Page 11 of The Inn Dilemma

Holt gives me a lopsided smile and pats the cushion between him and Chris. “Come sit. Like old times.”

Chris takes a swig of his tea and shakes his head, but I don’t miss the smile on his lips.

“If it’s really okay?”

“Of course it is,” Chris says.

I head over to them, plopping on the couch cushion between my brother and his best friend. This couch is one of the few comfortable pieces of furniture in this house. It’s where Chris and I have spent countless nights playing board games, watching movies, or just unwinding after a strenuous day of existing as a member of the Price family.

Before Rocky defeats Ivan Drago and shares his speech on overcoming impossible odds, Chris is sound asleep. His head lolls to the side. The credits are playing on the screen, leaving the room in blissful silence.

“What’s going on with you?” Holt asks me.

“Not much. Trying to survive my last two years of high school before maybe going to college.”

“Maybe college?” Holt asks.

I nod.

Holt narrows his eyes. “Why?”

I purse my lips to the side. “I don’t know. College isn’t for me. Chris is earning enough degrees for the both of us.” I try to laugh, but it dies on my lips with the look Holt is giving me.

“If you don’t want to go to college—and for the record, I don’t judge you if you don’t—what is it you want to do?”

The black screen of the credits dims the low lightseven further yet I can still see his gaze locked on me, intense, curious, sincere.

I bite my lip and turn my head, feeling shy in front of Holt Graves for the first time.

“I want to be a painter.”

I peek over and see his eyebrows shoot up. Most people who know me know I love to paint, though very few know it’s what I want to do with my life. Mom may work at an art gallery, but there’s a difference between running one and having your paintings sold from its walls.

Holt looks thoughtful before he says, “Aunt Birdie still has a bunch of your paintings.”

“Really?” I sit up in excitement.

Holt chuckles. “You have a lifetime fan in her.”

I can’t help but smile at that tidbit of information. Sure, Aunt Birdie may not be an art connoisseur, but she does have some of the most beautiful paintings hanging on the walls of the Storybook Inn. Paintings that have been passed down generations.

“What else is going on with you?” Holt asks as if he can see right through me. As if he somehow knows the unspoken fear lingering inside my heart.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Holt sinks deeper into the couch. “I overheard your dad talking to you about that Justin kid. You seemed less than enthused to meet him. Yet when you were over there, you wore a fake smile and pretended to act interested.”

“Wow, I’m flattered that you seem so invested in my life.”

Holt’s Adam apple bobs. “I may be away fromRocosa most of the time, but I’ll always care about my favorite Price siblings and want what’s best for them.”

“I appreciate that but can’t say the same for my parents. Dad wants what’s best for him and Mom wants what makes her look best. I don’t have a chance to forge my own path. Not unless I run away.” I give an awkward laugh.

Holt scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, I think it’s safe to say the same for Chris.”

“It’s weird, but I feel worse for him than I do myself. At least I can sneak around with whatever boys I want. Chris never had that luxury. Dad always had his girlfriends picked out based on what would be best for the company, and since Chris will be the one taking over as CEO, I know he wants to do what keeps Dad happy.” I roll my eyes.

“Boyfriends?” Holt leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “As in plural?”

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