Chasing Olivia (Trace + Olivia #2) (21 page)

“You want a marriage license?” The balding clerk eyed us. “Aren’t you a little young?”

I rolled my eyes. “We’re both consenting adults, that want to get married. I don’t understand what the hold up is,” I said sassily.

“Neither of you are from New Hampshire,” he glanced down at our Virginia driver’s licenses.

“Obviously,” I snorted. “Although, I did grow up here.”

“Well, there’s nothing stopping you from getting a license as long as you’re getting married in this county,” he adjusted his reading glasses.

“We can arrange that,” Trace assured the man.

“Well, then,” he shuffled some papers, “let me get everything organized. I’ll need both of your social security cards.”

I pulled mine out of my wallet and handed it to him. Trace did the same.

The man, I think his name was Jim, forced a smile and went in search of the documents he needed.

Trace grabbed me around the waist and hugged me to his chest. “Ready to be married to me for the rest of your life?”

I giggled. “You make it sound so ominous.”

“There’s nothing ominous about waking up next me.” He waggled his brows.

“You are so full of yourself,” I shook my head.

“When you’ve got it,” he swayed his hips, “like I do, there’s no point in sugar coating it.”

I buried my face in my hands, stifling a laugh. “What have I gotten my myself into?” I asked rhetorically.

He removed my hands from my face and grabbed my chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing my gaze to his. In a serious tone, he said, “I promise to make every day of our lives together better than the one before it. I know we’re going to have our ups and down, life’s a roller coaster and that’s expected, but I’m always going to look for the bright side…even in the darkest situations.”

“Wow,” I breathed. “That was…beautiful.”

“I can be deep when I want to,” he winked, kissing the end of my nose.

Jim came back into the room, clearing his throat.

I pulled away from Trace, blushing, which was silly. It wasn’t like we were doing anything inappropriate. But the look on Jim’s face suggested that he thought otherwise.

“I have some papers for you to sign,” he muttered gruffly, settling behind his desk once more. The wheels on his chair squeaked shrilly. “Sit,” he pointed to the chairs in front of his desk.

My eyes widened and Trace coughed to stifle his chuckle.

“Here,” Jim slid a stack of papers to Trace. “You fill this part out and she fills this out,” he handed him a pen. “Sign down there,” he pointed to the bottom of the page.

Trace filled the information out quickly and pushed the documents my way. I signed my name beside his and stared in awe at my name for a moment. This was the last time I would be signing my name as Olivia Owens. From this moment on I was going to be Olivia Wentworth. That knowledge filled me with a giddy warmth.

Jim stood and puttered around his office. Minutes later he returned and said, “This is your copy. Show this to whoever is administering your wedding and you’re good to go.”

“Thanks,” Trace took the papers from him and shook his hand.

“Good luck to you,” Jim muttered.

Trace stood, smiling down at me. “Ready?”

“You know it,” I answered immediately.

He chuckled. “Glad to know you’re ready.”

“I’m more than ready,” I smiled, following him out of the building.

“Oh, really?” He raised a brow.

I nodded. “Marriage is just another adventure.”

“That it is,” he grabbed me by the waist, kissing me. “Last one before we’re married,” he winked. “I hope that will hold you over.”

“I think I’ll live,” I giggled.

“Good, ‘cause I’m not into necrophilia.”

“Ew, Trace,” I wrinkled my nose.

“What?” He grinned, unlocking the car. “Shouldn’t you be
glad
I’m not into that?”

I gagged. “Stop talking.”

He chuckled as he slid in the driver’s seat. “We haven’t even said ‘I do’ and you’re already telling me to shut up,” he shook his head. “Should I run now?”

“Stop it,” I fought a smile, pushing his shoulder. “Oh no!” I exclaimed suddenly.

“What?” Trace responded, looking wildly around him to locate whatever had caused my outburst.

“We don’t have wedding rings!”

He chuckled. “Dang, woman. I thought something bad happened.”

“Sorry,” I muttered with a frown.

“I actually have your ring,” he admitted.

“What? Let me see it,” I grabbed his arm.

“No way,” he shook his head, fighting a smile. “You’re not seeing it until it goes on your finger.” He frowned. “I don’t have it with me, anyway. It’s at home in my sock drawer.”

“Your sock drawer?” I snorted.

“I knew you wouldn’t look there!”

“True,” I laughed. “But I don’t have a ring for you.”

“It’s okay,” he waved his hand in dismissal. “I
just
proposed and now I’m dragging you off to marry me. I understand why you don’t have one.”

“No, it’s not okay,” I insisted. “I want you to have a ring. Surely there’s a jewelry store around here somewhere.” I looked out the car windows like I thought one would magically appear in front of me.

“I think Marcy would kill us if she didn’t make my ring,” he grabbed my shoulder so I was forced to look at him and cease my scanning.

“You’re right,” I agreed. “She would hunt us down. What if we get a temporary ring?”

“Why waste the money?” He reasoned. “Besides, like I said, your ring isn’t with me.”

“Says the billionaire,” I snorted.

“Hey,” his smile faltered and I instantly felt bad. His family’s money had always been a touchy subject. While the Wentworth’s had more money than I’d like to even think existed, none of them were…
different
because of it. Money certainly hadn’t gone to their heads like some people. “It’s not my money, it’s my family’s.”

“I know,” I placed my hand against his stubbled jaw. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay,” he turned his head into my hand, kissing my palm.

“So, no ring?”

“Not yet,” he smiled. “When you put a ring on my finger, I intend to never take it off. I don’t want a placeholder ring. I want the real thing.”

I bit my lip to stifle my laughter but it was of no use.

“Why are you laughing at me?” He questioned.

“Because,” I tried to breathe around my giggles, “that’s quite possibly the cutest, but cheesiest, thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Woman, I can be romantic,” he put a hand to his chest, feigning anger.

“Surprising me with a room filled with lightsaber nightlights is not romantic, Trace,” I snorted.

“It was
one
time!” He chortled. “And I thought it was cool.”

“It was definitely cool,” I agreed, “but not exactly as romantic as you’d thought. Next time, try candles.”

“That’s a fire hazard, Olivia.”

I stuck my tongue out at him.

Ignoring my protruding tongue, he continued, “So, are we really doing this thing?”

“Having second thoughts, Mr. Wentworth? I’m shocked.”

“Never,” he grabbed my hand. “I just,” he swallowed thickly, his lashes fanning against his cheeks, “I want to know that this is what you want. That
I’m
what you want.”

“Of course,” I gasped. “How could you ever doubt that?”

His tongue flicked out, moistening his lips. “Even the most confident people have doubts.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and scooted as close to him as I could get in the car. “You’re exactly what I want, Trace. Bad dancing and all. I accept you as what you are…which in my eyes, is everything.”

A huge grin lit his face. “Now look who’s getting corny.”

“What can I say?” I grasped the dark hairs that curled against his neck. “We bring out the cheesiness in each other.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I let Trace lead me into the courthouse and through security. My heart was racing and my hands shook. I was nervous, but not because I was unsure of Trace. I was excited too. And scared. Yeah, definitely scared. Marriage was a big commitment, and while I was ready to be married to him, it still frightened me. So many marriages these days ended in divorce, and I didn’t want to be another statistic. But I knew in my heart and soul that what Trace and I had was special. We were the exception to the rule and I was incredibly lucky to have found him. All it took was one flat tire to completely change the course of my life. It’s quite amazing how life works like that.

Trace was speaking with the security guard, asking for directions, but I was completely zoned out.

In a matter of minutes, Olivia Owens would cease to exist and Olivia Wentworth would take her place.

“Thank you,” Trace said to the guard as he headed for a set of stairs.

I hurried behind him—actually, he kind of dragged me since he held my hand and both of us were smiling goofily. This was it.

He turned right, heading a short ways down a hallway. He stopped in front of a set of double wooden doors, blowing out a breath between his lips. He put his hand on the knob but didn’t turn it.

“Ready?” He looked down at me with happy green eyes.

“Do you even need to ask?” I responded.

With a grin, he pushed the door open and we stepped inside.

There were wooden benches set up and I was surprised to see several couples scattered around. Some had friends and family with them, but most were like us and had no one.

Trace sat on one of the benches and pulled me down beside him. The Justice of Peace finished performing the ceremony for one couple and they quickly left the room with huge smiles in their faces.

He called another couple up and my heart raced even faster. I counted three more couples ahead of us.

“Your hand is sweating,” Trace whispered in my ear.

“Sorry,” I blushed, trying to pull my hand from his but he wouldn’t release it.

“It’s cute. Are you nervous?” He asked.

I nodded. “Aren’t you?”

“Baby, I never get nervous,” he smirked.

“Of course not,” I rolled my eyes, my lips twitching as they threatened to turn up in a smile.

“I don’t want you to be nervous either,” he grazed his thumb over my cheek.

“It’s a good kind of nervous,” I assured him. “I promise.”

He smiled at that and then jumped as if frightened. I looked around thinking something in the room had caused his reaction. It would be my luck that his ex, Aubrey, would show up. Or something as equally ridiculous. But that wasn’t the case. He pulled his vibrating phone out and frowned at the screen. I could see that it was his mom calling. He pressed a button, directing her call straight to voicemail, and turned the phone completely off.

“I’ll call her later,” he whispered.

“Are you going to tell her?”

He nodded, releasing my hand and rubbing his on his jeans, a nervous habit of his. “Yeah. No point in waiting. She’s going to get pissed either way.”

“We can wait,” I placed my hand on his forearm. The muscle was tight from tension.

“No,” he shook his head. “I want to marry you today. I’m sick of putting everyone else’s happiness before mine. This is for
us
and no one else.”

“Trace—”

“I’m fine,” he assured me.

“Are you?” I questioned worriedly. “I don’t want you to do this,” I motioned to the courtroom, “just because you feel it’s the only way to establish control. I love you, Trace. I don’t care when or where we get married. If you want to walk out those doors right now, that’s—”

He silenced me with a kiss. Damn him.

“You’ve really got to stop doing that,” I groaned when he released me.

“Well, you talk too much,” he smirked. Sobering, he added, “It hurts me that you’d think that. All I want is to be married to you, I swear. No hidden agenda here. When we get back home, I’m going to make sure you get a traditional wedding with a white dress, cake, and flowers. Whatever the hell you want, it’s yours.”

I fought a smile. “That’s quite a promise.”

“It’s one I can keep,” he responded, biting his lip. He didn’t bite his lip often, but when he did it sent my tummy fluttering. He wasn’t even trying to be seductive, but it was working.

We were quiet as the rest of the ceremonies were performed. When we were called up, I thought my heart was going to race right out of my chest.

The Justice of Peace smiled pleasantly at us. “Do you have any witnesses with you?”

I shook my head.

“No,” Trace answered, “do these lovely people count?” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder to more couples that had come in after us.

“They sure do,” the kind gray-haired man smiled.

He began speaking and I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to repeat after him, or Trace, or was I just supposed to say I do? Oh crap, I was panicking, and therefore sweating in places no one should ever sweat.

When the Justice of Peace paused, waiting for me to respond, I shouted, “I do!”

Trace threw his head back in laughter and the other couples in the room joined in. I was sure my face was red as a tomato. Lovely.

Stifling his laughter, Trace said to the Justice of Peace, “At least she’s excited to marry me.”