Finding Olivia (Trace + Olivia #1) (38 page)

Trace was leaning against the outside wall of the garage, chatting with Luca, who was puffing on a cigarette.

Trace was shirtless since it was such a hot day and his perfect body was drenched in a light coating of sweat. My eyes perused over his tattoos. I loved his tattoos and how they revealed little bits of information about him. I especially loved the one over his heart that expressed how much he loved his dad.

I parked and Trace
left Luca to greet me.

“I see boxes,” he grinned,
nodding at the interior of my car, “I was afraid you might change your mind.”

“No,” I shook my head, standing on my tiptoes to kiss him tenderly.

“Let me help you with those,” he gently pushed me aside and lowered my driver’s seat so he could reach the boxes.

“Don’t you have to work?” I nodded towards the garage.

“Nah,” he shook his head, lifting one of the boxes out, “I asked Pete for the afternoon off.”

“Oh
,” I mouthed, and reached for a box, following him up the staircase to his apartment.

He opened the door and gently placed my box on the floor. I
positioned the one I held on top.

“You have to have all your stuff out of your dorm
room tonight, right?” Trace asked.

“Yep,” I nodded.

“I have something we need to do, so how about I shower, and we’ll go do it, then pick up the rest of your stuff. Is that okay with you?” He questioned.

“Sounds great,” I smiled and turned to head back for another box.

Trace carried the last box in and went to take his shower. While he was doing that, I decided to get a head start on unpacking. I placed my items in neat stacks on the floor, figuring Trace would tell me where to put my stuff later.

The bathroom door squeaked open and I looked over my shoulder, watching him step out of the bathroom with a simple gray towel wrapped around his waist. Water droplets clung to his hair and skin, causing me to lick my lips. I thought Trace was drool-worthy all the time, it didn’t matter what he was doing, working, making breakfast, you name it, he looked like sex on a stick while doi
ng it. But nothing beat a naked and wet, Trace, fresh out of the shower.

He chuckled, smiling cockily at me. “If you keep looking at me like that,” he warned, “we’re not going anywhere.”

I turned away hastily.

“Suit yourself,” he crooned as he made his way to the bedroom, the scent of his
woodsy soap lingering behind him.

I crushed the empty boxes and leaned them against the wall
, beside the door, so that I could drop them in the dumpster later.

I turned around
, and Trace was coming out of the bedroom, shrugging into one of his trusty plaid shirts.

“Ready?” He asked, flattening the collar.

“Yeah,” I picked up the crushed boxes.

We
walked down the steps, to his car, and I dropped the boxes into the large blue dumpster.

“Hey there little lady,” a raspy voice said from behind the dumpster.

I squealed, jumping back, and fell over a small rock. My butt hit the ground and the air whizzed out of my throat.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare ya,” a person appeared, accompanying the voice. He was a small man, about my height, with a hooked back
that made him appear even shorter. His white hair was wispy and a white goatee adorned his chin. The blue jumper he wore hung loose on his small frame. When I met his eyes, I found that they were a unique shade of gray. He smiled, showing off yellowed crooked teeth. He dropped the cigarette he was smoking to the ground and stomped it out with the toe of his boot. Wiping a greasy hand on his jumper, he held it out to me, to help me up. “I’m Pete.”

So this was Pete. I had never seen him around here. In fact, I hadn’t met most
of the employees. They had usually left by the time I met Trace at the garage.

“Olivia,” I took his dirty hand to be polite, hoping I hid my cringe.

Despite his age and obvious frailty, he lifted me easily from the ground with little help on my part.

“You’re Trace’s girl,” he stated.

I nodded, wiping the back of my jeans free of dirt and gravel.

“He talks about you all the time,” Pete tapped out another cigarette. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” I replied, smiling at the older man. I waved goodbye as I backed away and headed towards the car.

Trace was adjusting the volume on the
stereo when I slid inside the Charger.

“What took you so long? I thought you were throwing away boxes?” He questioned, pulling onto the road.

“I ran into Pete,” I shrugged.

“Ah, I see,” Trace chuckled, changing gears in the car, “and what did you think of good ole’ Pete?”

“He’s nice,” I shrugged. “I’m surprised I haven’t seen him before now, though.”

“Pete doesn’t get around as well as he used to,” Trace explained
, navigating through traffic. “He usually only comes in to make sure we’re getting our work done. He misses working on cars, it’s been hard on him, but his arthritis really affects his mobility.”

“Aww,” I frowned. “Poor Pete.”

“He’s a great guy,” Trace added. “I’ll always be indebted to him, for giving me a chance. My—uh—last name, made people reluctant to hire me,” he scratched the back of his head nervously. “They all thought I was some hotshot playboy who wasn’t serious about a job, but Pete didn’t look at me that way,” he smiled wistfully. “He took a chance on me when no one else would and even let me rent the apartment above the garage.” I saw in the fierceness of his words, how much Trace cared for Pete, and I found it endearing.

Most people looked at Trace and thought, ‘
Cocky bad boy,’ at first glance. But there were so many other layers to Trace underneath his smug exterior. He cared so deeply for the ones he loved and I admired that about him. I knew Trace would go to the ends of the Earth and back to help someone he loved. I realized that I knew the
real
Trace. He could be cocky and arrogant, but at the end of the day, he was always sweet and attentive.

He turned onto a narrow road that led back to a brick building. Unfortunately, I had missed the sign.

“We have to hurry, they’ll be closing for the evening soon,” Trace explained, hurrying out of the car.

I followed after
him and up to the blue door. When we stepped inside, we were greeted to the musty smell of the old building, mixed with the sounds of cats meowing and dogs barking.

“Since,” Trace grinned, “you agreed to live with me, I thought now would be the perfect time for us to add to our little family.”

Tears stung my eyes at his words.

He pushed open the swinging door. The dogs immediately jumped up and started clawing at their cages, desperate for attention. I made sure to
talk lovingly to each one. I didn’t want any of the ‘puppies’ to be left out from my affections.

The last cage we came to appeared to be empty at first glance.

Slowly, a small form crept forward and a small black lab puppy peered up at us with gray eyes. He looked so sad and I noticed that he held his front left paw up slightly.

A woman came in from another door, her hair frazzled. She looked exhausted.

“That one there likes you,” she pointed to the black puppy. “He came in two days ago and we’ve had quite the struggle with him. He was found alongside the road with injuries that are obviously from being beat.”

“Aw,” my heart broke for the puppy peering up at me.

“He’s been sittin’ in that corner, wouldn’t come out. Normally the puppies go really fast around here, but nobody’s taken to him.”

I frowned, looking at the sweet black dog. His eyes peered up at me and I felt like he was begging me to take him home and love him forever, which I would.

“I want him,” I stated, not caring if Trace agreed.

“I’ll get the paperwork ready,” she smiled, pleased. “Y’all can get him out and play.”

I eagerly opened the cage and sat on the floor.

The puppy didn’t want to play though. He immediately climbed
onto my lap, struggling with his long gangly legs, and collapsed with his eyes closed.

“He likes you,” Trace chuckled. “I think I have some competition now.” He squatted beside me and petted the puppy’s head.
The puppy relaxed against Trace’s touch, lovingly rolling over to get his belly rubbed.

I giggled. “I think he likes
you
.”

“What’s not to like?” Trace scoffed. “I’m wonderful.” He petted the dog for a few more minutes and asked, “What should we name him?”

I bit my lip. “I was thinking Ace.”

“Ace,” Trace repeated, rolling the name around his tongue like someone sampling wine. “It’s perfect.”

Ten minutes later, the lady came to tell us everything was ready. We filled out the paperwork and Trace handed them cash for the adoption fee.

“Good luck y’all,” she called as we left.

From there, we headed straight to the local PetSmart. I carried Ace inside, clutched to my chest.

Trace grabbed a shopping cart and we made our way to the dog section. He grabbed two bags of dog
food; the same one Ace had been eating at the SPCA, and added them to the cart. We picked out a heaping pile of toys, a cushion, bowls, and leash. Lastly, I picked up a braided light blue and gray collar.

We checked out and Trace got tokens for the machine that
made nametags. We agreed on the silver dog bone shaped tag and Trace entered all the information in. Within a minute, the nametag was made.

“Well, Ace,” I cooed to the dog as we strolled outside, “I certainly hope we’re not forgetting anything.”

Trace laughed, pointing to the overflowing cart. “We better not be.”

Ace slept in my lap as we stopped by the dorm to pick up the last of my boxes. All of Avery’s things were gone already. Trace grabbed the two remaining boxes while I glanced around the room in nostalgia. I looked back, one last time as I closed the dorm room door, feeling as if I was closing a door on a chapter of my life.

c h a p t e r

Thirty
One

I brought Ace inside after doing his business and smoothed my hands over my dress clothes. I was starting my first day at the local jewelry store. It wasn’t too far from Trace’s—
our
—apartment. I still wasn’t quite used to the fact that
his
place, was now
our
place.

“You look nice, babe,” Trace grinned, stepping out of the bedroom
, in jeans and a wife-beater.

“Thanks,” I smiled,
and my stomach rolled nervously.

“You’ll do great,” he assured me when my smile turned into a grimace.
“You have nothing to worry about.”

“I don’t want to do something wrong,” I
passed Trace, and stepped into the bedroom, grabbing a pair of black flats from the bottom of the closet. I padded into the living room, slipping on my flats, and found Trace drinking a bottle of water. He screwed the cap back on and eyed me.

“What could you possibly do wrong?” He raised a brow. “You’re selling jewelry.”

“I could enter the price in the register wrong or-”

“You are
really
overthinking this,” he tossed the empty water bottle into the recycling bin and wrapped a hand around my waist. “Just relax,” he murmured soothingly, running his lips over the curve of my ear. My eyes fluttered closed as his stubble tickled my skin deliciously.

He pulled away slightly and his green eyes bore into me. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll bring you lunch,” he suggested.

“I don’t know,” my hands tangled in his shirt.

“I make a delicious ham sandwich, you know you want one,” he crooned, skimming his nose along my jaw.

“I think, knowing you were going to show up, would only make me more nervous,” I admitted.

“Alright, fine,” he smiled, his eyes sparkling, “no ham sandwich for you. I’ll eat lunch with Ace.” He pointed to the black puppy sleeping peacefully on the couch. He had grown surprisingly larger in the week that we had had him.
Ace seemed to love his new home and I was happy that Trace and I were able to give him that.

“I’m sure he’ll be a much more enthusiastic date than I would be,” I joked.

“He’s not as cute, that’s for sure,” Trace winked, kissing me soundly. “I’ve got to get to work.”

“Me too,” I sighed. I needed to stop stalling.

I kissed Trace one last time and hugged Ace goodbye. “You’ll check on Ace, right?” I questioned Trace as he walked me to my car. I was nervous. Since we’d adopted Ace, he hadn’t been left at home alone. We’d bought a crate, for when we were gone, but he hated the thing, so I refused to put him in it.

“Of course I will,” Trace promised, kissing the end of my nose. “When the others leave
, I’ll bring him down with me.”

“Okay,” I nodded, still worried about my hairy baby.

“He’ll be fine,” Trace assured me, “and so will you.”

My breath came out ragged from nerves. I hoped I didn’t make a fool of myself on my first day.

I waved goodbye to Trace as he watched me leave the parking lot. The drive was a little more than five minutes and I spent the whole time freaking out.

I parked behind the building,
in one of the spots, Marcy, the owner, had said was reserved for employees.

“You can do this, Olivia,” I pepped myself before forcing my unwilling body from the car.

I walked up to the back door and paused before entering. The door was painted a bright lime green, and I wondered why I was surprised. Marcy was on the eccentric side.

I forced my hand to turn the knob and stepped inside, “Hello?” I called.
Marcy had told me she’d leave the door unlocked, and to come inside when I arrived, but it still seemed weird to walk in.

“Oh, thank God
, you’re here!” Marcy cried, scurrying from the front of the store, to the backroom I had entered. Her blonde hair was dyed every shade of the rainbow on the ends and her clothes were very bohemian. “I’ve been so busy this morning, I haven’t had any time to design. My daughter, Alba, should be here within the hour to help you. I’ll start your training in the meantime,” she smiled.

“Great,” I replied, for lack of anything else to say.

Marcy handmade all her jewelry and even offered custom designs. It was quite funny actually; she had taken one look at my star necklace, and knew it was one of hers. She had even remembered Trace, oohing and ahhing over him.

She had hired me to help
work the front of the store so she could spend more time making jewelry. When I had applied, and immediately been hired, her daughter hadn’t been around. But Marcy mentioned that Alba helped her out, although she couldn’t cover many hours.

“You can put your purse here,” Marcy pointed to a cubby painted
bright neon purple. I did as she told me, sliding my purse into one of the cubbies.

The walls in the back
room were a lime green that matched the door I had come through. I knew that the front room, where she sold her designs and had them displayed, was painted bright yellow.

“I want you to feel comfortable here, Olivia. There’s no need to be so shy,” she smiled kindly and waved her hand for me to follow her.

Thankfully, there were no customers at the moment. Marcy showed me where the key was to open the glass cases so people could try on the necklaces, bracelets, and rings. After that, she showed me how to use the iPad that she used instead of a regular cash register. Everything seemed very straightforward and simple. I immediately started to feel more at ease. Marcy hung around to help me with
the first few customers that trickled in. After being successful with all the customers, Marcy felt comfortable enough to leave me on my own.

I handled two more customers on my own before Alba showed up. There was no mistaking her as Marcy’s daughter.
They both had the same pointed features. Her hair was died black with streaks of crimson and purple. Thick black bangs curtained her forehead and she had a nose ring. Her eyes were a light blue that I was sure was the product of contacts. No one’s eyes were naturally that shade of sky blue.

She held out a hand to me. “I’m Alba,” she smiled, showing off straight white teeth.

“Olivia,” I replied.

“I’m glad my mom was able to get some help. I
can’t help her as often as I’d like,” she shrugged. “I recently started my own tattoo business,” she explained.

“Oh,” I nodded, “so you’re an artist like your mom, just in a different way.”

“Yep, we’re very artsy people,” she nodded, looking around. “You appear to be doing very well for your first day,” she appraised me, hands on her studded belt.

“Thanks,”
I breathed, relieved that she thought so.

“If you think you can handle yourself out here, I’ll go back there, and help my mom out,” she pointed
to the beaded curtain that separated the backroom from the front.

“I think I’m good,” I smiled.

“Awesome,” she clapped her hands together. Her nails were painted black with red skulls drawn on top. “If you need one of us, give a holler.”

Alba disappeared behind the curtain and I was left alone once more.

At lunchtime, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, wiping my Cheeto stained fingers on a napkin, and smiled at the picture Trace had text. He held Ace in one hand while the other held the phone out. A ham sandwich was clasped between his teeth. I giggled.

Miss u. I no ur doing gr8.

I replied back to tell him that he had been right and my first day was going well.

Marcy breezed
by me with new products to display. “Based on the smile on your face, I’d say you’re talking to your beau.”

I paled at being caught. “Sorry,” I mumbled
, putting my phone away.

“Sweetie, you’re on your lunch break. I don’t mind if you’re texting that fine specimen of man. If you know any
more like him, maybe you can send them Alba’s way?”

“Mom!” We heard the groan from the back. “I am a smart independent woman, I don’t need a man!”

Marcy rolled her eyes and shook her head. “That may be so,” she whispered to me, “but I want some grandchildren before I’m dead.”

“Mom! I can s
till hear you!” Alba called.

Marcy and I snickered.

“I may know of some guys for Alba,” I shrugged, thinking of Justin and Brian from the tattoo shop.

“Really?” Marcy asked, brightening.

“Mhmm,” I nodded.

“I don’t need a man!” Alba yelled
, and a moment later, appeared from behind the beaded curtain.

“Well, someone has to clear out the cobwebs in your vagina,” Marcy pointed at her daughter.

“Mom!” Alba shrieked, her face coloring an unhealthy shade of red. “Don’t say things like that! It’s disgusting coming from you!”

“Oh please, Alba. Don’t b
e so dramatic. Everyone has sex.” Alba cringed at her mother’s words. “Sex, sex, sex,” Marcy chanted.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Alba frowned, shaking her head back and forth.

“You young people can be so ridiculous, acting like us older people have never had sex,” Marcy defended with her hands on her narrow hips. “How do you think you came into this world? A stork?”

“Ugh,” Alba groaned, “if you keep this up, I’m leaving.”

“Fine, I’ll shut my mouth,” Marcy rearranged some necklaces, “but only because I need your help today.”

“Way to make me feel used, mom,” Alba laughed, the beads swishing closed as she returned to the back.

“Say hello to that handsome man of yours for me,” Marcy squeezed my arm lightly as she breezed around me. “Oh, and sweetheart, you look nice and all, but there’s no need to be so dressed up. You’re making the owner look bad,” she chuckled.

I glanced down at my slacks and dress shirt. “What would you prefer me to wear?” I asked with a smile, amused at my boss.

“Jeans, shorts, whatever you want, really. I mean, look at me,” she pointed to her own long skirt and breezy shirt. “Some people might say it’s unprofessional but it’s my business and I’ll run it how I want to,” she said firmly. “Besides, my fashion sense doesn’t seem to keep the buyers away,” she chortled.

★★★

The rest of the day went by quickly and Marcy closed the store at five.

“I hope your first day wasn’t too bad,” she smiled as she flipped the sign from Open to Closed and lowered the blind
s over the glass door.

“It was great,” I answered honestly.

“So, you’re not sick of us yet?” Marcy asked, pointing to herself and Alba.

“Of course not,” I laughed. “You guys are great.”

“Phew,” Marcy pretended to wipe sweat from her brow. “I was worried we’d be too much for you to handle and you’d quit.”

“Not at all,”
I replied, straightening the displays in the glass case.

“If you don’t have to get back to that love muffin of yours, would you like to have dinner with us?”
Marcy asked.

I giggled at her term for Trace.
“I don’t have plans, but I don’t want to intrude,” I bit my lip nervously. “I would hate to feel like I’m imposing.”

“Nonsense,” Marcy scoffed. “I’m inviting you, how could you be imposing?”

“If you’re sure,” I agreed reluctantly, looking between the mother and daughter.

“It’ll be fun,” Alba smiled genuinely.

“Alright, I’ll go,” I finally agreed.

Between the three of us, we finished
cleaning and straightening the store in no time. I grabbed my purse and followed them outside.

“We had
planned to go to Olive Garden, is that fine with you? If not we can go somewhere else,” Marcy informed me, her rainbow colored hair blowing in the wind.

“That’ll be great,” I smiled.

“Excellent,” she clapped her hands together and headed towards her car, a bright yellow Fiat.

I got in my car and texted Trace to let him know what I was doing so he wouldn’t worry.

I met Alba and Marcy at the restaurant that looked like it belonged in the Tuscan countryside with its stone walls and terracotta roof tiles.

We had to wait fifteen minutes before being seated but spent the time chatting casually. Somehow, much to my dismay, Marcy always managed to bring the conversation back to Trace.
I was beginning to think she was the grown up, hippie version, of Avery.

We finished dinner and parted ways. I felt completely at ease and excited for my next day at work.

★★★

I unlocked the door to the apartment and giggled at the sight that met me.

A song by 3OH!3 was pumping from the iPod dock in the kitchen, and Trace was dancing around the apartment in only his jeans, a bowl of ice cream in one hand. He sang along with the lyrics, trying to coax Ace into dancing with him. The puppy simply cracked his eyes open and promptly went back to sleep.