Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set (117 page)

I quickly looked away. “Me, Dean,” Dean pointed at his chest. “You, Row,” he poked my breast.
Definitely a Wentworth.
“Dat, Mew Mew, and he Rent!” He twisted to point enthusiastically at Trent.

Trent chuckled, shaking his head as he covered some kind of fish in a seasoning. “Good job, Dean. Thanks for making the introductions.”

“Welcome,” Dean beamed, turning back to me.

The little boy quieted, and went back to petting Bartholomew. I stretched my legs out on the ottoman, adjusting my hold on both the ferret and the toddler, since my arms felt like they were seconds away from falling asleep.

When I knew Trent was occupied with what he was doing, I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He was reading something off his phone. A recipe maybe? He kept flicking his head to keep his dark hair out of his eyes. His thumb scrolled the screen on his phone and his tongue stuck slightly out of his mouth as he concentrated. He muttered under his breath and began opening cabinets as he looked for something. He finally located it and added it to a bowl. As he worked he hummed under his breath. I didn’t recognize the song—and wasn’t even sure it really was a song, or just something he was making up as he went along.

He turned on two of the gas stove eyes and set something across it… it looked like he’d be grilling the fish… at least I thought it was fish.

Feeling like a creeper for spying on him as he cooked, I glanced back down at the warm bundles in my arms. Both the ferret and the toddler were sound asleep. It didn’t look like I’d be moving anytime soon. For once, I was okay with that. I didn’t feel the need to run. I was actually enjoying myself, and I wasn’t even really hanging out with Trent. But I was here, in his house, and I didn’t have an urge to leave. I was… comfortable.

“You okay?” Trent asked as something sizzled on the stove.

“Mhmm,” I hummed, “I’m great.”

Trent turned to look at me over his shoulder, and at his grin, I couldn’t help but smile in response. “Good,” he said, his eyes devouring me the way one would their favorite piece of chocolate.

Goosebumps broke out across my skin as he stared at me. That look… it turned my insides to mush. It felt good to be desired.

With a wink Trent turned back to what he was doing. I wondered if he was aware of the delicious feelings coursing through my body from a single glance. The boy was good, and he didn’t even have to try. It was quite a talent he had.

I must have dozed off as well, because some time later I was awakened by Trent gently shaking my shoulder. Bartholomew was gone, and I started to panic, but I immediately glimpsed him snoozing in his hammock. Dean was still curled in my arms, his body providing warmth to mine. His tiny lips were pursed in sleep.

“Dinner’s ready,” Trent told me.

I nodded, stifling a yawn.

Trenton picked Dean up off my lap and the little boy came awake with a start. “Rent?” He asked quizzically, looking at Trent with sleepy eyes.

“It’s Uncle Trent,” he assured the toddler, carrying him over to a highchair by the dining table.

“You have a highchair for him?” I tilted my head, taking in the sight of Trent tending to Dean.

“Well,
I
didn’t buy it,” he chuckled. “I watch Dean as much as I can when I’m home. Trace works a lot and Olivia’s home with this goober all the time,” he affectionately kissed Dean’s cheek, making a loud smacking sound with his lips. “Sometimes they need a break, and I’m happy to help. I like kids,” he shrugged. “I even have a pack n’ play for when we have sleepovers,” he winked, ruffling the toddler’s hair, and sauntering into the kitchen.

I sat down at the table in front of a steaming plate of deliciousness. My stomach rumbled as I inhaled the scents of rosemary and garlic. It was official, the man could do anything, he was perfect.

“Do you drink wine?” He asked, looking at me over his shoulder.

“I’m legal if that’s what you’re asking, but no, I’ve never drank any…” After what I saw at home, how could I want to? I didn’t want to become my mother.

“This is really good with our dinner,” he held a bottle aloft. “Would you like to try some?”

I frowned, prepared to tell him no, but he was already pouring a glass. I didn’t see how one glass could turn me into a raging alcoholic. Besides, if I hated it, I didn’t have to drink it.

Trent set our glasses down and went back to the kitchen, returning with a plate of food for Dean. He took the seat beside the highchair and fed Dean a spoonful of mashed potatoes. “If I let him feed himself, he throws his food at me,” Trent explained. “I’m really sorry about this,” he tilted his head to Dean, who was making a humming sound as he ate a gob of mashed potatoes. “This wasn’t at all what I had planned for tonight.”

“And what did you have planned?” I ventured to take a bite of the grilled salmon—and holy shit, it was the best thing I had ever tasted.

“Dinner,” he nodded to our plates, “talking… kissing…”

“Always with the kissing,” I laughed—the sound surprising me. I was laughing, and if I recalled correctly, there had been other times when Trent had made me laugh… a real genuine laugh, not one I had to force. The man had superpowers.

“I like kissing you,” he winked, feeding Dean a piece of roasted chicken.

“Did you have anything else planned?” I questioned as I took a hesitant sip of wine. It was actually pretty good and went well with the fish.

“Nope.” Mischief danced in his eyes when he looked at me.

“Really?” I raised a brow.

He nodded, finally taking a bite of his own food.

Embarrassment flooded my cheeks in an unflattering shade of red, because I had been imagining more. Much more. What was wrong with me?

I should’ve known Trent wouldn’t expect
that
yet, he wasn’t that kind of guy. A part of me was disappointed though. I felt like maybe he was doing this on purpose—dragging it out until he knew I was so desperate with want that I’d jump his bones.

No, it wouldn’t be like Trent to think that way.

More than likely, he wanted me to be sure that I did actually want this. Right now, though, I didn’t want him to be a gentleman.

There wasn’t anything I could do though. Dean was here, and I couldn’t exactly pull Trent away to have my wicked way with him.

It was okay though.

Clearly, now wasn’t the right time for our relationship to move in that direction. After five years though, I felt like I was about to explode. It would be worth the wait.
Trent
was worth the wait… I just hoped that finally admitting that I did have feelings for him wouldn’t blow up in my face. Who was I kidding? It would. Once all my lies and deceptions were out in the open, he’d hate me. I had to tell him what I’d done. I should open my mouth up and let it all out. But I couldn’t, and I was selfish anyway, wanting to spend more time with him before I didn’t have him at all.

“How’s your mom?” I asked him. I’d only met Lily a handful of times, but she was a lovely woman and had raised her sons well… especially after their dad died. She was the kind of woman I could admire. She was beautiful, but strong and independent. She didn’t take shit from anyone. “Your grandparents?”

“Mom’s good,” he shrugged. “She’s busy a lot now, running the business and all, but we have family dinner’s once a week. I always come home for them.” His eyes grew sad, and he added, “Gramps died a few years ago… cancer. It’s been hard losing him. He became like a dad to Trace and me, after ours died. Gramps’ death has been harder on Trace than me, but I miss him every day.”

My heart broke seeing the pain in his eyes. Even two years later it was obvious he still missed his grandpa and that the wound would probably never quite heal all the way. I’d only met Warren once, but he was a nice man, and went out of his way to make me feel comfortable.

“I’m so sorry, Trenton,” I whispered.

He shrugged, his lips turned down in a frown. “It was his time.”

“That might be true, but it doesn’t make his loss any easier.”

Trent nodded, cooing to Dean. I knew he didn’t really want to talk about his grandpa, and that was fine. I knew what it was like not to want to talk about things. I wouldn’t push him.

We moved the conversation to more comfortable topics, like school and friends.

I laughed and smiled easily, something I seemed to only do around Trenton. He had some kind of magical spell over me that melted my icy exterior.

He refused to let me help clean up from dinner, instead putting me in charge of Dean once more. The little boy had renewed energy after dinner and I had to chase him down. He was a quick little thing.

“Do you need to go yet?” He asked, putting food into plastic containers.

I shook my head. “I still have time.”

“Want to put a movie on?” He asked, stacking the containers one on top of the other.

“That’s fine with me,” I grabbed Dean up in my arms before he could crawl up the steps, “I probably won’t be able to stay for the whole thing though.”

“Any extra time I get with you, I’ll take,” he smiled. Pointing to the containers, he said, “These are for your brother and sister. I figured they wouldn’t like fish, so I gave them the chicken I got for Dean.”

Tears pricked my eyes. I hadn’t believed him when he said he’d have food for Ivy and Tristan. But he did. He was remarkable.

I turned away from him so he wouldn’t see the moisture building in my eyes and pretended to be playing with Dean.

“You can pick out the movie.” I jumped when his hand pressed against my waist.

“O-okay,” I stuttered.

He took Dean from my arms and led me to the entertainment center. He brought up something on the TV and said, “Scroll through until you find one you want.”

I gaped. I had never seen such a fancy TV. It was like a spaceship.

I was a quick learner though; so it didn’t take me long to figure out how to work the fancy remote.

“Thor?” He chuckled, when I had made my selection.

“I always did have a thing for muscular superheroes,” I winked. Oh my God. Was I flirting? I was totally flirting.

Trent chuckled. “I remember all those superhero shirts you used to wear. Do you still have them?”

“I sleep in them.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat, causing heat to rise to the surface of my cheeks. “I like those shirts. A lot.”

“Me too,” I squeaked.

Jesus Christ, the man was making me hot and bothered just by talking about my old ratty superhero t-shirts.

The movie started and Trent turned off the lights. “You want some popcorn?” He asked before he sat down.

“No thanks.”

He picked up Dean and plopped down beside me, depositing the little boy in his lap. The couch dipped with his added weight and I slid towards him, stopping when my left side was firmly pressed against his right side. I
so
didn’t want to watch a movie right now.

I forced myself to focus on the screen, and not on the way his warmth felt beside me, or how I really wanted to tilt my head up and kiss his jaw, then his lips, then…

You knew you had it bad, when even the sight of Chris Hemsworth couldn’t distract you.

I found my eyes growing heavy, and my head fell to Trent’s shoulder.

I wasn’t falling asleep. I wasn’t. Okay, I totally was.

But he felt so good, and he kept humming, the sound calming me. Eventually I couldn’t resist it any longer, and fell asleep with my head rested on his shoulder, and a small smile on my lips.

I was being jostled awake, rather rudely I might add. I blinked my eyes open to find Trent’s brother hovering above us.

“Trace, stop it, that’s not nice,” a female voice piped in.

“Dude, wake up,” he smacked Trent’s cheek.

Trent woke with a start. “What the—”

“Tsk, tsk,” Trace waggled a finger in front of Trent’s face, holding Dean, “sleeping on the job, baby brother, that’s not allowed.”

“Sorry,” Trent stood, reaching his arms above his head to stretch. His shirt rode up exposing his smooth and toned stomach. I itched to reach out and have that skin beneath my hands.

Trace cuddled Dean in his arms, the child completely undisturbed, his eyes still closed and his small thumb stuck in his mouth.

A woman, who didn’t appear to be much older than me, peered around Trace. “Hi, I’m Olivia,” she reached her hand out to shake mine. Her voice was light and pleasant, and there was something so sweet about her… she was the kind of person you couldn’t help but instantly like. She was also beyond gorgeous with long dark brown wavy hair, pouty lips, and an adorably upturned nose. It was obvious this was Trace’s wife, and Dean’s mother.

“Rowan,” I replied, taking her hand and shaking it.

“Oooh,” she drew out the word, her eyes flicking to Trace. “I’ve heard about you.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Trent grumbled under his breath.

I blushed at Olivia’s words. They’d talked about me? That was embarrassing.

Olivia peered around Trace, who seemed to stand in front of her like a bodyguard, to see Trent. “We’ll get out of your way.”

“You didn’t have sex in front of my kid did you? That would be traumatizing for him,” Trace asked Trent. I knew he was teasing, but I couldn’t help the blush that only kept getting redder.