A Bet Worth Making (Grayson County #2) by Heather Hildenbrand Page B

start my own firm. Mom had immediately offered my old room, but I’d turned her down, not wanting all the reminders of him. Now I was rethinking that option. At least she had a car that worked.
    Besides, I didn’t need all these complications. I could put my plans for my own firm on hold for now and just concentrate on one foot in front of the other. One sensible, reliably-transported foot—
    “You going somewhere?”
    I jumped and coffee sloshed along the edges of my mug.
    Casey stood in the kitchen doorway looking way too at ease in his low-slung jeans and ratty T-shirt. I bit back a smile when I spotted the giant hole in the fabric. “You’re breaking rule number one,” I said.
    Casey looked down at his clothes and then back up to me. “No way, shirt, pants, socks even. I’m covered.”
    My lips twitched. “I can see your entire left rib cage.”
    He smirked. “Not my fault that you’re looking.”
    I pretended not to hear him. Or notice his cocky smile. Or the way his eyes just begged me to give in to his shameless flirting and banter right back again. Were all country boys this transparent? Or hot? I wasn’t much for teasing or flirting but Casey made it so easy …
    Instead, I took a long sip of the coffee. I’d had worse. “I was going somewhere. Now I’m not.”
    “Wow, the shirt worked better than I thought.” Casey’s brows lifted suggestively, and my belly jumped.
    “Not even close. No wheels. And bad timing too. I’m supposed to meet Summer about that job.”
    Casey hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Heritage Plantation is just through the trees in the back.”
    “I’m meeting her at the site. Up on the hill,” I said, using his same vague description from last night.
    “Right. Well.” He flicked something shiny and metal into the air. I barely managed to snag it and cup it in my palm. Keys. “You can take the truck. But if you crash it, you owe me fifty thousand dollars.”
    “Fifty thousand?” My eyes bulged. The coffee in my mug threatened to spill over. “But it’s not worth that much.”
    “Maybe to you. She means the world to me.”
    “I don’t have fifty thousand,” I argued.
    He shrugged. “Fifty grand or a date. Your choice. Drive careful.” He turned and sauntered down the hall.
    It wasn’t worth the time or oxygen to argue. I took the keys.
     
    ***
     
    Casey’s truck motored up the hill with quiet diligence. It wasn’t going to win any speed races, but it ran. More than I could say for my Nissan across town. I was grateful for the gesture on his part, not that I would admit that to him. I had a feeling a simple “thank you” to a guy like Casey was the same as an invitation.
    Maybe I could wash the truck in exchange. Something that showed my gratitude without having to actually utter the words.
    A date, he’d said…
    Not happening. No matter how yummy that strip of exposed flesh had looked underneath the sad fabric of that ratty shirt. I wondered if it’d already been ripped or if he’d done it on purpose just to egg me on. Either way, it’d worked. I couldn’t stop thinking about the tanned planes of his smooth abs. And to make matters worse, the cab of his truck smelled like him. Engine grease and gasoline and underneath it all an earthy musk that was hard to expel once it invaded the senses. It was sexy in a rough-and-tumble kind of way. I never would’ve expected it to attract me in the first place.
    I tended to go for clean-cut guys. Bookish, smart, ambitious. White collar stuff. Anything that remotely resembled down-home, farm-types were off the radar faster than a stealth plane. It was too risky. Too close to home. I owed it to my parents, to myself, to end up with someone better. To be someone better.
    When I was a kid, Mom had always insisted growing up in a small town hadn’t held her back. “I’d met your father,” she’d pointed out. “And he’s a country boy. What’s not to love?” She’d laugh then and I’d laugh with her, but