Besides, it wasn’t like Casey asked. Things were good between us, but they were light. Like we still hadn’t fully opened ourselves up. And wasn’t that my exact intention for this whole thing?

  “Fine, let’s get it done,” I said, grabbing my purse and following him out. I almost missed the hurt that passed over his face before he hid it again. I hung back, trying to decipher it, but came up empty. Things had been perfect the past couple of weeks. Since the fourth, I’d barely even slept in my own bed.

  You’re imagining things, Jordan. Stop looking for problems where there aren’t any. I got into the truck and slammed the door, more than ready to take my own advice.

  The church sat on a corner lot on the far end of downtown. I’d passed it the day I’d arrived, just before my old Nissan had bit the dust. I sent my car good vibes as we passed by Frank’s shop, knowing it wouldn’t do a bit of good. Frank had already told me there was no reviving that thing. Not for less than buying a new car outright.

  Up ahead, traffic slowed as everyone fell into a line waiting to park in the gravel lot. Dean Stafford waved at us from where he stood directing traffic. I waved back as we slid into a space.

  “Wow, you weren’t kidding. Church today must be serious business,” I said as we got out and joined the stream headed inside.

  Casey called out greetings to several people as we walked, never letting go of my hand as he smiled and waved and said hello to faces I couldn’t keep straight.

  “What is it?” Casey asked, slowing our pace so we fell back out of earshot of anyone else.

  “I was wondering what it would have been like growing up in a town where everyone knows your name and your life story.”

  “Comforting … and annoying at the same time,” he said finally. “But I’m sure you have a group of friends back home that know you the same way.”

  I bit my lip, trying to picture it for me and Gavin. Everyone had known his name. “Not me. My brother was always the popular one,” I said, shaking my head.

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “You see me differently than everyone else does, I think.”

  He cocked his head. “And how does everyone else see you?”

  “Bookish. Quiet.” I shrugged. “I was never one to go out much. I didn’t have a ton of boyfriends.”

  “Better not,” Casey muttered and I rolled my eyes.

  “I’m serious. I wasn’t very outgoing. I was too caught up in architecture and my plans for the future. Dad and I were always visiting buildings or houses, studying the design, discussing how we would have done it.” I looked up at the stained glass window we stood underneath. “We definitely didn’t make it to church much.”

  “Well, you’re here now,” Casey said and I was grateful he didn’t ask any more about my dad.

  A familiar face caught my eye over his shoulder and I tensed. “They’re here,” I whispered.

  Casey turned just as my grandparents disappeared inside the church doors. Wayne followed right behind them with Jenny tucked close.

  Beside me, Casey tensed. “Show time,” Casey said, glaring at the spot even after Wayne disappeared inside. Slowly, he turned back and took my hand.

  I expected him to lead me inside but instead, he raised my hand to his lips, kissed it, and lowered it again, cupping it gently in both of his. “Even if you don’t believe in God, believe in yourself,” he said.

  “I believe in God, Case,” I assured him and we turned for the church as I added, “I just don’t believe He’s in there.”

  We found Summer and Ford already seated inside along with Frank and Dean. Casey slid in beside Ford and I took the end seat. Summer leaned forward and smiled at me from across both of the guys and I smiled back. Dean and Frank both waved from the far end of the pew.

  It felt weird—in a good way—to have such a large group friends that were clearly more of a family. Even to me, I realized now. They’d welcomed me so completely. Not just as a business professional for a project. But as a true member of their family, no strings, no explanations.

  The service was better than I expected. The choir sang classics I recognized. Offering plates were passed discreetly. Women wore such a variety of hats, it kept me entertained even during the sermon when the cool air and Casey’s hand in mine threatened to lull me.

  My attention wandered during the mayor’s re-dedication; something about Grayson being a landmark after one hundred and fourteen years since its first settlement.

  Three rows back, a toddler gave a sudden, mostly unintelligible outburst, and I twisted toward the sound. But before I could spot the kid, I found my grandparents, sour and solemn, completely wrapped up in the mayor’s talk. Beside them, Wayne stared back at me, eyes burning with a wrath that jarred me in such a peaceful setting. I looked away and straightened in my seat.

  “Everything okay?” Casey whispered.

  I nodded, but for the rest of the service, I didn’t move. And I swore I could feel Wayne’s furious stare as it bored into the back of my head.

  Outside, after the service, we followed the stream of people to the back of the church. A large grassy area had been set up with covered awnings and tables underneath. One side held three rows of buffet tables. Wooden picnic tables were lined up on the opposite end, filling fast as families claimed their spots. I watched as kids broke away from their parents and sprinted for the playground.

  “You like kids?” I asked and then realized too late what I was implying.

  My cheeks heated, but Casey answered easily. “Sure. Cheapest manual labor you can buy.”

  I laughed and shoved at his shoulder. “I’m serious.”

  “Me too.” Still smiling, he added, “I love kids. Summer and Ford are already displaying signs of baby fever so I have a feeling I’ll get my fill here soon. But someday…” His forehead wrinkled then cleared again as if he’d thought of something disappointing or uncomfortable—just like the strange reaction he’d had earlier.

  I started to ask but then thought better of it.

  A haughty voice broke in. “Well, Jordan, it’s an unexpected surprise to see you here.”

  Sharon’s bored expression warred with her tight smile.

  “Hello,” I said, wary at the sight of Wayne looming behind her.

  “Your dress is lovely,” Sharon said and it took me a moment to realize she’d actually complimented me.

  I smoothed my skirt self-consciously. “Thanks,” I said, glancing from her to Wayne and then back to her again. “It was a graduation gift last year from my mother.”

  Sharon’s expression tightened at that and I fought to keep control of my temper.

  Casey’s hand settled over my shoulders, and he squeezed my arm. “She does look beautiful, doesn’t she?” He beamed down at me and I could only shake my head at his overly cheerful tone.

  Wayne snorted. “You always were a player,” he muttered.

  Casey glared. “You always were a piece of—”

  “Hello, folks,” Helen broke in, joining us easily as if we were all old friends standing around. She smiled and winked at me from underneath the wide brim of a woven white hat. It was adorned with pink roses and so much greenery I wondered at how she held her head upright. “Beautiful Sunday for a picnic, isn’t it?”

  A man I recognized from the bar that night Casey had punched Wayne stood by, holding Helen’s hand in the crook of his elbow. He dipped his head at me.

  “Bobby,” he said. “We met briefly the night of—” He broke off and cast an uncertain look at Wayne.

  “Nice to see you again,” I said to them both.

  “Likewise.” Sharon straightened. “Well, it’s been lovely.” She strode off before I could answer which was just as well. She wouldn’t have liked when I told her she wouldn’t see me again if I could help it.

  “Sorry. Ahem.” John moved to follow her, tipping his hat, and adding, “Don’t be a stranger,” before hurrying off to join Sharon.

  I debated going after her, telling her this was it, she wouldn’t see me again, I’d given it a worthy effort. But in the end, I let them go. My anger was harder to hold onto these days. Mostly, I’d realized life was too short to carry all that bitterness. As I watched her go, the hard edges of my fury evaporated—right along with my need to hear any more of whatever it was she would have said to me. Nothing would change the past, but I was determined to stop letting them disturb my present.

  When I turned back, Wayne remained. Feet planted. Arms crossed.

  He and Casey stared each other down.

  Helen shifted, clearly uncomfortable with the tension. From near the buffet table, a few of the other members of the congregation were starting to stare.

  “Wayne,” someone called in a soft voice.

  He didn’t turn. Casey did. I followed his gaze and found Jenny waving at him from where she sat with Sharon and John. I marveled at how she managed to survive sitting in Sharon’s presence without freezing to death. In fact, she seemed right at home with them. I turned back to Wayne.

  “Your girlfriend’s calling,” I said, fed up with his little stand-off.

  Wayne ignored me and stepped closer to Casey. “Don’t think you got away with that sucker punch the other night,” he said.

  Casey’s arm dropped away from my shoulder and hung loose at his sides.

  “Now, now,” Bobby began, but Casey waved him off.

  “If anyone got off easy here it’s you,” Casey said and his tone was surprisingly light. I tensed, waiting for his temper. For the balled fists and strained fury from the first time they’d faced off. But Casey was cool as a cucumber. “Your girl is one in a million and you treat her like dirt. If that’s how she’s taking it, fine. But you won’t treat mine the same way,” Casey said, his voice low and controlled and deceivingly calm.

  “Your girl,” Wayne repeated in slimy sarcasm, “is a gold-digging tramp just like her momma.”

  Casey hissed in a breath through his teeth but he never got out a reply. I stepped between them, no longer concerned with how Casey was going to respond. Wayne would be lucky to walk away in one piece—and this was all on me.

  “You say one more thing about my mother,” I began.

  I inched closer, sticking my finger in his chest as I went on, lit with rage. My voice was silky sweet and murderously low. “One more. And I promise you, not a single working part will still be attached to your body, but the upside is you won’t have to explain to a single person in this county or the next how you came to be dismembered by a gold-digging tramp, since they’re all here to watch it firsthand.”

  Casey snorted.

  Helen and Bobby didn’t make a sound.

  Wayne looked up, apparently noticing the crowd for the first time. Some part of me felt bad for talking this way in a church yard, but the rest of me, the parts I knew would let me sleep tonight despite my words, damn sure intended to make good on my threat if Wayne called my bluff.

  Wayne scanned the curious faces now watching our exchange with open interest. All other conversation fell silent. Slowly, he turned back to me, rage and regret mixing in his tight expression. “God will judge the guilty,” he said through clenched teeth.

  Then he spun on his heel and stalked away.

  I stared after him, wondering how the hell he could possibly condone bringing God into the mix. Casey’s hand tugged at my elbow until I reluctantly turned away from my retreating cousin.

  “Damn—I mean dang,” he said hastily, glancing at Helen and Bobby. “I thought you were going to deck him.” His voice held a note of awe.

  “So did I,” Bobby murmured.

  Laughter bubbled up and escaped, releasing my adrenaline and what was left of my temper. I threw my head back and laughed, enjoying the relief it brought.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “I was definitely going to deck him,” I said. “I wonder how the church would have felt about that one.”

  “I don’t know how church feels but I am inclined to kiss the sh—mess out of you right now.” He took my face in his hands and kissed the tip of my nose lightly.

  Helen laughed. “Come on, Bobby. We better find a seat and leave them alone while they get right with the Lord.”

  I laughed at that but Casey’s expression was mock solemnity. “What? You don’t think kissing is spiritual?”

  I shook my head and let him silence me with his mouth. A few people behind us whistled. Something full rose in my chest, and I had to work to get a deep breath around the pressure it left behind. My eyes filled with tears that had nothing to do with Wayne or any of the awful things he’d said.

  “What’s that look for?” Casey asked, gaze searching mine in the summer sunlight.

  “For you,” I told him, reaching onto my toes to kiss him again. “It’s only for you.”

  And I intended to mean it for long after summer ended. Maybe, like with my own parents, love would find a way.

  Chapter Nine

  Casey

  Metal clanked against metal as I tossed another bolt onto the pile forming. I stepped back to survey my progress—and wipe my forehead with the rag hanging off the disassembled dirt bike handlebars.

  This damned shed did not ventilate well.

  I took another swig of water—the last of it I’d brought with me out here—and got back to work, knowing I didn’t have much time left before Frank and Dean would begin to wonder where I’d snuck off to. I could have chosen a better day than Monday, our busiest of the week, but I couldn’t afford to waste the opportunity. Goose was sitting parked outside the barn at Heritage Plantation and while she ran fine today, it was a well-known fact where that tractor went, I wasn’t usually far behind.

  I heard a noise outside the shed and whirled—but a quick glance out the grimy window of the small shed revealed a squirrel tearing across the space between trees. It darted up the trunk of the closest Spruce and disappeared into its boughs.

  I went back to work tightening what was needed and discarding anything that wasn’t. If Summer was right, I didn’t have long before Dean would come clean this place out. Admitting my secret hobby to Dean wasn’t something I was ready to do yet.

  Fucking A it was hot in here.

  I glanced toward the door longingly, but I didn’t dare open it and alert anyone close enough to see it.

  With effort and more than a little sweat, I managed to reattach the handlebars to the steering stem. The tires were flat but they were attached, at least. When I’d tightened everything enough, I grunted and heaved and finally managed to roll the bike free of the half-carcasses of the other bikes and random parts still covering the wood floor.

  With both hands on the grips, I pushed at the door with the toe of my boot until it wedged free. The moment the door swung open behind me, I felt the whoosh of fresh air. Still hot, still sticky and humid, but it was refreshing compared to the stale air inside. I leaned into my steps, rolling the bike with me as I went, and managed to load it into the trailer I’d hooked up to the four-wheeler I’d brought with me out here after my lunch break.

  I’d been waiting for an opportunity like this for days. Today had been the first chance I’d gotten with all the others out doing something else.

  I loaded and secured the bike with ratchet straps and then doubled back to the shed. After a quick once-over, I locked the doors and pocketed the tiny key. At this rate, it was going to take me weeks—or I’d have to start playing hooky more often if I wanted to clean it all out in time.

  “You buy something new?”

  My head whipped up and I stopped short. Damn. Busted.

  “Hey, Frank,” I said warily, forcing my shoulders to relax.

  My anxiety was ridiculous. It’s not like he still held power over my decisions. Then why in the hell did I feel like I’d just gotten caught sneaking out after curfew?

  “Is that new?” Frank pointed to the peeling yellow fender of the dirt bike I’d just loaded. “I don’t remember it.”

  “Yeah, I … new,” I said, my words coming out disjointed like my thoughts.

  Frank zeroed in like a fucking hawk. “Did you plan to use Dean’s shed for it?” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward the house. “There’s plenty more room down at the barns.”

  “Nah. Trying to clean out all my junk and get it moved back to my own space,” I said.

  Frank shot a look at the dirt bike loaded up and his brow rose. “Doesn’t look like junk to me.”

  “Selling this one,” I said like it was no big deal.

  Frank grunted and then tapped a finger against the metal. “Is that a custom exhaust?”

  I shrugged.

  “And the airbox—that’s not something I’ve seen,” he said, bending low to squint closer at the bike.

  “Yeah, I tinkered with it…”

  Frank straightened, understanding dawning. “You made this? Yourself? To sell?” His brows scrunched tighter and I could practically see the wheels turning.

  Dammit. And here it was. After all this time of keeping it a secret. Omitting and outright lying were not the same in my book (regardless of what Jordan said) and I wasn’t sure why, but I realized I didn’t want to do either anymore.

  “Casey?” Frank stepped closer, concern drawing his brows into a single crooked line. Lines appeared over his weathered cheeks and forehead. “What’s going on?”

  “The thing is, it’s new because … I built it,” I said.

  “Wow, I had no idea you could do that.” Frank looked over at the bike again, closer than before, as if seeing it for the first time.

  I scratched the back of my neck, wishing I’d taken some time to figure out how to spill all this. But all I could picture was Jordan. And what she would say if she were here. Direct—that girl never beat around the bush.

  I took a deep breath. “I’ve built lots of them, actually.”

  Frank straightened. “Building dirt bikes is a hobby then? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Not a hobby. A business,” I said, wincing at how strangely legit it sounded to call it that. But it was true. I’d earned too much to call it a hobby any longer. “I took a motorcycle mechanics course when I was in Philly.” I hesitated and then blurted it all, “They offered it on scholarship and I spent a year doing nights to complete it all at once. Graduated top of my class actually. I’ve been fiddling with custom built dirt bikes ever since.”