Page 2 of Love Me Boldly

“Exactly.” Tracey flashed me a manic grin, grabbed my hand, and tugged me toward the door of my trailer.

I didn’t bother locking it as we tumbled down the rickety stairs to the BMW SUV her parents bought her for her twenty-first birthday. There was nothing inside worth stealing.

The most valuable thing I now owned was that ridiculous vision board. And that included the cost of supplies.

* * *

“See?”Tracey shouted in my ear with a glass of foamy beer held high above her head. “Fun, right!?”

I tipped my club soda in her direction. “Loads.”

She rolled her eyes at me and grabbed my free hand. Dragging me along behind her, I had to hurry so I didn’t end up face-planting onto the sticky, beer-stained floor.

When Tracey said we were heading out to the bars, I thought she was taking me back to Boone, thirty minutes away where we went to college, but nope. She meant staying close to home. Deer Creek wasn’t any place special. A small mountain town in northern North Carolina, my paw-paw, Dad’s dad, used to say that from the top of Crystal Mountain, we were close enough to the border to spit into Tennessee. Based on the way the man spit his chew, I figured maybehecould do it, but I’d never attempted it.

The Golden Eye was the same as it’d always been. Considering it hadn’t been updated in my twenty-two years of life, it was surprisingly clean, minus the sticky floors. A long brass handle that rimmed the bar shone like it’d been recently polished. The brass coverings on the lights hanging from the ceiling were in equally good condition. Pretty sure the only thing that’d been added to Golden’s was the number of bras tacked to the walls. Why women got drunk and flung their bras around only to have them stapled to a grungy wall was something I never understood, and my dad had been dragging me in there to do my homework since I was old enough to carry my own backpack into it.

Didn’t women know how expensive those things were?

Or maybe tourists didn’t care. Maybe those women had more money than my family.

Not a stretch, considering.

“This really isn’t a good idea,” I called out to Tracey as she weaved around tables. I tried to avoid eye contact with every familiar face, but it was difficult. Several who met my gaze before I could look away sneered.

Tracey didn’t understand, and I was loath to ruin her good mood even at the risk of my own. One night. I could do this for one night. In a week, she’d be back in her apartment, and I’d be spending the weekend working and studying in my drafty trailer.

“It’ll be fine. I swear it! Besides, I ran into some hotties while you were getting our drinks!”

She grinned at me over her shoulder, hazel eyes lit with the promise of a good time.

I’d walk through fire for Tracey, I trusted her beyond reason. She was truly the smartest person I knew, but in this she was wrong. Me? Have a good time at a bar in Deer Creek? Never gonna happen.

She’d have a good time though, especially if guys were involved. She had brains, an incredible body, and a fantastic sense of humor. A triple threat, my best friend was, and men flocked to her like bees to nectar after a starving winter.

She dragged me to the back. At least we were in the corner. Opposite the hall to the bathrooms and far from the thickest crowd near the bar, if I hid by the dartboard all night, I’d probably be okay.

“Holly, this is Tucker and Graham. Our new friends.”

I fought the roll of my eyes. Tracey made new friends everywhere, and those friends usually stuck around until the tab was paid.

I held up my club soda and grenadine instead of a handshake. “Hi there.”

Tracey sure knew how to pick them. Both dark-haired, both a full head taller than me at my five-five stature, they had to hover right around six feet. One had fuller lips and thick brows. The other was…well,wow.

A mop of thick dark hair had a curl to it on the top of his head, slightly falling to the sides that tapered to practically nothing at the base of his neck. His dark eyes were pools of mystery as his gaze lingered on me.

“Graham,” the man said, barely moving his lips as he spoke his name.

I felt that name in hidden places. It was a caress against my skin, and I fought the urge to shake off prickles that were slipping down my spine.

Oh…yeah. He was a hottie all right. Based on the cut of his shirt, he worked outoftento become such a hottie based on the build, but it was also the clothes. The fabric. He was wearing a fitted gray Henley and light denim jeans that fell loosely over scuffed and worn black Doc Martens.

He wasn’t from here.

And he had money.

So…great. He wasn’t for me. I wasn’t like Tracey. Her grandma’s advice was entertaining, but there was no point in hoping some guy would come in and sweep me off my feet straight out of my trailer.

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