Page 3 of Bringing Home the Bad Boy

"Winning your brownies," he replies, his voice low, rich with insinuation.

My fists clench at my sides, nails digging into my palms. "Are you crazy? You didn't pay five thousand dollars for a dessert."

A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "You always were too smart for me."

"You're right. I am." My eyes narrow. "So, what are you after?"

"Maybe I'm after a chance to talk. To explain."

"Explain?" A bitter laugh escapes me. "There's nothing to explain. You used me and when you were done you did me the great favor of leaving and never coming back. Except you couldn't even get that part right."

A muscle tics in his jaw but he only says, "Just one conversation, Noel. That's all I ask."

"No." I say, meeting his gaze head-on. "Whatever game you're playing, keep me out of it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a job to do." I walk away with as much dignity as I can muster, managing not to trip over the tangled pieces of my heart.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur. Danielle corners me at one point, her eyes wide with curiosity. "What was that about? Was that Trace? Your Trace?"

"Not my anything," I say tersely, avoiding her probing gaze. "He never was," I mutter to myself.

"Oooo Kay," she says. But then she drops it. She know when to pull back. But I already know this is not the last I'll here of this.

Across the room, my father's stone face is grim with judgment and ire, the lines carved in his face are deeper than I've ever seen them. He watches me with an expression I can't read. Disappointment? Disapproval? I can't tell anymore.

Trace lingers at the edge of the crowd, his eyes following me—watching me. My family, friends—all watching me. Until every eye crawls over my skin like a million hungry ants. They're allwaiting for something. But what? For me to break? To crumble under the weight of the past?

I can't. I won't. If I didn't before when I was a young girl who thought the sun rose and set because of Trace Arroyo, I damn sure won't now.

Chapter 2

Inavigate my pickup truck through the icy streets of Bear Ridge. Ten years away, and not a damn thing has changed. Snow blankets the town, and the roads glisten with a treacherous sheen. It's too cold and slick for my bike, which sits idle in the garage. I grip the steering wheel tighter. I get why they call it a cage. Whenever I'm in one, I'm reminded of highway trips packed to the brim with my father and uncles. My backpack, stuffed with my few meager possessions, rode on my lap because there's nowhere else to fit it. Motorcycles are freeing. I've been in love with them since my first ride at sixteen. It was heaven to a kid used to being stuffed into a car designed for five but filled with eight. Still is. For a while, I thought Bear Ridge was heaven as well. The lodging was decent, spacious, and clean. Sundays were off days, and the food was delicious. Having Noel made the Bear Ridge experience even better.

Now, I'm back in the town, I was forced to leave. Everywhere I look, I see the Barkley influence. Noel's family damn near owns this town. How the hell was I ever on her level? She swore she never saw our differences, but how could she not? She was themoon—distant and untouchable, and I was the streets. And she was never farther away than she was last night.

Dammit. Things didn't go the way I'd hoped. Or the way they might have if I'd had an actual plan. Ten years of being away from her, ten years of wondering how she was doing—whoshe was doing. I figured she'd moved on with her life.Why the hell hadn't she?Why wasn't she married with children? Are the men in Bear Ridge blind? She's the prettiest, kindest, most intelligent woman around.

I don't get it. Never did. Maybe she got off on slumming with the help back then. She stunned me when she gave me her innocence. She could have saved that gift for anyone. I told her so. But she said she loved me. Saw me. Wanted me. She was a miracle for a boy who started working the farming circuit at sixteen. I hadn't been held by someone who loved me in years. I'd had plenty of sex, but no lovemaking. Noel was starving to be loved. Our hunger synced like a custom wrench fitting perfectly into its socket.

Then I left. Forced out of town by an arrogant bastard. Left when I should have fought—should have taken her with me. I was too young and dumb to understand there would never be another Noel. Too stupid to realize that the money and power wielded in Bear Ridge wouldn't have meant shit two or three hundred miles away. But I'm done being dumb. Except my chest still burns from her cold rejection. Strike one. Then she shared that look with Lowe. They'd obviously plotted for him to place the winning bid. Strike two. Because no way in hell was she going home with him. If he hadn't put a ring on her finger in ten years, then he missed his shot. No way is he getting the chance now. Strike three. Screw him.

I pull into the parking lot of Big B, the Barkley family's grocery and convenience store. Stepping out of the truck, the frigid air bites at my face. I scan the parking lot, and there he is—Lowell,the county sheriff. We've never met, but I've stayed in enough small towns to know it's wise to recognize the local law. The minute he spots me, he sizes me up, his gaze flicking over my worn leather jacket, taking in every detail.

"Mr. Arroyo," Lowe says, his tone flat and measured. "Welcome back."

"Thanks," I reply, matching his tone. "It's Trace." I don't offer a handshake. Instead, I wait, arms relaxed at my sides, eyes steady on his.

"So, what brings you back to Bear Ridge?" He narrows his eyes. "Hope it's not trouble."

"Trouble?" A muscle tics in my jaw, but I keep my expression neutral.

"People don't just come back to a small town after years away without a reason."

I resist the urge to laugh. "This place should be thanking me for bringing some business in."

His eyes flick to my jacket again, noting my Desperados patch. His lips press into a thin line. "Did some checking. The Desperados aren't exactly known for bringing peace and prosperity when they roll into a town."

The nerve in my jaw jumps wildly. "I'm not here as a Desperado. I'm a small business owner now. Your checking should have revealed that. But it doesn't matter; it's none of your damn business why I'm here or what I'm doing. I haven't broken any laws, and I don't intend to." I turn toward the store, my boots crunching on the snow-covered gravel. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some shopping to do."

"Business, huh?" Lowe steps into my path, not backing down. "Was that stunt you pulled with Noel last night part of yourbusiness?"

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