Jordan’s mouth was velvety and sharp against mine. I hadn’t known a combination like it existed but with Jordan, it made perfect sense. She was surrendering, that much I could feel as she leaned into me, open and inviting and already taking.

  Her hands—the same hands that had stopped me in my tracks often enough—were suddenly everywhere. In my hair, roaming over my shoulders, and winding around my neck.

  In the back of my mind, the words she’d said on her phone call with Gavin began to replay, but I shoved it away. Tonight wasn’t about the future. Tonight was about what we could be to each other right now.

  I deepened the kiss, flicking my tongue out to run along her lip, and almost lost it when she made a small noise of pleasure in the back of her throat. I held her face in my hands and then dropped them lower to her shoulders and then her hips, running my fingers over the edges of the fabric of her shirt, teasing it up until I could slip my hands underneath.

  When my fingers brushed her bare skin, she jumped, the bark of the tree at her back scraping against my knuckles.

  But still, she didn’t stop me. Instead, she only clung tighter. When she tugged on my shirt, I moved so she could slip her hands inside. Her fingernails dug into the sensitive skin at my hips and I shivered.

  I pressed my palm flat against the bare skin of her lower back. She was warm and soft—and it wasn’t enough. I wanted more.

  I explored her spine down to the small of her back and then roamed around to her ribs, up to her bra, dipping a hand inside the fabric to brush over an already hardened nipple. Jordan moaned into my mouth and I broke away, yanking her shirt up. I shoved her bra aside, running my tongue over the tip of one breast then the other.

  She squirmed against me and grabbed my face in her hands, guiding me back to her lips on a whimper. I let her lead for a moment, marveling at the way our mouths fit, the sweet taste of watermelon still on her tongue as it trailed over mine.

  Jordan’s leg lifted and I caught it and wrapped it around my waist, then did the same with the other, lifting her against me, one hand under her ass for support, the other still exploring.

  I felt her ankles lock and her thighs squeezed at my ribs as she clung tighter.

  Every part of her felt like warm silk.

  I needed to see it. To claim it as mine.

  “Let’s go home,” I murmured against her ear, trailing kisses from her neck back to her jawline.

  “Mmm.” Jordan turned, capturing my mouth once again with her own and a rush of desire had me shoving harder against her, pressing both of us into the rough trunk of the tree. Not that I minded, but even after Jordan’s progress with small towns and country guys, I wasn’t about to take her up against an oak tree a hundred yards from all my closest friends. I wasn’t a complete idiot.

  “Home,” I said again, for both of our benefit. I planted another kiss against her inviting mouth and then one more on her chin as she craned her head up in enjoyment. I did my best to ignore her exposed neck and the way she seemed completely abandoned to what we were doing and where we were doing it.

  This was not the Jordan I knew, but I definitely wanted to.

  I let go her of her and eased her feet back to the ground. She looked up at me, eyes wide, lips parted.

  “Take me home,” she whispered, her voice husky with desire and demand.

  And I knew whether Jordan chose us or not, I’d always be hers.

  Chapter Eight

  Jordan

  I smoothed my dress and did another half-spin in my bedroom mirror, eyeing myself critically. Outside my window, birds chirped—probably a desperate cry for water judging by the heat already working its way in between air cycles from the central unit already struggling to keep up.

  In the hall, footsteps approached and I looked up in time to see Casey appear in my open doorway. He wore clean blue jeans, boots, and a button down with yellow and purple stripes. The whole thing was off-set with his ruffled hair, still half-damp from the shower. Even from here, I could smell his cologne. Hot damn.

  Two weeks after our Independence Day encounter and I still felt fireworks every time I looked at him.

  A memory of last night flashed in my mind. Casey’s strong arms flexing as he hovered over me. The infinite depth in his eyes as he’d stared down at me, and the delicious heat between us as we’d made love. No one had ever made me feel so beautiful and fragile before. The way Casey made me feel—the constant wanting—was seeping in through the cracks in my walls and there was no stopping it anymore. Even when Casey wasn’t inside me … he was inside me.

  I licked my lips, catching a phantom taste of him, and Casey’s friendly expression changed immediately. Hooded eyes, wicked half-grin. He strode closer and my thighs literally ached at the sight of him.

  “Nice dress,” he said, his voice low. His hand found my hemline and very slowly, he eased the fabric up and ran his fingertips along my bare thigh. His touch left a trail of tingles in its wake. “I find it very … convenient,” he whispered and I leaned against him, inviting more and fisting my hand in his shirt to keep steady. He chuckled softly and eased back. “For later, I mean.”

  “You’re such a tease,” I said, mock-glaring at him and stepping out of reach, wondering if I should change my underwear or if there was any point. They’d probably just be wet again in an hour.

  “Hey, you watch your mouth, young lady.” Casey stalked closer. “I always make good on my promises. Not my problem you aren’t good at delayed gratification.”

  I scowled. “That’s because I don’t agree with this particular delay. Why did I ever agree to church anyway?”

  “Because it’s Founder’s Day and everyone goes to church on Founder’s Day. Even the ones who don’t go on Christmas and Easter,” he explained. “And because there will be free food after.”

  “That’s your reason, not mine,” I said.

  His mouth tightened slightly and something flashed quickly behind his gaze. “And because your family will be there and you can see them one last time and be done with them,” he pointed out.

  I sighed, knowing full well I was sulking—and I didn’t care. He was right. His idea had been brilliant, really. Seeing them in a public setting, at church no less, meant only small talk. No insults except those thinly veiled as passive-aggressive compliments. No more accusations against my dad or trying to repaint themselves the victim—or whatever Sharon had been trying to do at the end of our last visit.

  One more meet and greet. And then I could be done with them. Focus on Summer’s house. And Casey. I still had no idea what to do about Casey. About us. I could admit now that whatever it was we were doing, I wasn’t ready to let it go. But the end was approaching fast.

  He’d never move to Connecticut. I could never ask him to. Besides, I didn’t have a home to return to; I’d given up my apartment to come here. What would I do, move him in with my mother and me?

  I knew my other option. Stay in Grayson. But I shoved it away just like I did every other time the idea surfaced. I couldn’t build a thriving design firm in the middle of nowhere. And even if I could, I wouldn’t do it in Sharon’s backyard, that was for sure.