“Beattyville, Kentucky.”

I squinted. “Never heard of it.”

She snorted. “You wouldn’t have. It’s a tiny town in eastern Kentucky, in the heart of Appalachia. Nothing like the big city of Williamsport, though we do have a little claim to fame.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Ten years ago, President Johnson visited our town on one of his many stops to gain support for his War on Poverty.”

I lifted my eyebrows remembering that particular tour. “That’s where you’re from?”

She swallowed. “That’s where I’m from. One of, if not the poorest region in the country. But heck, I got to shake the president’s hand when I was eleven so there’s that.”

I’d also shaken President Johnson’s hand, once, but under very different circumstances. It was actually at a gala event that my father hosted at our home, Townsend Manor, but that information didn’t need to be a part of this conversation.

“We come from two very different worlds,” Deborah stated.

I’d known as much since the first time I met her. It may have been what drew me to her in the first place. Again, I kept that thought to myself. Instead, I glanced around the interior of the room we sat in and then let my gaze fall back to her, saying, “But we’re in the same world right now.”

The room fell silent as we gazed at one another. No words were needed as the air crackled around us.

I leaned in, as did Deborah, our lips closing in on one another’s … but just before they touch the goddamned door of the room burst open.

“Robert, man, I’ve been looking for you.”

“What the hell do you want?” I exploded on Jack Lassiter. He was something of a friend to me; however, he’d just interrupted the most important first kiss I was about to have. I felt that even before our lips touched.

Jack’s brown eyes widened in fear. “Sorry, man, but this is important.”

I scowled at him. “What is important?”

Jack’s stare shifted from me to Deborah, his eyes narrowing.

“Look at me,” I stated, my voice low. “What is important?”

“Oh, uh, the ski trip. The one for spring break. We need your money to register.”

My frown deepened as I dug into my bag, searching for my wallet. Between classwork, family bullshit, and my growing preoccupation with the woman beside me, I’d forgotten all about giving my money for the annual ski trip.

“Here,” I stated, practically throwing the money at Jack.

“Thanks, man, this trip is going to be epic.”

As I started to turn away from Jack, I noticed Deborah beginning to pack up her books.

“Jack hang on. Princess, are you going on the ski trip?”

She looked at me, stunned. “What?”

“The trip? Have you signed up for it?”

“No.”

“Why not? It’s your last chance to go.”

She shook her head. “I can’t it’s—”

“It’s on a week where there are no classes, so you won’t have to study. Can’t use that as an excuse.” I turned to Jack, pulling more money out of my wallet. “Here. Sign her up, too. Make sure she’s registered. Deborah Tate.”