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

particular?”
    “I studied city planning and interned at a firm that did urban design, but I really love restoration and classic design. In fact, I’m working on starting my own place that specializes,” I said. And because I knew he’d find out anyway, I added, “I’m here to consult for Summer Stafford’s new build. We have our first meeting tomorrow.”
    “No shit? Wow,” Casey said. “Summer’s been a broken record about this project for months. Glad she’s finally getting started.”
    I smiled at the thought of how excited Summer had been earlier when she’d realized who I was. Practically promised me the job. I had to admit there was a certain level of self-satisfaction, not to mention relief, in that. “It sounds like a fun project.”
    “It’ll get Ford out of that camper anyway.”
    “Ford, right,” I said, remembering him from town earlier. God, that felt like a lifetime ago. “I met him today in town. You mean he lives in a camper right now?”
    “He used to room here, but Dean offered his old camper a while back and Ford towed it up the hill and parked it beside his future home site. I think, despite the lack of amenities it provides, he and Summer wanted their own space.”
    “And they’re engaged, right?” I asked, remembering the emails we’d exchanged and the details.
    “Wedding’s this September. Hopefully just in time to see your handiwork,” he said, pointing a soapy hand at me.
    “No pressure,” I joked.
    “I have a feeling you’re a girl who thrives under pressure,” Casey said.
    I didn’t answer.
    I wasn’t sure if he was flirting again or if he’d just insulted me. Just in case it was the latter, I didn’t want to mess things up. Not when we’d just found some solid footing.
    “Did you go to college?” I asked.
    “I did two years in Philly at Mechanics Institute of America,” he explained.
    “That’s right, you and Frank have that shop in town,” I said, thinking again of my deceased car.
    “That’s all Frank,” he said and there was a trace of something—resentment?—before it passed. “I help out when he needs me, when I’m not down at Dean’s beating on that damned tractor.”
    “I see.” I wanted to ask him why he did all of that when it didn’t sound like he enjoyed it very much, but I wasn’t about to pry right now.
    Casey went back to washing and I went back to pretending not to notice his broad, bare shoulders and the muscles that bunched and rippled along his forearms when he lifted a dish, dripping wet, and set it aside for another.
    When had doing the dishes become foreplay?
    Casey startled me by suddenly turning away from the sink and opening the fridge. He snagged a fresh beer and walked up to me, holding it out like some sort of peace offering. I took it but he didn’t move.
    “Look, I’m not disagreeing with you about small-town thinking. Thing is, that sort of closed-minded mentality can exist anywhere. In my mind, limiting it to residents of places like Grayson is pretty closed-minded in itself. And I don’t think you are. So, something must’ve happened.”
    I opened my mouth to argue, to tell him it wasn’t his business, to … something, but he plowed ahead.
    “Whatever it was, it’s none of my business, so let’s just leave it at friendly for now. I’m not asking for more although anything less would make the whole roommate thing pretty awkward. What do you say?” He dropped his eyes to my mouth for an instant and then met my gaze. “Can we agree to be friends?”
    “I haven’t agreed to the room yet,” I pointed out, my mouth suddenly dry. My heart pounded at his closeness and I forced my eyes not to roam the smooth expanse of his tanned chest and broad shoulders right in front of me.
    Slowly, he reached for my beer, cracked it, and took a long swig. I stared—I tried not to, I really did—at the dark circles of his nipples, at the way his pecs stretched when he raised the can to his lips and lowered it