A Bet Worth Making (Grayson County #2) by Heather Hildenbrand Read Free Book Online

drank your last beer earlier, remember?”
    I shook my head and sent her a smile. Without saying a word, I veered toward the truck and plucked out the case I’d bought the previous night and hadn’t brought inside.
    I sent her a wink, putting an extra drawl into my words. “Darlin’, a real redneck always has backup brew. Come on, I’ll even let you watch me do the dishes.”
    She laughed—a low, sensual sound that came from deep in her throat. Even this girl’s laugh was sexy as hell and the way she brushed against me as her shoulders shook lightly ... I knew then I wasn’t just in trouble, I’d met it face to face and invited it inside.
     
     
     

Chapter Five
    Jordan
     
     
    It should be illegal for hot guys to do the dishes. Especially when said guy was ripped and shirtless—he’d claimed it was to keep the water from splashing on his clothes—and currently number one on my list of irritating people. Casey might’ve had a point outside: I needed the room more than he knew. But after waiting around all afternoon, being right only made him more annoying. Or maybe it was the fact that he was sexy to the point of distraction. I couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything when his biceps flexed like that. And I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen such a fine specimen. Or cared.
    “See something you like, slick?”
    Heat crept up my neck as I realized I’d been caught in the act. I put a little more punch into my scowl than necessary. Crossed my arms a little tighter and leaned against the pantry door. “Slick?’” I repeated.
    Casey shrugged, feigning disinterest, but I could see that he’d enjoyed finding me checking him out. “You’re a city girl, aren’t you?”
    “Did Frank tell you that?”
    “Didn’t have to,” Casey said, turning his attention to a casserole dish with a layer of mystery-brown coating the bottom.
    I grimaced as he submerged it in the soapy water that filled the sink and began scrubbing away. My gaze dropped lower and caught on the way his jeans hugged his hips just so.
    “It’s written all over you like a neon sign at happy hour.” He gave a lopsided grin at his own joke.
    I snorted—probably not a very “city girl” response. “You would use a small-town reference as a metaphor,” I said, rolling my eyes.
    “What is that supposed to mean?” He glanced my way, but I didn’t answer.
    He let go of the casserole dish and turned to face me with narrowed eyes. “You have something against small towns?”
    I snatched my open beer from the windowsill beside me. The snark poured out before I could stop it. “Not at all. Without small towns, country music lyrics wouldn’t survive which are, I’m sure, of value to someone somewhere. And I like buying farm-raised poultry, so there’s that.” I tapped my chin, as if I couldn’t come up with another single feature to add.
    Casey’s expression took on a sharp edge. There was a flash of something I didn’t expect or recognize before he abruptly went back to the caked casserole dish. “Don’t forget the most important one,” he said, intent on his scrubbing. “Without small towns, you’d have no one left to ridicule in your spare time.”
    “I wasn’t…” I scowled. “Okay, maybe I was. A little.”
    “And by ‘a little’ you mean you’ve got a bone to pick with towns that sport dirt roads and sweet iced tea consumed on porches. What’s the big deal? A redneck spit in your kool-aid or something?”
    “No one spit in my kool-aid,” I mumbled, staring down at the beer bottle I held loosely in front of me.
    I made the mistake of letting my mind wander too far, to all the reasons I had for disliking towns like Grayson. And for never wanting to come back but feeling like I had no choice.
    Dad’s last wish—his dying words—had been to ask me to come here. To meet the mother who had disowned him simply for wanting to move to a city that could provide a better life for his family. He wanted me to hear