Page 6 of Bringing Home the Bad Boy

"No," I reply, glancing at the spotless kitchen. "What's up?"

"I need you to stop by Arrow Trucking," he says casually, but the underlying curiosity is hard to miss. "Arroyo insisted you pick up the donation check."

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Then you insist that I don't. It's not my job, Bryan."

"I know, but the man obviously has some kind of crush on you. God knows why. Why else would he pay five thousand for those brownies? And cousin, I love your brownies."

I don't respond, biting my lip instead.

He continues, his tone softening. "Look, you're just picking up a check. We're trying to keep our new partner happy, right?"

"I'm sorry, but... how the hell did the Barkleys end up working with Trace, anyway?"

“He reached out to us. Said he was looking for a place to expand his trucking business. He’s expanding from a single operator to a fleet. We discussed our needs and what he’s able to provide. Noel, it’s a perfect match.”

“But the family didn’t discuss it. You never brought it to the table.”

“You guys wanted nothing to do with distribution. Your exact words were, handle it, Bryan. We trust you. So, I handled it. I met with Trace several times, and I think he’s a good guy—”

“—Yeah, right.” I scoff, then curse myself for reacting.

He clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable with my reaction. “Noel… what’s the deal with you and him? He says he worked for Barkley Farms ten years ago. That would have been the summer Ryan and I were in baseball camp. I remember that summer. I remember coming home, and you were different. Changed. Sad. Was it him?”

I freeze, bracing myself on the edge of the sink. I never discuss that summer. It was another life, another person. Trace made me laugh and feel seen for the first time. He took my heart and my innocence, and then he was gone. No explanation. No goodbye.

“Yes,” I whisper. The one word releasing a floodgate of memories. Warm evenings in the barn, stolen kisses, vows of eternal love. Vows that turned out to be one-sided.

“What do you want me to do?” Bryan growls. “Do you want me to rip up the contract, Noel? I can go down there and shove it down his throat.”

I smile. He and Ryan have always stood up for me, even when I didn’t ask for it. I shake my head, even though he can’t see me.

“No. I need to figure out what he’s up to. What the hell is he doing here? I need to know, Bry.”

Bryan’s quiet for a beat. “Okay,” he finally says. “You’ve got your reasons, I get it. But I’m telling you, Noel, if you want me to take care of him… just say the word.”

“Thanks.” Bryan is a big guy. He played college football and one year in the pros before returning to Bear Ridge. He stays in the gym like it’s his church. But even with his athletic prowess, I doubt he can best Trace. Trace’s muscles weren’t built by a machine. I sigh, rubbing my forehead. “I’ll be fine.”

"Alright," Bryan agrees. "But remember, you're Noel-freaking-Barkley. You're so far out of his league; he shouldn't even be playing."

I hang up. I have to meet with Trace. The thought jolts me more than a morning coffee. There's no denying it—the guy still gets under my skin. I hate that he has this power over me. But Bryan’s right. I changed. I’m not the same girl who cried for months after he disappeared. He needs to understand I didn’t just sit around waiting for his return.

I grab my keys, resolve hardening within me. Today, I’ll get the answers I need.

***

The drive to Arrow Trucking takes me beyond the familiar confines of Bear Ridge, out toward the interstate that slices through miles of open countryside. I’m rarely this far from town, so I’m shocked by the transformation Trace has accomplished. I pull into the freshly plowed parking lot of the once-abandoned strip mall, and what I see steals my breath.

The derelict buildings now have facades that gleam under the winter sun. Six eighteen-wheeler trucks, each proudly displaying a blue-and-gold arrow logo, stand in a line like sentinels at the opposite end of the lot. They rest near a newly constructed warehouse, where two forklifts load cargo.

I understand why everyone’s excited about this development; this industry could breathe new life into our small town. But unease settles in my stomach as I gaze upon the bustling hub. Why would Trace choose Bear Ridge, of all places? Is it just business or something more?

Taking a deep breath, I square my shoulders before stepping out into the crisp air. The scent of diesel and freshly cut lumber powers through the cold, assaulting my nostrils. Inside, the office is surprisingly polished. Everything is neat and controlled—so different from the Trace I used to know. The boy who won my heart, then vanished with the trophy.

A receptionist directs me to his office. As I approach, my pulse quickens. I hesitate for a fraction of a second before pushing the door open.

Trace sits behind a massive desk. A plaid shirt covers his broad shoulders, and his sleeves are rolled up to the elbows. He looks more like a driver than the owner. He shouldn’t look like he’s posing for the title of Sexiest Man Alive. But he does, because, well—he is.

When I enter, those intense dark brown eyes lock onto mine. For a moment, neither of us speaks. "Hey, Noel," he says, his voice deep and steady. "I was starting to wonder when you'd get here."

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