I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my jeans and waited.

  Frank rocked back on his heels and stared at me, clearly shocked. I couldn’t blame him. Nothing that had just come out of my mouth was “typical Casey.”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me … Shit, Case.” His shock transformed fast to irritation. “You should have told me.”

  I sighed. “I know. Sorry.”

  “Did you think I’d begrudge you this or—?”

  “No. I didn’t want to let you down or rock the boat or, I don’t know.” I threw up my hands. “I was scared, all right? The plan was for me to come back here and help you and Dean. You’re my family. I didn’t want to use up your money for school and then come back and leave you high and dry at the shop or the farm.”

  “That money was left by your parents and you know it.” Frank pointed a finger at me. “School fees ain’t got nothing to do with this. And it’s not about what I think—it’s about what you’re scared of in yourself. This thing is already a business, you say?”

  I nodded.

  “And it’s making you money?”

  “Some,” I said with a shrug.

  “And it’s what you want to do?”

  I nodded again, unsure what to even say. I’d seen the disappointment in his eyes earlier but now, his expression was lit with something else that made me just as nervous. It was the same gleam he always got when he was working one of his schemes. Like the day he’d moved Jordan in.

  “Good, then you’re fired.”

  “What the hell?” I demanded but Frank cut me off, shaking his head.

  “Effective immediately, you’re no longer employed at the shop in town or on this farm. You have any more bikes in that shed?”

  I struggled to find my voice. “A couple of beaters. Frames. Spare parts … You can’t just fire me.”

  “Can and did. You can leave all that in there for now.”

  “But Dean’s cleaning it out for his tiller,” I said.

  “I’ll handle Dean. If I were you, I’d think more about going downtown to see Harriet and incorporate yourself or whatever it is.”

  I groaned. “Frank, I can’t just quit and open up a business.”

  “Why not?”

  “Startups cost money. Overhead—”

  “I told you years ago. You have all that money left from your dad. A cushion plenty big to get going with this—”

  I put a hand up to stop him, irritated at how well he was taking all this. “Now, just slow down for a minute.”

  “Not happening, kid.” Frank shifted, planting his feet, but the gleam remained. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to come at me with something like this?” He went on before I could form an answer, “Granted I didn’t know it would be dirt bikes but I can’t say as I’m surprised either. Dammit, Case, I just want you to find something you love and go for it. I don’t care if it’s cars, tractors, or dirt bikes.” He grinned and added, “Or a girl—even if she is a Yank.”

  “I didn’t say anything about—”

  “I’ve waited a long time for you to take charge and make a life for yourself. And if a boot in the ass is what it takes to make you do it, I’m happy that boot can be mine. So, you’re fired. The question is what will you do next?”

  Frank’s brows rose in silent challenge. Once again, Jordan’s face flashed in my mind. Her brilliant smile framed by sun-kissed blonde hair—and a “give ’em hell” look in her blue eyes.

  What would I do next? I could practically hear her asking me the same question. It only took me a split second to know the answer.

  Chapter Ten

  Jordan

  The garage doors were flung wide when I pulled up at home. Sunlight slanted hard against growing shadows where the trees seemed to creep closer in the late afternoon sun. I parked Casey’s old pickup and climbed out, moving slow after what had been a long day.

  We’d tested the new water line today only to discover faulty piping over the future den. Water had leaked badly and we’d all rushed to try and save the new subfloor underneath it—without much luck. The knees in my jeans were still damp from the frantic crawling around I’d done.

  My shoulders ached as I rounded the truck, but I perked up at the sight of Casey hunched over on an upturned bucket in the garage.

  Stripped down to nothing but worn jeans; streaks of grease or dirt or whatever the hell it was on his shoulder and neck sparked dirty thoughts. I smiled to myself as he looked up.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey yourself, slick.” He eyed me up and down and raised a brow. “You lose a squirt gun fight?”

  “Close.” I sauntered over and planted myself in his lap, satisfied at the loud clank I heard when his wrench fell from his hand and clattered to the ground.

  He caught me, a firm grip on my waist, and I landed a quick kiss on his mouth. He tasted like sweat and summer and motor oil. It was the hottest combination yet. Briefly, I considered stripping us both down right here for a quickie before dinner.

  I chuckled as I realized a lot had changed in a few short weeks.

  “What are you thinking about?” Casey asked, nipping at my mouth again, eyes narrowed. “You look naughty.”

  I grinned.

  He held a finger up. “Before you distract me to the point of nakedness, I have news.” He nudged me until we were both on our feet.

  I took in his slight frown. “Is everything okay?”

  “I think so,” he said, but it sounded like a question and only made me more curious. “The thing is, I got fired.”

  “What?” I stared back at him, dumbfounded. Of all the things… “How can you get fired if you work for your family?”

  “Well, that’s tricky. I was bringing this one home,” he said, gesturing to the weathered dirt bike beside me. “And Frank came up and one thing led to another and…”

  My eyes widened. “You told him about your business idea? That’s great! What did he say?”

  Casey scratched behind his ear. “Like I said, I got fired.”

  I shook my head. “You’re not making any sense. Why would he—?”

  “Apparently you aren’t the only one who thinks I’ve been holding back too long on doing something with my life. Frank thinks he’s helping me by clearing my schedule.”

  I hesitated at the bite in his words. This was supposed to be a good thing, but I couldn’t tell if Casey was pissed or in shock.

  “Don’t be scared,” I said. He started to argue but I closed the distance between us and laid my finger over his lips. “You can do this, Casey. You’re smart and talented and creative and you are a master at building dirt bikes. You can do this. I believe it. Frank does too. The only one we’re waiting on is you.”

  “I can’t do it without you,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.

  I opened my mouth to argue, but the meaning behind his words sank in. I closed my mouth again, too eaten with guilt to response. Tears sprang to my eyes. “I’m right here,” I whispered.

  Pain flashed in his eyes at that, and I wanted to find some way to make it true. I hated seeing him hurting, especially for me. It was hurting me just as much.

  “Casey, I…”

  But words failed me as the tears became harder and harder to hold at bay.

  How could I tell him that his biggest victory felt like the exact failure I’d predicted? I couldn’t stay, not with my work here completed, and now, I couldn’t ask him to go either.

  “That’s great,” I finally managed. “Sounds like we’re both starting a new chapter.”

  “Both?” Casey’s brows wrinkled.

  “My grandparents. I fulfilled Dad’s wishes. I’ve seen them three times now, heard them out plenty. I can be done with it. And the house … they don’t need me here much longer,” I said. But instead of sounding like the good news I’d intended for it to be, it weighed me down.

  Casey stepped away, the closeness between us instantly turning cold and distant. My chest panged.

  He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Right, so new chapters. Both of us,” he repeated, the familiar ribbon of pain flashing behind his eyes.

  “Come with me,” I blurted and then clapped a hand over my own mouth in surprise.

  Casey’s head snapped up. “What?”

  “New England needs custom dirt bikes too,” I mumbled, but there was no hope in my words, just as there was none in Casey’s expression.

  He shook his head slowly.

  I stood there, feeling like an idiot.

  We both knew Casey would never leave Grayson. Finally, he made his way over and took my hand. “Jordan, meeting you was unexpected but it was also the best thing to ever happen to me. It made me fall in love with you and then me and then this place all over again. I can’t leave when it’s all just beginning for me here. I hope you can understand why.”

  I nodded, not willing to trust my voice.

  Outside the sun had dipped well beyond the tree tops. I looked up into Casey’s shadowed eyes, hating how familiar and comforting they were hovering right here over mine.

  A tear escaped, trailing fast down my cheek until Casey’s thumb swiped at it. “Don’t cry,” he whispered.

  “You said you love me.”

  “And that makes you cry?”

  I nodded, his thumb bobbing along with my chin where he still held my face.

  “Why?”

  “Because I love you too.” The words weren’t even scary. Maybe I’d been holding them in for so long, they felt used already instead of like the first time saying it.

  Casey stared down at me and I leaned up, content with showing him rather than attempting to talk about a lost cause anymore tonight. But Casey stopped me, so close that his lips brushed mine when he talked.

  “Stay,” he whispered. “Just stay.”

  My eyes went wide but his were hooded, almost closed, like he wasn’t even concerned about my answer. Or maybe he knew it was a lost cause too.

  I hesitated, the word “no” on the tip of my tongue. But it wouldn’t come.

  Could I? Stay? Become a small town girl? The girl my mother refused to let herself become? The girl I’d fought against by refusing to step foot in a place like this my whole life?

  For Casey, I wondered—

  A horn honked, jarring me, and I jumped back, yelping. “What the…?”

  I turned to find Sharon and John climbing out of their truck. My insides tightened at the sight of them here. What could possibly have made them come to me?

  Casey glanced at me once, his expression already changed to one of concern. “You want to wait inside?” he asked. “I can tell them to leave.”

  I shook my head.

  I’d stay. For just a little longer.

  Chapter Eleven

  Casey

  At the sight of the DeWalter pickup rolling into the yard, every muscle in Jordan’s body seemed to coil and tense. She insisted on staying even as both Sharon and John climbed out and headed our way. I tightened my grip on her waist, hating this for her already. She should have been done with them, with the careless way they’d treated her so far. But here they were, back again for more.

  And ruining my moment with Jordan in the process. For a split second, I wondered if she was going to say yes. But then they’d pulled up and I’d watched her expression morph into one of betrayal and enough pain that I knew she would never stick around for more of this.

  “Mr. and Mrs. DeWalter,” I greeted when they got close, being sure to infuse my voice with plenty false Southern charm. “This is an unexpected visit. What brings you out to Grayson this evening?”

  John cleared his throat, looking pointedly at Jordan. She didn’t meet his eyes so he turned to me. “Heard you were starting up officially. Custom dirt bike builds. I’d like to place an order.”

  “You heard?” I repeated, blinking in utter surprise. Who the hell would even know that already?

  John shrugged. “Small town. Good news travels fast.”

  “And bad news even faster,” I muttered. And then louder, because I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, “Well, you’ve come at a good time. Just finished one this afternoon.” I flicked a glance over at Sharon, who was staring intently at Jordan. “Would you both like to take a look?”

  I inched closer to Jordan and watched Sharon expectantly.

  “I’ll just wait here if you don’t mind,” Sharon said. “I’d like to have a word with Jordan.”

  “Sounds good,” I said and planted my feet. “Go ahead.”

  Sharon glanced between Jordan and me, clearly flustered.

  Jordan laid a hand on my arm. “It’s fine,” she said quietly. “I’ll be fine.”

  I opened my mouth to argue but then shut it again, feeling beaten and strangely angry about it. Of course Jordan was fine. She’d been fine without me her whole life, and she’d be fine again when she was gone. She didn’t need me.

  Wasn’t that what she’d been saying all along?

  Without another backward glance, I turned on my heel and strode off to the garage with John at my heels. If nothing else, maybe I could get a sale out of the whole thing.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jordan

  My knees trembled and then strained as I locked them stiffly. I folded my arms to keep from hinting at the nerves dancing in my belly and working their way into my shaking hands.

  If Sharon was here it was because she finally had something real to say. And for some reason I couldn’t name, that made me nervous.

  We waited until Casey and John had made it to the garage. Still, Sharon hesitated, and I wondered if I should invite her inside or offer her some tea. But no. Not this time.

  I tightened my folded arms and waited.

  “I know you only sought me out to honor your father’s request,” Sharon began stiffly. “I’ll be honest. It offended me that you didn’t come of your own free will, hurt my pride, really, and I … may not have handled myself properly.”

  I couldn’t help it; my mouth fell open. I closed it quickly and bit my tongue to keep from muttering anything that might ruin this apology—assuming that was really why she’d come.

  “At any rate, you’re here, in Grayson, and that’s what matters. Before you go, I owe you an explanation.” Sharon paused and I wondered if she was waiting for me to urge her on or tell her all was forgiven.

  “I’m listening,” I prompted.

  Sharon nodded once. “Twenty-five years ago, I was angry. For one thing, I always thought your father would settle here after high school, take over the dealership John owns in town.”

  “Dealership?” I echoed.

  “Cars. John owns the biggest Ford dealership on this side of the state,” Sharon explained. Her brows wrinkled and her head tilted. “You really didn’t know, did you?”

  I shook my head.

  “Well, that’s something,” she said almost to herself as her gaze flicked once to Casey. She looked back at me again. “Anyway, your father, back in high school he talked about leaving for college or to see the world, but so did everyone else at that age. So had I,” she added ruefully. “But no one ever did. The people in our town—in my family—stayed. It was tradition. So when your father came in talking about how he’d up and joined the Navy, that it was already a done deal and he only had a couple of months to go, I panicked. I tried to force him to stay, I threatened, I begged. I reminded him of the future we’d already laid out for him. His father’s dealership was set to become his…”

  Sharon glanced at John, who stood admiring Casey’s latest piece of custom handiwork. The bike was already sold to someone else but John was studying it closely.

  “Nothing moved your father. He was stubborn,” Sharon went on. “Then, they got pregnant with you, and I just knew I’d officially been forced out. They were leaving and there was nothing I could do to remain a part of their new lives.”

  Despite her obvious heartbreak, I was unmoved. “That’s not true. You could have visited, talked on the phone—”

  “I know. The truth was I was angry at myself. Their life looked a lot like mine had at that age—pregnant young, married young—except they saw possibilities where I hadn’t been brave enough to look. I was angry with myself for feeling stuck.”

  She glanced over to where John was now bent over examining another dirt bike, this one only half assembled and leaning precariously in the far corner.

  “You aren’t happy with your choices?” I asked and even though it was a question—the answer was clear.

  Sharon nodded, lips thinned in a resignation that felt like it’d been around longer than I had. “Not about John but about staying.” Her face fell and she picked at her manicure. “I didn’t want to admit I’d been wrong about my own life—or theirs.” Her chin came up and she added, “Pride runs deep in this family.”

  I snorted. No one could argue there. “John said he regretted how it went but he didn’t know how to apologize,” I said.

  Sharon nodded. “Part of it was the regret. Part was recognizing how much better off you all were.” She caught sight of my wrinkled brow and went on, “A few years after you left, Wayne came to live with us. He was a difficult child and became even more so as he got older. He’s been asking for his inheritance lately. Or a spot in the dealership’s management.”

  “And John said no,” I guessed.

  Sharon cleared her throat, clearly not wanting to get into it all. “It’s been difficult,” she said simply.

  “You thought I was here to ask for money too,” I said, softening to realize how much baggage and history had gone into her assumption. If Wayne as a child was anything like Wayne as an adult, it couldn’t have been easy.