Page 6 of The Inn Dilemma (Give a Bookish Girl a Biker)

Holt swoops in from out of nowhere. “Let’s go for a little walk.” Holt’s tone leaves no room for argument as he throws an arm around Justin’s shoulder. Without a fight, the creep nods his agreement.

The moment Justin is out of sight, I release the breath I had been holding. Chris and I step off the dance floor, and he places his hands gently on my shoulders.

Looking down at me with an expression full of concern, he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I mutter .

“What was he saying to you?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard from a dozen other guys.”

By his expression, Chris gets it. Dad has been setting him up with women whose parents will benefit the business since he could drive. I have to assume Chris is as repulsed by it as I am. But just like everything else, we need to prioritize the business and keep Dad happy.

“You’re more than their comments. You know that, right?”

I nod.

Chris cracks his knuckles and stretches his neck from side to side. “And I’m always here if you need me to beat the guy up.”

I give him as real a smile as I can muster, only partially believing him.

After Mom and Dad are sleeping soundly in their separate rooms, I wander into the living room, where I find Chris and Holt drinking my sweet tea out of mugs and watching a Rocky movie.

I hover in the doorway, trying to decide between retreating to my room and diving into one of my books or asking if I can stay and watch Sylvester Stallone at the peak of his career.

Holt notices me first.

“Hey, Nova. Want to come finish the movie with us?” he asks.

Leaning against the doorway casually, I say, “I thought you two would be at Chris’s apartment by now.”

Christian shrugs. “Sometimes it’s nice to just be home. Besides, my carpets are getting shampooed and my floors polished.”

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 lights even 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 from Rocosa 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?”

I try not to smirk. “Hey, the guys know I’m not in it for the long haul.”

Holt’s expression changes from amused to annoyed.

“What if the right guy comes along? I mean, it’s not likely that you’ll find him at your age, but you never know.”

“I’ve already accepted that I’ll be in a loveless marriage someday just like Mom and Dad. The Price kids aren’t humans to be loved but bartering tools to be used for business.”

Holt looks at me sadly but says nothing. He knows everything I’ve said is true. There’s no point in arguing with me. Just like there’s no point in arguing with Dad.